John F. Kennedy Jr.
Although I have never met him in person, I was in love with John F. Kennedy, Jr. Even though he’d sat for the bar five times and failed, and he spoke with a lisp, I decided we all had flaws and I loved him anyway.
When he dated Darryl Hannah, I overlooked it. He was just sowing his wild oats. When he married his wife, Carolyn, I put it down as a phase he was going through and forgave him for that, too. He was still the sexiest man alive.
The morning of his death, I sat up in bed to find my husband standing at the foot of the bed watching a news coverage. I rubbed my eyes and asked, “What’s going on?”
“John F. Kennedy, Jr died in a plane crash last night,” he explained.
“What? Damn and I was going marry him, too. He just didn’t know it, yet!” Thinking nothing of it I stretched out and went back to sleep.
Later that afternoon when I woke up (I had worked the graveyard shift the night before); I noticed I was receiving the “silent treatment.” At first, I tried to figure out what I had done to warrant the treatment, as I had been asleep all morning. Finally, I just asked.
My husband answered, “Your comment about JFK, Jr. this morning.”
“Oh hell! You’re upset about that?” I asked incredulously. “Well it’s a good thing I didn’t tell you about the honeymoon: you’d never speak to me again!”
He didn’t speak to me for the rest of the day.