Not So Blonde

The Civilian and the Sea Hag

By definition, a sea hag is a woman but little things like tradition and definition don’t normally stop me once I latch onto something and run it into the ground.

Through the majority of the weekend, I would laugh at R and his grumpiness and tell him in the two months time since he’s been active, he’s turned into a craggy old sea hag.

He’d laugh, or look at me sideways or mumble, “Hmph!” while turning his nose up so cute-like. R and I are the only two people I know that actually vocalize the “HMPH!” R abuses it. I guess I give him lots of reasons to say, “Hmph!”

I know R has too much on his mind. Char, I really appreciated your message on Twitter today, because it’s very apparent the man is going through some things.

I have long since tried to not take R’s moods personally. I think it’s since he’s so NOT a moody person that when he’s actually in one, I know he has good reason. Unlike me… she who changes mood when the wind blows.

I’m well aware of the fact that as hard as it may be for me to sit here and cry and feel sorry for myself, R can’t afford himself that luxury. I’m sure he feels many of the emotions I do and much, much more. But he can’t allow himself to wallow in them.

Don’t worry, baby, I cry enough for the both of us.

On Saturday, after flying off to parts unknown that very morning (I know the parts but I’m not putting the parts out there - this being military bidness and shit), R came back to the hotel to pick me up and drive me around all of the bases on San Diego.

Forgive me if I sound elementary, or call things the wrong names. Since R was a Reservist, the full submersion into military life is completely new to me.

Knowing that, R wanted to show me around. Being on a base is daunting to me. Of course I’ve been on a military base before but not in the way of actually knowing someone so closely that lives and works within one.

In some respects it looks like every other city. Boring brick buildings, a McDonald’s on the corner, people milling around. But there is a sense of purpose, a reason for respect. The people that live and work on a military base aren’t going to their jobs, surfing the internet all day and emailing what they’re having for lunch.

I mean, maybe they do but that’s not the impression one would get.

During the tour of the bases and the places that R visits for this meeting or that, he never minded my incessant picture taking. He complained through a lot of the weekend of the ever present camera, but not then. He’d stop the car and say, “Don’t you want a picture of the SEAL? The Seal of the NAVY?”

I know R is very proud of the work he does. He may jokingly complain or make light of it but I think he has to do those things in order to deal with it all.

I have great respect for R, for anyone that serves our country and for the people that support those that are serving our country.

Some people just don’t get it. And I’m not here and talking about this to change anyone’s mind or to make them see things differently. I know it, deep within me nearly as much as I know R feels it.

We drove by some of the ships that were in port and R would tell me their history or people he knew that were on them, and share funny stories. I listened like I have not before. I soaked in every detail.

We ended up at the NEX, which is like a mall with a food court and COACH bags. A typical looking mall. With COACH bags.

Sadly, I did not see one person in dress whites, least of all R. I guess the weekend hours are a time most sailors aren’t trying to wear their stuffy uniforms, who knew?

R and I got some food from Rubio’s and sat down to dig into our fish tacos, when I noticed a distinguished looking gentleman sitting at a table a short distance away. Even in a t-shirt and shorts, you could tell this man was someone.

R caught me looking at the man and he laughed. “That’s my Senior Chief.”

When the Senior Chief got up to empty his tray (he had Subway - natch) he caught sight of R and shouted R’s last name. The Senior Chief continued to talk across a few tables when R motioned him to come over to our table.

R immediately said, “I want you to meet my girlfriend, Mary…” The Super Chief (my new name for him, I love when R blusteringly corrects me) looked over at me and took my hand and once again asked my name in formal introduction.

I said it was nice to meet him, said my name but noticed he did not do the same. For someone so full of reverence I found it off-putting at first. Don’t people normally reciprocate in the name saying?

When the Super Chief first sat down, I stared down at my food as I was so intimidated by this man’s presence. I mean, I was eating… fish tacos? Lord.

I thought I should join in the conversation as to not be the mute girlfriend of R, but the acronyms, the Navy-speak I just don’t understand… it all flew straight over my head. I stick my foot in my mouth quite frequently but I try to curtail that particular character quirk.

Finally, the Chief (R would correct me. He’s not merely a Chief - he’s a SENIOR Chief) turned to me and asked where I was from and if I had driven or flown out to San Diego.

I began to loosen up and talk about my drive from Phoenix, and made him laugh a few times. I caught R looking at me with such pride that I could carry off a conversation with his (Senior) Chief and not make a total fool of myself.

The Chief then asked if I came out every weekend and I looked over at R, and he looked at me. I knew I was holding that glance for far too long. I’m not one to make others feel uncomfortable in our couple-dom but I couldn’t break the look once R wouldn’t let it go.

I think the Chief caught it, as he stood up shortly afterwards and said how nice it was to meet me, and to enjoy my visit.

Later, after I copped my new bag that I love so much and we were walking to R’s car, I said, “He never said his name. He was sure to learn my name but he never said his.”

“That IS his name”, was R’s reply.

“What is his name?” I went over the entire conversation in my head and not once did I remember the Chief saying his name. Was I completely rude and missed it?

“Senior is his name.”

I’m SUCH a civilian.