Christmas Tree Bracelet

Back in the late 80’s and early 90’s, I was living in Providence, Rhode Island and attending Berklee College of Music in Boston. I had a dear friend (whom we shall call “Ed” to protect his dignity as he is a stuffy, respected professor at a large university now).

Ed was attending Boston Conservatory as a classical pianist major, and I was at Berklee in the songwriting department. This was before the two schools had merged. I was having a tough time of it at Berklee because I am primarily a “word person” and cannot write a decent melody to save my life, so Ed would help me with composition. I also could not score worth shit, and he pretty much did all my scoring homework.

On the other hand, he hated copying parts. HE HATED COPYING. And he always was having to copy parts for different performances. I could copy decently. So we traded skills. I did his homework; he did mine. Back then, if you were a broke college student, you copied by hand with a calligraphy pen because going to a professional printer was ridiculously expensive. Now they have computer programs to do it for you.

One night, we are at his apartment in Boston, and I am copying parts for him, while he is working on something for me. We finish up. I want to think it is about 8:30 – 9:00 at night, and Ed decides he wants to go to a bar to find some dude to snog with and maybe get a phone number. (Gay boyfriends are the best, but that is for another post).

I felt like a beer, and he did not want to go by himself, so I agreed to go. Ed’s a Leo and always needed an entourage even if it was just little ol' me. I knew wherever we went no one would bother me (or so I thought) because there would only be gay men there, and I am obviously not part of that demographic. I told Ed I could only go for a little while, and that he would have to walk me to South Station so I could get home before the trains stopped running.

Next thing, I know Ed has me in front of a rough-looking gay biker bar not far from the train station, and I am like “Really, Ed?” But he wanted to go in, and I am a trooper, so I went in. Again, I felt safe. I am a girl, after all.

Ed was a horny, 20 something-year-old man on a mission. I just wanted a beer. I just wanted a beer.

I went to the bar, ordered a beer and Ed starts cruising around looking for something wet and juicy. I am quietly enjoying my beer and am lost in my thoughts, when I suddenly notice this dude standing next to me. Yeah, yeah, yeah, it's a leather bar, and he is basically dressed in “straps” of leather. Picture the leather dude from the Village People but with less hair, about 50 lbs. overweight, handlebar moustache, and super pale. Bless his heart, it really was not a good look for him

I look over at him, and he leans on the bar toward me and says, “Hey, pretty girl, I like the ladies too.” WTF. WTF! WT flying F!

That said, having been raised by East Texas parents that “being polite” is the utmost important thing in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD, I sweetly thanked him and turned back around to my beer and my thoughts.

Keep in mind, I have just spent hours copying something Mozarty, I am exhausted, dressed like a bum, probably wearing something flannel because it's the 90's, and my hands are covered with black ink. I am sending serious “Leave me alone” vibes, but he is JUST not getting it.

Suddenly, he grabs my arm, slaps the bracelet on me, and then tries to pull me close, saying “this is for you, sweetie.” Actually, I am not sure what endearment he called me, but it was not, would not, never in a million years ever work on me. And he GRABBED me!

I am now in total freak out mode because I am German, and I do not like strangers touching me much less GRABBING me. Only people I love and who love me back can touch me. That is a “Julie Rule.” Hands off! Ewwww... I still shudder thinking about it. Ewwww...

So, I forcefully yank away, grab my bag, politely excuse myself (because those East Texas ingrained habits just do not turn off that easily, and I am still being kind and polite as I was raised). I frantically go find Ed, and he is chatting up some dude. That's not true. They had their tongues down each other's throats. I smacked Ed in the arm, and said, “I need to go home NOW!”

I guess he knew something had happened that had really upset me, because he immediately broke off the snogging without an argument and we left. As we walked to the train station, I indignantly spewed out what had happened, and by the time we got to the trains we were both in hysterics laughing about it.

Ed could always make me laugh.

I had calmed down and the trembling and knee-knocking had subsided, and I could actually walk without shaking. I got on the train, headed home wondering what to do with the freaking BRACELET. I thought about throwing the bracelet away before I got home (because the HUSBAND tended to go bat shit jealous about weird things, and I did not want to deal with that in any way shape or form) but instead I put it deep in my bag and would occasionally wear it while I was in Boston. Because seriously look at it. The damn thing is a weapon.

I got safely back home to my simple little suburban wife/mother life. Jamie (now ex-husband) eventually did find the bracelet, and like I knew he would, he had a massive shit fit about it. I lied (not one of my better moments, I know because lying is NEVER acceptable in a relationship) and told him Ed gave it to me. Well, hell's bells that backfired on me badly. Because then he started in on why on earth Ed THOUGHT he could buy me kinky leather jewelry, and that he never thought Ed was gay, and accused me of all sorts of crazy nonsense... as if. For the record, Ed is so gay. Well, like often happens when you spontaneously LIE, you usually don't have a viable backstory, so the whole thing went sideways very quickly. Actually, the whole marriage was always going sideways. Looking back, I can actually see his point, but I could not at the time.

So, I hid the bracelet in a box and after my husband and I got divorced, I found it again and started putting it on my Christmas tree, kind of as a reminder of a great friend (Ed), a crazy ass night, and as a celebration of my freedom from a bad marriage.

That is why I have kinky leather jewelry on my Christmas tree.

- Julie O'Hara 2023

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