I Can’t Quit Either of You, Baby

Behold my cowardly handling of the situation

Kathy Copeland Padden
5 min readMay 21, 2022


“What? This old thing? I only wear it when I don't care how I look”

First, let me say I am not proud of any of this. But it happened, so here it is. These are actual journal entries of mine reporting the haps in real-time during 1983.

There is nothing more dangerous than a woman who journals.

I was still going out with the sweet Altar Boy who treated me like a princess, but Big B’s year-long campaign of filling my mailbox with his presence was wearing down my resistance. When I realized he wasn't giving up, the wheels in my head began turning at warp speed. I already knew the likely outcome, but lived in denial for a little bit. Even if it didn’t end well, I didn't care.

I have a high pain tolerance.

My favorite part of this journal entry is me telling myself to relax — even I didn't believe my own bullshit. Outstanding. And transparent.

OMG, I can't believe how much he’s changed! Gush, gush, gush. He was different though, and I fleetingly wondered if the Navy had lobotomized him.

Writing every ten days is more than we’d done since he first enlisted, but I didn't mention that in my journal. Oh, no. That would be an admission of guilt.

39 years later and I’m still making excuses. I should be studied.

A week later … (SpongeBob Narrator voice)

Gee, I wonder if he harbored more than friendly feelings for me too? I wonder. But naw. We’re gonna be pals. That’s right. Pals. Purely platonic, since I was taken. Yep. No shenanigans for us anymore. It still makes me laugh at how stupid we both were at times. OK, most of the time.

What I didn’t say was that I couldn’t wait to sit on his lap and nibble his lower lip and that’s all I could think of 24/7. That's what the truth was. So much for being honest with myself.



Kathy Copeland Padden

is a music fanatic, classic film aficionado, and history buff surfing the End Times wave like a boss. Come along!