There were so many. Posers that is. Dexter S. had to be the worst of 'em. He was a guy who married some Newfie girl every year. A handsome young tearaway of 35 years who looked every bit of 50 used to promise the women the moon, the stars, the ring, and a chance to get away from "all this". Since "all this" was pretty much snow, freezing rain, rain, fog, then bad weather, and of course, that job gutting fish, most anything looked good by comparison. I began to recognize the predatory gaze of these lasses fairly early on, and Dex just used let them chase him until he caught 'em.
He used to find his way up to the lookout point of signal hill with his latest conquest, and in the faint light of the cucumber greenhouse on the hill opposite, would allow himself to be taken advantage of. That is to say, he would allow the lass to pour enough rum down his throat to get him to propose marriage. Then it was a frantic round of parents, uncles, aunts, priests, Christian brothers and military personel who set up an honest to gawd wedding before his two weeks detached duty in Torbay ended. Dexter was a clever one though. He was careful to stay drunk enough to maintain his (and by extension her) dubious virtue, and was extremely careful to not consumate anything after the vows.
I asked him once "Is there sex after marriage". He answered with a shrug, "beats me". This enabled him to get the annulment after 3 months on the grounds of non-consumation and her reasonably understandable resultant infidelity. Oh, he still chased skirts like crazy in the Summerside Junior Ranks Mess, and in "Anthony's" downtown. Of course, that was part of his cunning plan to be a perpetual groom. And in Newfoundland, a groom is treated like, well like a bride! They tell me that some places have the problem of brides who are so in love with the idea of being a bride that they will pull stunts like this over and over. Dexter was the first man I ever met who had "Marriage Addiction".
Things always worked out for the best. The lasses usually trolled the bars back home in PEI (the Garden of the Gulf, and home of Anne of Green Gargoyles, er, Gables) along side Dex, looking for a better prospect, and you know, on at least three occasions that I can testify to, it worked out...the lasses got another young government inspected Corporal to "take her away from all this" and they got happily posted away into the sunset. I kept in contact with one couple, and still, after what, 12 years, they are still happily married and living in Moose Jaw. I hear the fact that there is very little fog and freezing rain in Saskatchewan, and no hip breaking 30 degree ice covered roads goes a long way to keep their marriage solid.
Funny, never heard from Dex again though.
(the top pic of from Signal Hill lookin' over th' harbour. In daytime, the sun burns the fog off the water, but you can see it waiting at the entrance to come in like a socially disadvantaged relative. The bottom pic is Battery Road. thought I was just usin' hypberbole when I was describin' the 30 degree roads eh!)
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