In August of 1982, my wife, Betty, and our two daughters made the move to Canada. We moved to Hamilton, Ontario where she would be close to family. We got an apartment and moved in the furniture. I had to go back to New Jersey to clean up some lose work ends and also to close on the sale of the condo. That took weeks longer than I had hoped and I didn't get back up to Hamilton until September. All the while I had communicated with Betty and everything seemed to be going along as planned otherwise.

When I got back to Canada I went to the apartment to reunite with my family. Right away things seemed to go wrong. I couldn't get my key to work in the security door in the main floor lobby. When someone finally did come through so I could get in, my key did not work in the apartment door, either. I knocked on the door but apparently no one was home. Looking under the door, I was amazed to see that the apartment was empty! I ran down to the office to find out what was going on. The superintendent said that Betty and the girls had moved out two weeks ago - something about not liking the apartment. I asked where they went and he had only a phone number. I called the number and a guy - either asleep or drunk - answered and said I must have the wrong number.

I then called Betty's sister, Sharon. I knew there was going to be trouble, especially when Sharon tried to brush me off with: "Well, Ray, things have changed with Betty, and I guess you could say that you aren't going to be part of her life anymore." What? You could have knocked me over with the proverbial feather. "Can I at least talk to her?", I said. "You're wasting your time. She has already found someone else.", was the reply. Then I got pretty agitated, not only because I was losing a wife but because my two daughters were also involved. I talked about going to the police for help. Finally then, Sharon agreed to have Betty call me back. About 10 minutes later the phone rang and it was Betty. She repeated almost verbatim her sister's sentences. I said, "Tell me who you could have possibly found in just a few weeks that you would move in with." She said one word, "Richard".

Richard was her ex-boyfriend before she entered the U.S. Army. They had lived together for a couple of years and now, in my absence she had gone back to him. No way I was taking this laying down. I told her I wanted to see her and the girls and I wanted to see them now! She said that I had lost any power over her. That I wouldn't be seeing her or the girls without a court order. Then I said what was always the trump card in our relationship, "I'll fight him for you.". She laughed. She said, "Not only will you lose, but he could kill you for making me pregnant and having two kids with me. He's very jealous! You don't stand a chance!". I said if she really thought that, and wanted to get rid of me, she should really think about putting him up against me. Otherwise, I would have no other reason to think that he was so great, and probably, somebody that I could easily take if she gave me the chance. I said she apparently didn't want me to fight him because she really thought he'd lose despite her bravado. Betty coldly said, "There's a party Saturday night. Maybe 20 people. Here's the address. If you can beat him in front of these people he knows than I'll reconsider moving back with you. However, I think he'll crush your balls and I'd think twice of it if I were you." Faced with no other alternative, I agreed to the fight.

The party wasn't just any party. It was a biker party. There was some good news, and that was that by the time I got there, almost everyone was pretty blitzed. I had never met Richard before. He was about the tallest guy at the party though and you couldn't miss him. Maybe 6'3" or 6'4". He immediately came over to me as to intimidate me and said, "I'm Rick, Betty's boyfriend". A girl behind him said, "Yeah, Rick the Dick!". I said, "I'm Ray, Betty's husband." The crowd sarcastically said, "Oooooowww!". Then he blew air in my face, which reeked of booze. Before I could wonder about whether he might be drunk or not, I heard Betty's familiar voice, "Ray, I'm still not sure this is a good idea for you to be here." I replied, "Do I really have any choice?'. With a gleam in her eye that I could not understand she nodded her head in ascent.

The floor was cleared. There wasn't to be any more niceties. The fighting would be done in underwear and one other peculiar piece of equipment: mittens. You know the kind that you wore when you were a kid with no fingers and just a thumb. I was told that the thumb was to drive up your opponents vagina or rectum. It was also harder to hold your adversary. I thought this would put me at a distinct disadvantage not being used to the mittens. The inside of the mittens were also rather course so if guys were cockfighting they could use the inside of the mitt to bring off their opponent. When Rick (apparently only Betty called him Richard) took off his shirt he had a tattoo that said "Betty" on his shoulder. Great. When he took off his pants, I kind of got an idea of why the girl called him "Rick the Dick". Even through his underwear it seemed pretty substantial. What was it with my wives' boyfriends all seemingly having big cocks?

We came at each other. The first thing I noticed was that he seemed off-balance. Drunk? His friends of which none were mine, yelled at him, "Get the Little Fucker!". "He's the one that knocked up your old lady!". He started swinging wildly and I backed up, only to be pushed into the circle by his friends. The push knocked me into him and he fell on his side swearing. It was as he was starting to get up that I let go with the best right-hand punch I have ever thrown. I nailed "poor" Rick right in the left eye-socket (that was certainly going to be a shiner). He went down hard. I picked him up as best I could in the mittens and nailed him again on the other side of his face (not as good a punch). He went down to the floor again and was just staring up blinking and trying to figure out where he was, I think. His friends kept trying to get him to get up. I figured it was now time for the symbolic blow and I landed a right-hand direct hit on his package with as much force as I could muster. He screamed, "I'm going to kill you!" and put his mitten covered hands over his balls. From then on, I just kept hitting him in the head until one of his biker boys pulled me off of him. Rick was out!

Then everyone started saying how it wasn't fair because Rick was drunk. Someone suggested that they hold me there until he sobered up so that he could beat the shit out of me like everyone knew he could. Then Betty spoke, "Richard knew days ago that he was going to have to fight Ray. I don't know what he was thinking but Ray won fair and square because Richard didn't have to drink like he did. As far as the winner of the fight, it's Ray. But as far as who wins the prize, I'm staying here with Richard." I was stunned. What was the point of the fight? What did I win? I may really be in worse danger now. "Ray, come outside with me now", Betty said almost apologetically.

She took me to her car and drove me to my car. Her car being the better car, she said, "You need to leave, because when those bikers realize what really has happened you won't be safe here.". Go back to the U.S. and we'll figure something out as far as visitation for your daughters. Take the Grenada (her car) because I won't be driving very much here." After we shifted my stuff from the back of my car to the Grenada, she led me by the hand to the passenger's seat and got me to sit in it and then climbed on top of me and said, "There is a prize for you after all. You were incredibly brave to do what you did. I didn't think that you'd be man enough to beat Richard, and if he hadn't been drunk you would have had little chance. Unfortunately, you didn't know that no matter what, I wasn't leaving. However, you deserve this!" She closed the door and for the next 15 minutes impaled herself on my dick like a madwoman! We both came together, and then she left and went back upstairs.

I heard from her sister that she got pretty beat-up by Richard when he got sober. I'm sure that he did a bunch of other things to her also. In the end, I found out that Richard's sister had the girls and that Betty was not really free to leave. Eventually, Richard got tired of her and apparently just looking at her reminded him of the beating I gave him, that his friends apparently did not let go of telling him about. Betty moved back to the same apartment where we were going to live in the first place - the furniture had been stored there all along. I stayed in the U.S. and visited the girls on weekends. We had other adventures after this, but we never lived together again.