I'm in the Philippines. I have a beautiful wife. I have a one year old daughter so gorgeous that even women holding their own babies stop and gasp and throw out superlatives. I just walked away from a six year gig in my first actual professional career and encouraged my wife to do the same so we could travel to her homeland and introduce our daughter to her grandparents. I drive a nice SUV that is less than a year old... that we not only got without benefit of a co-signer but got at an unheard of rate because... my credit is so good... I knew I wasn't the loser SHE made me feel like.
POISON ORCHID
"Men are pigs". "Men can't commit". "Men don't know how to be romantic". "All men cheat". I'd heard these things all my life... from sitcoms when I wasn't getting it from real women. Having not dated until I was 22, I had no way of telling how true they were... or weren't.
What I did know was these statements did not describe me at all. None of them. I loved romance. I respected women - men and children and dogs, too. I was willing to commit to the first 15 - 20 women I was attracted to if they'd have had me.
What I never expected to discover was that the above derogatory statements could describe a woman. I certainly never expected that when I discovered one, she would be the one I gave my heart to completely.
This is not about my wife. My wife is the one who completes me the way a mate is supposed to. My wife is the one I was supposed to wait for and save all that emotional investment for. My wife is the one who makes me feel not only like a worthy man but the best man who ever lived. My wife is the one who decided that I, and no other, was the man she wanted to be the father of her children. No, this isn't about my wonderful partner, who possesses all of the wonderful emotional stability and generosity of emotion common to her Filipino ancestry. This is about... HER. The one who tried her best to make sure I never knew such happiness and fulfillment. The one from that other nationality, known for emotional incompleteness within and an unquenchable desire to spew emotional abuse to others, especially to those who dare love them.
*
We met at work. I had always heard that was taboo, but I did not go to bars much and nothing was happening with the nice girls at church or the library. And standing in the produce section looking helpless turned out to be an overrated tactic. By the way, so did the most common cliche quoted by happily married people: "When you stop looking, that's when it will happen". Yeah. I stopped looking for 3 years and the only people that pursued me were the fine folks who had provided my student loan.
SHE had just been hired up in the front of the building... where the 'educated' people worked. Everyone noticed her. Everyone. I believe that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but I also believe that there are a certain percentage of women that every living heterosexual man in his right mind agrees on. Bridgette Bardo and Marilyn Monroe were in that group in the generation before last. Jessica Alba resides there today. Well, SHE had the gift as well. So, right off the bat, I did not like my chances. All of us peons in the back of the building, including the ones who spent more time in the gym than I, were after her as well as the Supervisors and Vice - Presidents, some of whom were not letting the distraction of their wives and 3 - 4 children stand in the way of this pursuit. She not only had the physical beauty that inspires poets, but there were rumors that she was a serious brain, possibly even a genius.
I had made a close friend of a girl who also worked in the better part of the building. She was married and was just a real sweetheart. The kind of personality that you wish every woman had, whether in the Alba class or just hoping to get there. She soon confirmed for me that this new girl that everyone was buzzing about did indeed have an IQ that gave her physical attributes a run for the money. In fact, my friend, Lisa informed me, SHE spoke four languages fluently. I was duly impressed, but all of this just made me feel even less hopeful of my chances of ever getting to know this vision at all. Heck, I was having no luck getting ordinary ladies - human beings - to notice me. What chance did I have with Venus herself?
One of the things that made Lisa's personality a thing of beauty was her encouragement skills. She is what is known in Christian circles as a Barnabas, so called after the apostle who was known for his ability to simply get others to believe "Yes! You ARE that important!" and "Yes! You CAN do that! In fact, if not YOU, who?". That was Lisa. She soon, and quite inexplicably had me convinced that I did have a chance at this unapproachable girl. In fact, she had done a casual survey in her mind of all the men in and around our little company, married or single, and had determined that no one had as good a shot as me. Ah, Lisa, they should all be like you.
Against my better judgement, because, frankly, I preferred Lisa's judgement, I began a plan of pursuit that I thought was somewhere near worthy of this spectacular creature. I started out very slowly. One day, I walked casually into the hallway of our building, recently painted a pale blue with hideous red trim, when I noticed through a window that she was headed my way. I said hello using her name. This seemed to startle her. "Excuse me", she said. "Have we met?".
"Not before now, no", I smiled.
"How did you know my...?"
"It's not a big company", I assured her. No need scaring her off by telling her that I, along with every other male in the place had already been reduced to the level of teenage girl by imagining what her first name would sound like with my last name.
"Take care, now", I said as breezily as I could fake while casually continuing down the hall.
"Bye", she said, somewhat cautiously.
A few more hellos, and then after Lisa had lain some groundwork for me ("My friend, Mike, is really a great guy. He's so much more mature than these other guys. And not too hard on the eyes, huh?", etc), I got up the courage to venture up to her part of the building and even go right into the lab she worked in almost always alone. I knew a woman like this had heard every line in the book and, besides, I was not much of a "line" guy. I decided to be obviously clumsy and use an opening so goofy, she would know I was not really trying to play her but was interested enough to come to her and make the effort to be goofy. I invited her to come watch me play softball the next night with the company team. I told her that the reason I wanted her there is that both her first and last name started with a vowel and, in softball circles, that was considered very good luck. She looked at me with disbelief for three seconds and then slowly smiled while looking directly into my eyes. I had never been this close to her under such good lighting. After I reformed into a man from the puddle I had just become, she pointed out yet another unique thing about her name. I threw up my hands. "Well, then", I declared, "Now you definitely have to come".
She didn't, and, in fact, she turned down the first ten or so things I invited her to. I had always prided myself on being able to take a hint with the best of them. I had never asked out a girl more than twice in my life but, again, those were human girls. Something in this girl's eyes would not let me quit. The eyes themselves were stunning, but it was more than that.
I would find things in the paper that I thought would be interesting to someone in her field and I would leave them on her desk. Eventually, I got bolder and started leaving poems and short prose, more light-hearted than what I wanted to write, but, again, I did not want to scare her off. On one of my visits to her lab, I mockingly told her how jealous I was of the stamp-sized picture she had of a Hollywood pretty boy she was obviously a fan of. I got one of the great thrills of my life when, on mentioning it on my next visit, she took the photo off the wall and smiled at me again. This gave me additional courage and I sent her flowers, which I had been dying to do for some time. My poems then started to more accurately represent my true feelings. Her birthday was coming up and I really wanted to do something for her. I mostly wanted to spend time with her. She had rejected every invitation so far, but I had to ask her. She allowed me to take her to lunch and I suppose I believe that somewhere, some time in history, someone has been happier than I was at that moment. Colleagues and coworkers go out to lunch together all the time. No big deal, right? No. This was amazing. Lisa had been telling me that as she got to know her, this mutual acquaintance of ours had opened up a bit and it turns out that she really never went out.. anywhere... with anyone. She apparently came from some strict family and she was very driven by her studies, so even though she was about to turn 22 years old and was drop dead gorgeous, she would go out dancing with her sister MAYBE twice a month and that was it. Other than that, she studied and, apparently, exercised.
I really was not sure what to make of that. It was a little odd to me, but I was also impressed anew at this new piece of the puzzle. And once she said yes to lunch alone with me, I thought "Wow! She never goes out with anyone except her sister, but she's going to lunch with me." It gave me an unexplainable thrill that I seemed to be special to this woman. I felt a wave of exultation wash over me that I had gone from no interest from women to the possibility that this most exceptional creature might have some sort of feelings for me.
We did lunch and I would like to give you the details but I was just kind of floating the whole time. All I can recall now, 13 years later, is that as she got out of the car, she thanked me and then leaned over and kissed my cheek. Such an offering from such a stunning beauty was obviously enough in itself to make me dizzy the rest of the day. But when I considered all that Lisa had found out and what I was discovering about HER myself and what appeared to be ultra reserved ways, I felt like I was in Heaven. This girl did not go around kissing people. I had never felt so happy.
About a week later, we did lunch again and after we sat in the parking lot waiting for the end of our lunch period for about five minutes, I took her hand and planted a gentle kiss on the back of it. She stared at me - that killer stare again - and then blushed and giggled. "I was so touched by that", she gushed. "What is it about you?"
It wasn't long, of course, that in such a small company, with more than half the employees watching her every move, that people began to notice that the guy from the back of the building, who was hardly Brad Pitt, but, if they were honest, was not Don Knotts, either, seemed to have done the impossible and gotten HER attention. A few of the guys, the vast minority, did what I have always done in defeat - the classy thing, I think - they gave me some light hearted ribbing about how it should have been them and then gave me some form of "Congrats" or "Way to go". I smiled and told them they were way premature. We were just friends. It was true enough. They did not need confirmation that I hoped things would progress and they would not get out of me what I inferred of her feelings from the things she'd said to me. Mostly, though, the other guys were not too happy with me. One of the big wigs I mentioned earlier, who very clearly was not only willing but was actively pursuing the fantasy of HER replacing his wife on his weekend getaways to Cape Cod or wherever, started being incredibly pompous to me. He also seemed to have this annoying vision of himself as her savior and would interrupt our hallway conversations, always with his back to me to make sure she wanted to be involved in this conversation. I don't know if she ever told him that she was enjoying the conversations very much but she always told me that. And I always enjoyed her mocking comments about him after he was gone. He was twenty years older than her (compared to my mere eight), balding and quite... stocky. Lisa and I actually spoke about how he was in the genius class himself, but SHE, the one who he so desperately wanted to protect and make happy for the rest of their lives, had no use for him. SHE once told me that the people over at the corporate office were far from impressed with him and she clung to that opinion as her own. I can't say I was disappointed. But she never did say any such thing in front of him. She was a smart career girl, after all and putting one of the higher ups in his place in public would not do her career, or, more likely, mine any good.
Getting her to come to my apartment was like... no, pulling teeth HAS to easier than that. It just was not done. A single girl going to a single man's apartment? Never! My admiration grew. As did my frustration. I should mention here that my own beliefs and emotional structure is such that I had absolutely no intention of a physical relationship at this point. I have what would be called by most, a quirk. But it is something I really like about myself. Although I have very strong natural urges concerning beautiful women, once I really start to care about one emotionally, I cant' really think about them - or anyone else - ... like that.. at all. I think about all the good stuff women probably hope we're thinking about as we date them: When is the next time we can have a three hour conversation on the phone? Will she go to Broadway with me? Is it too soon to introduce her to the family? What would we name our kids? My frustration was that all of THAT stuff was taking so long to get going. She finally agreed to come to my place when she realized my intentions were indeed honorable. And even then, I had to swear that no one would ever know. If her parents ever found out, her life would be over. I assured her that I had as much interest in protecting her and her reputation as she did. We just had a little food and watched one of those claymation Christmas specials on video. It was one of my favorites and she had never seen it. I walked her back to her car and we kissed each other on the cheek. I could not not think of a less carnal evening and it was one of the most exciting experiences of my life. SHE had been in my apartment.
Lisa had mentioned to me that SHE had shown, on occasion, a temper that was just a little sharp. I was dumbfounded. I had never seen even a hint of this. "She probably doesn't want to show it to YOU", Lisa smiled, "She wants you to see her best".
"Right", I teased, "Because if she showed a little anger, I'm out of there. Really, what does she have going for her besides an even temperament?"
I got my first introduction to the temper one time when I invited her to a movie. She happily agreed, but then backed out because her family had secured an opportunity to go see a live performance of someone she admired (not the Hollywood pretty boy). When she told me that she had to cancel our date, I was disappointed, of course, but it was fine. Before she told me the reason, however, I felt inclined to display a mock angry reaction. I thought it would be a nice, lighthearted way of expressing to her that I was always disappointed whenever I couldn't be with her. So I joked "Boy, you pretty girls just think you can do what you want. What's the emergency? Got to polish your boots?" I'm not sure exactly what it was about the comment that bothered her, but suffice to say I was no longer in the exclusive club of people who had not seen her sharp temper.
We quickly got past that but the temper was showing up more and more frequently. And then, some oddly placed nastiness began. One time, after I had taken her to lunch and bought her a flower, we got back to her lab, where Lisa and a male coworker were finishing up a project. SHE mentioned that she had wanted to leave the flower in her car to take home. I thought I was being gallant when I suggested "Oh, give me your key. I'll run it back to your car for you." I guess she did not appreciate the gallantry.
She snapped "Who do you think you are? You think I'm going to just give you my keys because we've gone out a few times?" She accomplished what must have been her goal and thoroughly embarrassed me. Lisa and the guy and I all looked at each other but none of us had an explanation for what we just witnessed.
I looked back at her in silence for a few seconds and then answered, with some sharpness, "Yeah! That was stupid of me. I hope you can forgive me someday." I went back to work. She called me later and apologized. I asked her what it was about and she said she did not feel comfortable with that kind of intimacy.
We had been... dating, I guess you'd call it, for months and the score was four shows of temper and zero kisses. As exhilarated as I was that this amazing creature was spending time with me, my annoying sense of self worth was nagging at me that I should not be putting up with this and I should just give her one more kiss on the cheek and say goodbye. Frankly, this is another thing that sets me apart from the male stereotype. No other man would consider walking away from HER. Even if she had chopped off a couple of his limbs. Well, the point soon became moot because I discovered a far better reason for walking away from her - Miss "I could never go to a man's apartment" and "Don't keep a young lady like me out too late, please" had had a boyfriend the whole time.
*
Ain't that a kick in the head? Lisa found out and, of course, had a hard time determining how to tell me. Not only did she abhor hurting people, but she felt horribly responsible for pushing me into this person's arms to begin with. SHE told Lisa and then made her swear not to tell me. SHE wanted to at least be big enough to tell me herself. In spite of the betrayal, I found myself admiring her again for both that bit of morality and the fact that her never allowing me to kiss her, really kiss her, or even hold her hand suddenly could almost be put into noble terms since she was not really free to do such things.
Well, Lisa could not hold out. Guilt and the incredible sense of friendship that sets her apart led her to tell me one night at dinner with her husband. I was crushed, of course, but Lisa and Chuck were very proactive in helping me work through my feelings - Lisa with her miraculous gift of making me feel that only good can come of this and Chuck with the more common macho mantra of "Screw her! We're men! There'll be another one coming down the road soon enough!" Oddly, both approaches made me feel better in their own way, but it still was a pain I had never felt before. Lisa then asked me to promise that I would not tell HER that Lisa had told me and that I would let HER tell me in her own way and own time. I did not point out the incongruity of Lisa trying to sincerely secure a bond of my word ten minutes after so blatantly betraying the similar promise she had made to HER. I was not in a mood to nitpick. I promised, mostly because I was dying to see how SHE would tell me or even if she would at all.
The next day, I went to her lab as cheery as ever and she was very clearly guilty. At least it seemed clear to me but then, I knew her dirty little secret. We engaged in small talk for a few minutes and then she cracked. "Listen", she began. I have been gifted with an ability to imagine almost every possible scenario whenever something monumental happens or is about to and one of the ways I had pictured this conversation starting was with the word "Listen". Its kind of a classic opener for difficult conversations and I kind of smiled to myself when she opened with it.
Well, she launched into it. She was uneasy and emotional but she did not cry. She was still the professional and we were at work. She had a boyfriend but he was in the country of her parents origin. She loved him but long distance relationships yada yada yada. I did Lisa the service of acting surprised and then I told her that I was very disappointed. I reminded her that I am a guy of strict beliefs and morals and I never played games with her (other than Lisa being as involved as she was, but Lisa had HER interests as much at heart as mine. Lisa just thought we would be good together and she tried to make it happen. Matchmaking is not a crime. In fact, I consider it completely altruistic). I told her I was sorry she could not be as honest with me. I asked her what she imagined would happen now and her answer caught me off guard. I was sure she would try to recoup what hint of morality she imagined still existed and tell me that she was sorry but our relationship was over as she had to now work hard to make up to her boyfriend this sin she had committed against him , which he would probably never know about.
"Well, you always said you would not date someone who had a boyfriend. That you would never be the other man, so....." I could not believe what I was hearing. Was she actually leaving it up to me? Was she actually suggesting that she was OK with continuing to see me while she held on to this poor guy in the old country? I was offended on so many levels, I did not really know where to begin. And yet...
Lisa did an amazing job of convincing me that this "relationship" with the boyfriend could hardly be called that. It was clear to Lisa that SHE held on to this guy because SHE was, for all HER genius, charm and beauty, a child when it came to personal relationships and this man was not so much a human being to HER as he was a safety net and, more, an excuse to not get too close to anyone who happened to occupy the same continent as HER. I explained to Lisa that this information hardly made me want to try to get closer to HER.
"Yeah", Lisa said with that knowing smile, "But you DO want to get closer to her for myriad other reasons and, as your counselor, I'm letting you know that you don't have to stand by your principles on this one. You are not going to be breaking some gentleman's code here because he is not really her boyfriend. She has not been back to her country for two years. What kind of romance do you think this is? I'm not saying that there are not tremendously romantic stories of people being faithful and keeping the fire burning over time and long distances out of necessity. I'm telling you that I have gotten to know her. If you want to walk away and not risk getting hurt, then do it. You've got a great excuse to now. But, my friend - and I hate to be the one to complicate your life - she cares more for you already than she does for this "boyfriend" of five years. You just have to decide if she's worth being the one to help her though her issues. You have to decide if all the coming work is worth being the one standing by her at the altar when the smoke clears. It'll be a tough row to hoe, but... I think you know better than I do that she has her gifts along with her trials. So, is she worth it?"
I decided she was. Lisa convinced me against every rational thought in my body that I should continue, and even step up, the wooing of this angel I once thought was perfect and now was discovering may be more work than any person I had ever known. I always tell Lisa I'll never forgive her for it.
*
And so I began this new, very odd part of our relationship. SHE and I had to keep up this ploy that we were just friends for the benefit of her fragile emotional state. We were just friends that went to the movies together. She was just a friend that I took to Broadway. We were just friends that spoke on the phone three hours a night and had lunch four times a week. We were just friends that kept getting warned by our supervisors for spending so much work time talking to and smiling at each other. (Mr Bigwig was out of his mind that a mere peon like myself had won the battle for this treasure). And finally, on one glorious morning, she came to my apartment wearing tiny white shorts and a tiny white shirt and we became friends that kissed... a lot... very... very passionately. She had the softest lips and most expert tongue I had ever encountered or even dreamed of. And now that I had seen more of her body than ever - although still not all - I was completely enraptured. She had the kind of body that I had been sure was only drawn by the skilled male artists of DC Comics who had no reason to draw for their loyal fans anything less than heroines and even villainesses with absolutely perfect figures and flawless skin. And yet, here she was, in real life... in my arms... kissing me.
It should have been perfect. It should have been one of the great romances and one of the great happy endings of all time. However...
After SHE completed her assault on my life, my heart, and my mind, I saw a Psychologist for a while. Very nice man. Reminded me of Bob Ross, the television painter remembered fondly for his preschool teacher's soothing voice and for teaching us all to paint "happy little clouds". I explained to him that she was from a culture that, as backed up by a dear male friend of mine at the time who is from the same country, does absolutely nothing to make women feel worthy and, in fact, it is rare when a woman of the culture has a father who does not tell her how unworthy she is every day. "Why do you think I married an American girl, man?" my friend posed to me. "Our women are very, very difficult people to deal with, and especially to date. I love my country, believe me, but I think you're crazy trying to court one of these women. World of trouble". That's what's wrong with the world today. Guys like me not taking advice from those who would know.
Anyway, I told Dr Happy Clouds that I, not to mention Lisa, was convinced that I could turn that around. Another quirk of mine is that I absolutely love making people feel good about themselves. I was not in Lisa's class as an encourager, but it was something that gave me great satisfaction. Especially in this case. I was always sincere. And I told her: "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I'm counting models, actresses, princesses, comic book super heroines. You name it". "You are a genius". "You are the one I've waited my whole life for". And for a while, she was loving it. And reciprocating. She told me I was sexy and romantic and the most caring man she'd ever known. She told me she did not know men like me existed and that I made her feel better about herself than she ever thought possible. But then she got weird, distant, cold, eventually cruel. I told the good doctor that I was sure I could rescue her.
He smiled and said, very kindly "That's because you watch too many movies. Mike, listen. It should happen just as you said. These girls (He concurred with the devastating effects of the fathers on their daughters in the culture in question) are raised believing nothing they do is ever good enough. They are told this by the very people whose job it is to give them their initial sense of self worth. Yes, the mother is often just as skimpy with her praise. Now, here's a girl who is obviously stunning to look at. She is charming, she can dance, she is going for a Master's degree and she speaks four languages. I doubt if her parents have praised her 5 times in her entire life. It's always "You can do better. Try harder". Never "Nice job, princess. We're proud of you. Let's get some ice cream". So, a guy like you comes along and tells her she's the best. She's amazing. She's the woman you've always dreamed of but better."
The smile returned.
"If this story were starring Tom Hanks instead of you and we were paying $8 to watch it, you bet he would ride in on his white horse, convince the girl she was as special as he thinks she is and they would ride off into the sunset together... but this isn't Hollywood. It's reality. So, let me tell you what I've learned in twenty years of practice about reality and girls who inherited nothing but low self esteem from their Daddies. In the vast majority of cases, she may - or may not - enjoy the honeyed words of a handsome stranger, but eventually, when she has a quiet moment and the pounding of her heart from your attentions is not distracting her, she will ask herself "Hey. Wait a minute. What is this guy up to? I know I'm not all those wonderful things. Daddy told me so. And Daddy wouldn't lie." She will at least start to doubt you and your intentions. In most cases, she will have to convince herself to hate you. 'How dare he come into my life to deceive me... and contradict Daddy Dearest to boot'. I'm afraid that's what happened to you, my friend."
A good man.
But that was the end of the story. The pain and ugliness came in the middle:
First of all, she again made me promise not to tell anyone about our relationship. That should have sent up red flags right there. And it did. In fact, everything I'm about to relate made my inner voice scream "RUN AWAY, MAN! RUN WHILE THERE'S STILL TIME!" But, what is that other complaint about men from real women and sitcom characters alike? "Men are out the door the second they find the tiniest flaw?" I was not most men and I was committed to sticking around. And, believe me, in between the craziness and pain, she would let herself relax and enjoy and those times made the work and the emotional gut punches bearable... for a while. I remember her middle name began with an M and it was a name from her culture. I never saw it written down and it was an adventure to pronounce. But it should be Mixed-signals. It went like this:
We would go out to lunch, maybe eat, maybe not, but always kiss and hold each other and gaze into each other's eyes. Then we would get back to work and she would pretend not to know me. One day, I held the door for her and, apparently, there was another girl coming the other way. SHE walked through and my smile went unreturned. Then the other girl bellowed, "Gee. Thanks a lot, Mike" when the door apparently did not stay open for her. My sweetheart threw in "I know. Nice friend, right?" and kept walking.
Remember that passionate first kiss? It took place the day after I took her to Broadway. On the limo ride home, she informed me she could not see me anymore. So when I say above that it was a lovely morning when she showed up barely dressed to kiss me for the first time, it did not start out so lovely.
She told me a few more times that we could no longer see each other because of her "loyalty" to the anchor living across the Atlantic. Usually this lasted two or three days until she showed up at my apartment in something... attention - grabbing, sometimes in tears. Sometimes, she would go to Lisa in tears, telling her she couldn't bear to lose me and then, after after giving a mini lecture entitled "Then Stop Breaking Up With Him", Lisa would come and convince me to give her one more chance.
One time, she pulled the stunt and I had had enough. I smiled. I kissed her. I told her she was the most amazing woman I'd ever met, that I was sorry I could not hold onto her and then I walked back to my Venus - less, but still fulfilling life. Lisa tried but I stopped her before she got rolling. I told her it was over for good, that even a man as patient as I... or Job... could only put up with so much. I was bugged, but I was fine. I had been hurt before but at least I got out before I got too emotionally involved. I started to think about all the times I had made public declarations of admiration for her only to have her embarrass me by looking away or downright rolling her eyes. And then we would get alone somewhere and she would apologize and kiss me and whisper in my ear and tell me she just did not want others to know how we felt about each other. I always forgave her and things would be good for a few days and then another humiliation at the hands of this beautiful, genius level, child. I thought about these things and I was happy I got to spend some time with her and I was happy I got out before she did any permanent damage.
*
This lasted a few months, during which she dressed in very frumpy clothing and many of my friends mentioned to me that she looked pale and sick. I was worried, but did not want to approach her, for much the same reason one does not approach the stunningly beautiful and deadly African Tiger. I just didn't want her to misread my concern for renewed interest. So, I went to Lisa and I should have expected her answer. "What do you expect? She lost the love of her life."
"The safety net dumped her?"
"No, Stupid."
Then I saw where she was headed. "Stop! I didn't come here for that."
"You asked why she looks like death warmed over. I told you. You don't have to believe me".
As always. Lisa's words made me feel good, but I could not... or would not believe she was heart broken over me. I would not go back to the tiger cage, no matter how beautiful the creature within.
Another month or two and SHE went back to dressing as a stunner really should in our society. I thought "Well, whatever it was, she's over it now and, apparently ready to get back in the game". I reminisced for a minute, took a breath, and even mustered up enough character to quietly wish the next guy better luck.
My world made sense again. I worked. I played softball. I rooted for the Mets. I had dinner with Lisa and Chuck or this other couple I knew two or three times a week. Mister Third Wheel. That was me. It felt right. At least it felt comfortable.
Then, one morning, I'm sitting at my work station doing some paper work, living the dream, when I hear this incredibly sweet, sexy, happy, sing - songy voice behind me. "Hello, Mister. Working hard?"
"Oh, please, no" I thought. I turned and SHE was beaming and me as she danced along down the hallway. I gave a courtesy smile, but when she was gone, it became a "what the heck was that?" kind of scowl. My gift for picturing every possible explanation kicked in. She's just letting me know I didn't hurt her. She has a new guy and she's dying to tell me about him. She found the right drug to smooth out the mood swings. Whatever it was, I was not biting. I could think of no real reason to. I went back to work and put it out of my mind. Over the next few days, a few more breezy comments or questions were thrown at me and then, finally "What? Are you not talking to me anymore?"
I tried to quickly deduce where she had been for the past few months. But I just answered sweetly, "No, I'm talking to you... um... how's it going?"
This launched her into a deliriously happy recounting of what her and her sister had been doing, what new things she was studying at school, the interesting research she was doing at the front of the building, etc. She was thrilled to be talking to me and there was no mention of another guy or the safety net. I never felt such a conflict of emotion. But I knew I had to stop this. When she took a breath, I said, "OK, that's great. I better go. See ya later".
She smiled and sang "OK! See ya later, Mister".
I walked, no, I think I ran to the nearest phone in an area she was unaware of and dialed Lisa's extension. "Lisa. I want a straight answer. I don't want a pep talk and I certainly don't want you to be her campaign manager again. Just tell me - what is she up to?"
Her smile could not be more apparent if I was staring at her. "Whatever do you mean?"
"LISA!"
"Hey, I told you months ago she was heartbroken and you chose not to believe it. Now she's back and you're surprised and I'm not. hmmmmm...?"
"I hate you."
"You don't know how to hate. So, what are you going to do?"
"Are you serious? Nothing!"
For the first time in our relationship, I made her go silent. Then, sadly, "Really?"
"Yes, really. Now, you're the one who's surprised? Maybe you're the one who has not been paying attention. What do you think? She's cured?"
"Probably not, but..."
"No campaigning".
"BUT", she continued emphatically, "She has obviously done some soul searching and made some decisions and walla, she's dressing to attract again and trying desperately to get you to talk to her. Don't be an idiot".
"So, your advice is to NOT be an idiot by going back to her. I'm to prove my lack of idiocy by saying 'Yes, I will give you chance number four hundred ninety one to hurt me and humiliate me'?"
"You do have a way with words", she said smugly. "I don't know if I'm saying any of that. What I'm saying is you want her and she has apparently finally realized she wants you."
"If she wants me, then she'll have to work as hard as I did to even get me to drop my wall."
She laughed. "Whatever, you stud. Just listen to her".
"Is the boyfriend gone."
"I honestly don't know. And I honestly still think it couldn't matter less."
I made no promises. I would play it by ear.
SHE started approaching me in the lunch room and other public venues. She would call me at night. A few times, she asked if she could come over and I would tell her it was not a good time. I did not see it as revenge for the way she put me off at first. It was just that, again, men actually do have feelings and mine felt very exposed when she was around. I was genuinely just protecting myself. She was working very hard to impress me. She started cooking lunch for me at her home and bringing it in to work. She started wearing skirts to work a lot more often because she knew I was crazy about her legs. A few times, she came to the small dining area and sat with me at lunch, in front of a bunch of coworkers who could make no mistake about how forward she was being. Once, she even blew me away by reeling off the starting lineup for the '86 Mets, my heroes from the decade before, from memory. Then, one night, we had a four hour conversation during which we both broke down a lot more barriers than we ever had before.
The next morning, I was talking to a few of the bosses from up front. I had recently been promoted - although I was still in the back - and we were going over my new duties when I heard from behind that sweet voice. Only this time, it was more honey filled and loving than I had ever heard it. This time, she not only used that voice in front of others, but in front of the bosses. In front of the moron of a VP who had delusions of sweeping her off her feet. This was a blatant intrusion of a private discussion involving the big wigs just so she could say to me "Good morning, Michael". She stood there for three or four seconds after she said it and after I had turned around with surprise and delight. She ignored the VIPs and just stood smiling at me.
"Good morning", I finally managed and I smiled back. I had never meant a smile more. She finally walked away and I finished my meeting a minute or two later. Lisa's office was directly across from where this encounter took place and as I walked by, she was beaming.
"Ah, Shaddup", I mumbled as I passed her door.
We started going out on actual dates. She always came to my place or we would meet somewhere. I never went to the home she shared with her sister and their parents. I eventually got confirmation that she had officially broken up with the guy, but she still was not comfortable with having me over. It seemed like the family liked the guy and had an idea that it was my "fault" for breaking them up. Plus she told me her parents would have a problem that I was of a different nationality and different religion. Her sister at first seemed interested in getting to know me, but then my beloved told me that during our separation or whatever it was, she MAY have led her family to the conclusion that it was some meanness on my part that led to the funk she found herself in during that time. She MAY have. Anyway, she felt terrible about it now but she had to save face with her family back then and she would now start a full throttle campaign to get them to love me.
But, before she ... got the chance, her family went back to their country for a while and this apparently made her feel free. Like an actual grownup who could do whatever she wanted. Like a grown woman who could choose who she wanted to date. For the next four months, it was dating, kissing, flirting, long phone calls, leaving notes for each other, even making out in her lab several times. It was at this point, that I really got in trouble. It was at this point that I crossed over from being completely infatuated with and beguiled by a complete knockout to falling in love with an exceptional woman. I now knew what it was to be in love and be loved and to be thoroughly happy. We had the "Happy Days" experience of paying our hard earned money for a night at the cinema and then seeing none of the movie. Two minutes into it, she asked for a sip of my drink. I playfully said no and she begged me very seductively. We were on each other for the next two hours. I don't think we finished the drink, either.
And we had fifty more experiences just like it. I told her I loved her once or twice and she could not not say it. She explained all the psychosis surrounding that reality and asked me to give her time. I said, "Well, I can give you time to work up to saying it as long as you feel it. Do you?" She closed her eyes hard for a few seconds. Then, she opened them, raised them to mine, smiled, and nodded. She then laid on my bed, pulled me on top of her and kissed me hard. She then took my right hand, placed it on her left breast and squeezed my hand around it. That's as far as we went but I took it as confirmation that she either did love me or had enough care and/or desire for me to tear down her ample physical restrictions while she worked it out.
About a week after that, we were gazing out of the window of my dark apartment trying to catch a glimpse of a lunar eclipse on a cloudy night. While we waited, she started teasing me about how difficult her bra was to get off and that if I tried I could not do it. I gave it a few shots with varying degrees of success. But playing with her rear located straps was the most fun I had that night.
One time, after a brief argument, she took off her jean jacket to show me a brief glimpse of her see-through shirt and then went home. She called me and told me she was taking a bubble bath and in what became both the most erotic and most frustrating moment of my life to that point, she spent the next twenty five minutes describing in great detail everything I would be seeing if I was standing in her bathroom at that moment.
Then, there was the time we went on a double date with Chuck and Lisa, during which the girls ran into a grocery store for some food. SHE emerged with some marshmallow desert topping and for the rest of the evening, in front of our friends and in private, she suggested all the things we could do with it when we were alone.
It was all talk, though. The next time I actually tried to touch her breast, I nearly got my finger broken. Lisa continued the one deception we perpetrated on our friend and kept telling me all the amazing and wonderful things SHE would say about me "behind my back" and her feelings for me. She clearly had as much desire for me as I had for her, but, apparently, she was just as patient as I was. I had never wanted anyone or anything more, and yet I was perfectly happy to wait for her. Our honeymoon would be the stuff of legend.
At the end of the four month journey through the best experience I could imagine this side of Heaven, our company threw its annual Christmas bash. I was so looking forward to our first time being seen together as a couple by the entire company. I hoped it wasn't petty but I was so proud to be seen with her. I sometimes think of that drive to the party as the last happy moments I had before meeting my wife... seven years later. We got there and after a fair meal, I asked her to dance two or three times and each time she said she wasn't in the mood. Then, one of the young, married Latin guys - a real stud, I must admit - from up front came over and asked her and she screamed "I'm out there!" with a huge smile and they hit the dance floor. My jaw hit the ground. When I looked over at Lisa, so had hers. She scooted over to my beloved's empty chair.
"Um, what in the name of all that is holy was that?", she asked. I just looked at my napkin and shook my head. SHE came back to the table as if nothing was wrong. I said nothing and neither did Lisa. A half hour later, I recovered enough to ask her to dance again, and we were watching a rerun. I asked, she said no, and then Stud boy was there and she actually said "I'm out there!" again. I was very close to walking out but Lisa grabbed me and we had a dance.
After the party, I drove HER home and asked for an explanation. "For what?", she asked, shocked that I was upset about something. When I told her, she calmly explained that he knew the dances and I did not. Lisa's words about how this person with the supermodel looks and the physicist's mind was socially an infant came more into focus than ever. To this day, I don't know what planet she was raised on that she thinks that was acceptable behavior, especially after she begged me to give her another chance.
I forgave her - again - and the hits kept on coming. One time, a bunch of us, including HER, Lisa, and me started using a catch phrase that we all thought was amusing but none of us could remember where the heck we had heard it. I said it to my sister one time and she mentioned the TV show from which it had originated. I was so excited that I called HER to tell her the source. The next day, when all of us who used the phrase were standing around, I started to excitedly tell them the long sought after answer. "EXCUSE ME!", she bellowed, and then berated me for daring to tell them the answer when, for some reason, she felt it was her right to get the credit. This was astonishing since she got the answer from me and since nobody was talking about it until I brought it up. If she wanted to tell them, why had she not brought it up. When I again asked for an explanation, she said she did not like people taking credit from her. Again, I started questioning her planet of origin. It could not have been a less important issue but that just scared me more. If she acted this way on the small stuff, how psychotic would she get over, say, what faith to raise our children in?
Her family came back from her country and things predictably got worse. They got excruciating when she went over there herself. When she came back after three weeks, it was like talking to a stranger. I had not heard from her during her trip. And she was back three days without a call when I called her. I had not felt such frost since my one and only ski trip when my constant tumbles caused me to bring home half the mountain in every pocket and orifice I had to offer. If this had been any other woman, I would have started to question what I did wrong, but it was her. I knew it was something going on in her mind. Just to follow procedure, however, I did ask HER if I did anything wrong. To my shock and to the long term detriment of my emotional stability, she started listing all the things I did wrong, all the things that were wrong with me, all the things I would have to spend years fixing if I wanted a chance to maybe, someday, hopefully be worthy of her. She started listing and she did not stop for months. Among my "faults":
* I obviously had feelings for Lisa and I was only pursuing HER because Lisa was married and SHE would be no one's second choice.
* I should have saved my late mother's inheritance for her instead of wasting it on college and taking care of some friends.
* I should have finished my degree before I met her.
* I should not be a jealous maniac. This was apparently in response to my daring to be upset at the Christmas party disaster.
* My ancestors from Europe should have been born a few countries over so she would not be dating from outside her culture.
* I should watch less television.
* I did not make enough money.
That last one was the straw.
The Lisa thing was something other coworkers gossiped about from time to time because none of them had ever had a friend of the opposite sex, so "SOMETHING must be going on", but for her to bring that up after all we'd been through...
My mother's money was none of her business, even if I had married her. It all happened years before I met her.
I got burned out on studying. I was not the student she was and I certainly was not going to be the lifelong student that she wanted to be. But I figured I would get back to it some day, which I did. The funny part of that was even back then, when she was getting straight A's in her Master's program and I still had not finished my Bachelor's, she still always considered me the smarter. She always asked me to proof all of her papers and she professed a desire to be somewhere close to the writer I was.
The next two really warranted no response and the TV thing was surprising because during my pursuit of her and certainly when we were together, the only TV I watched were the programs we both enjoyed and dissected and the Mets.
But when she brought up money, my blood began to boil. Well, it would be more accurate to say that my heart began to break. That she would be looking for "security" in a mate was not the issue. That would just put her in the same class as ninety - seven percent of the women I know: Women who have disappointed me. As I started out saying at the beginning, women have all of these phrases about men. They want to make us think that all they want is romance, poetry, protection, laughter, to be appreciated...LOVE. But then a guy like that comes along and it's "Oh and did I forget to mention...?" Then, they lay the "security" thing on you.
But, no, that is not what killed me in this instance. In this case, I was crushed because I knew HER for about three days when I told her in no uncertain terms that I would never live for money and would probably never be a millionaire. I told her I was looking forward to earning an honest living in a fun career and taking care of my wife and children. I told her I would live my life and enjoy my time with my family. I would NOT be one of these people who work 65 hours a week for 40 years because they are deluding themselves that the more money they have, the happier they'll be. I told her my wife would always have the security of a husband who was faithful and caring and would work hard and make wise decisions about their life and about their finances and if The Lord decided to bestow great riches on us as well, that would be fine. And HER response? ... SHE was delighted. DELIGHTED! She said she was thrilled to hear a man say such things. That she was tired of the men she knew who were in love with their careers and seemed to push their wives and children to the rear of their lives.
So, now here we were after two years of my spending every waking moment pursuing her, wooing her, crying over her, grieving over her, and basically living for her. Writing her poetry and other forms of homages, travelling all over creation to show her a good time and spend time with her. Doing more emotional work and receiving more emotional scars than ever in my life, including when I discovered my Dad's body at Christmas at age fifteen. And now, she decides that, in addition to all of that, I also have to make four to five times what I am making now in my paycheck if I truly love her... If she had mentioned that on day three instead of day 722, she could have saved us both a lot of time and trouble and me a lot of pain because I would have been gone then. But now, when I was fully invested and completely in love with her, she decides she is leaving me because what I told her on day three turned out to be true.
She not only left me, but seemed to go out of her way to try to humiliate me. She started dating a guy at work younger than me and herself. She even allowed him to borrow her car so he and his friends could go to lunch when she knew him less than a month. You'll remember this was the same girl who threw a tantrum because I dared ask for her keys one day to put her flower in her car for her. This new boyfriend and one of his buddies started taunting me, which I thought was interesting - not only do you benefit from her psychosis by being allowed to be in her company but you are now going to mock the guy she is trying to punish by being seen with you? My response to those children was anger and once I faced them down, they slithered away, but the pain I experienced concerning her was monumental. She continued to be cruel in her words and actions. I left the company, made appointments with Dr. Happy Clouds, and for the next six years basically dropped out of society. I became one of those annoying guys who whined about his broken heart to all who would listen. I had a few clients in my new job who happened to be psychologists and they were kind enough to give me some free therapy during assignments. There were several other clients and other associates who were not therapists but who I unburdened myself on. Many of them were helpful. Most of them added to my pain by proving themselves fair weather friends and deserting me because it was too much work being with me through my pain. This included close friends and even family. I had what most people call a nervous breakdown. I had never given my heart so completely to someone and she treated me more cruelly than anyone ever had. The pain was unbearable. My mind was whirling. Of all people, I never thought I would need psychoanalysis or mood enhancers, but thanks to my beloved, I now was on both. I basically sat on my couch for six years asking why, sighing, and watching ungodly amounts of television.
Once, during the time I gave up on her and before she began to campaign to win me back, I spent some time with a girl and we were intimate. I told HER about it after we got back together and she was upset. I told her that as far as I knew at the time, SHE was gone forever - that SHE had made it clear, in fact, that SHE could not commit to me. Lisa explained that I was right, but that a woman, even if she treats a guy like crap, as SHE had me, always wants to believe that the guy is pining over her. They don't want to hear that you were with someone else, even if they pushed you away, even if it was months later.
Well, little did SHE know that she pushed away the pining king. More than six years, I did nothing but think about HER , cry about HER, mourn HER loss.
As I said at the beginning, I am now married to the one the Lord had for me all along. She is my sweetheart and she tells me constantly that she is thrilled to be with me and I certainly feel the same of her. Our little girl is a miracle and, frankly, I am thrilled that she has inherited her mother's emotional stability and strength.
But that's now. I still have not gotten an explanation of why I was tortured for two years and suffered for six. I guess it's like the good doctor told me - being the white knight looks very romantic, not to mention easy, in the movies, but beware who you try to rescue ... or even love ... in real life.
Then again, how bad could she have been? After all, she's a woman and men are the cruel ones. Right?