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Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Our hero meets the first succubus

So there in lied the rub, or lack of a rub actually. I needed a woman, and not in a purely physical sense, but in a sense of completeness, two parts to a whole kind of thing. Now I am so self centered I won't even buy a house plant (water yourself...) but I thought the saving grace, what I needed to stabilize me or bring me in to the human fold, was a relationship. After all, if someone loved me, how fucked up could I possibly be. (See extremely in the dictionary)

I got a job in a hospital during the day as an orderly and tended bar at night. My sobriety lasted a couple of weeks when one day at the hospital I'm standing in the elevator when a high school volunteer got on the same floor. She was Hispanic, eighteen and beautiful. I was done. Desperation made me bold and I asked her out. For some strange reason she agreed, and here it is 28 years later and I'm still paying her child support. If she had just gotten on another floor...who am I kidding, it would have been someone else...and I would have taken them hostage because they didn't love me "enough" or "in the right way" or (wait for it...here it comes...) "they didn't understand me." To think I used to believe my own shit.

At any rate, we went to a dance and I drank without a second thought. At the time I needed it, so I thought, what I did not need were her parent's walking in to my apartment, (small towns...doors unlocked) the morning after her deflowering and telling us both, still in bed, it was time for her to go to school. That was a little surreal, and it also sealed my fate. I couldn't have gotten away from them if I tried. And I did.

After my shift at the bar I would be invited to parties and I would attend, meet some nubile young honey and begin the chatting up process when there would be a knock at the door. It was her, having driven all over town looking for my car, then following the sound of a party, and she would find me, like a fucking bloodhound, every time.

I even moved back to Dallas to try to get away from her, and she showed up one day at the bar where I was working on lower Greenville. She moved in and off we went, until one day after I had been gone for three days, if I remember correctly, acid (that would be LSD for you folks in Park Cities) and a lot of alcohol contributed to that, I came home and she was apparently out looking for me. I locked the door and passed out on the couch.

She came home, having forgotten her key and pounded on the door. And pounded some more. I never budged. Until she broke a window and crawled in the apartment, retrieved a pistol I kept in the bedroom and woke me while sitting on my chest with the barrel screwed into my forehead. She was pissed.

I talked the gun out of her hand and our daughter was conceived next to the couch on a blood stained, green shag rug. What...you were expecting Love Story?

1 comment:

Jim Green said...

Damn man. After reading this story as well as your others, your life sounds like mine only I did all that before I got married.

Unfortunately, I got a love child out of the mess (who eventually found me two years ago and whom I've only spoken to by phone) I made of my life using drugs and getting shitfaced all through college in the 70's.

Thank god for time and age. My demons are behind me now thanks to my wife of 25 years, without my feeling the need to resort to religion and luckily without killing somebody. I hope you've exorcised yours as well.

I'm also from Texas. Makes me wonder if there isn't something in our blood or heritage that makes so many of us so fucking wild, reckless and irresponsible as youths.

My new disclaimer...yeah I know.

Okay, the old disclaimer was tired. The ideas were outdated and keeping me stuck in a place I don't want to be anymore...so now for something more refreshing.

I have recently changed my views regarding women. Seems I had some issues with the fairer sex due to past pain and self- centered fear. (Yes...duh applies.)

I'm done with that.

Being in recovery has helped me change my entire life, perceptions and attitudes. I cannot change my history but I can change my today and my future.

I recently realized that the women I know in recovery are some of the strongest, bravest, most gentle and kind teachers I have ever had. You exemplify integrity and spiritual growth, and I hope you know who you are.

Some may know of my past marital and relationship history and been a participant in them as well. It's past and that's where it stays...in the past.

I own my part in those failures but claim no more responsibility in any misery you may be experiencing. I am sorry, but it's time to get off the cross. We need the wood.


Thank you all...