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Rick Archer's Note:
Victoria was
high as a kite. Her upcoming
Christmas Party at the Pistachio Club was shaping up to be
the event of the century. In addition I had just promised to include
her in my private dance lessons with Glen Hunsucker.
I had known for some time that Victoria longed to perform in
front of all her admirers at the studio. Now that Glen
had appeared, Victoria had sugar plum visions of Disco performances in her
dreams. She was convinced Glen was the answer to
her burning ambition. And, like her idol Scarlett, Victoria was
used to getting what she wanted.
Victoria
was thrilled to discover her
group of friends from the Friday private class were hooked
on Disco. Every Friday night in November the whole gang
would drive from Stevens of Hollywood over to the Pistachio
Club for an hour or so of friendship and dancing.
Not only had Victoria accomplished her dream of creating an entire
new group of friends, soon she would thrill them on the
dance floor. She could not be happier.
And me? I
was miserable. I was being out-classed by Victoria and
bullied by Patricia.
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THURSDAY,
NOVEMBER 23, 1978
THANKSGIVING FROM HELL
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Thanksgiving
1978 was the worst Thanksgiving of my life.
Despite the
lousy way she treated me, Patricia actually liked me
a little. One day she let it slip that I was the most
interesting guy she had met in a long time. Now that I
think of it, maybe that wasn't a compliment. So far Patricia had spent
November sizing me up for husband
potential. No doubt Patricia
wondered how a man like me was going to help her raise a family
on a dance teacher's salary.
Patricia was
materialistic. She was also realistic. With her
looks, refinement and education, Patricia expected to land a wealthy guy.
Country clubs don't come cheap. Neither do private
schools and mansions. Patricia dreamed big.
As well she should. Patricia knew her
market value. She did not spell it out for
me, but I knew she intended to marry rich. Patricia
dropped hints she wouldn't mind marrying a lawyer at every
opportunity. However, tired of seeing me refuse to budge, Patricia
eventually stopped being subtle. It was time to bring out the
sledgehammer.
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Patricia told me I
needed to reconsider this dance plan if we were to have any
future. Those words
stung, but she clearly had a point. I was excited to make $15 an hour teaching a dance class while
Patricia was planning to buy a house in posh River Oaks and put three
genetically-gifted children into an exclusive private school
like St. John's. The gap between our two positions was
roughly equivalent to the distance to the moon.
Given my vow of
poverty, I wondered why Patricia continued to keep me around. I could not help but
think this woman was more than slightly out of my price range. I had always wanted to date a girl the
caliber of my female St. John's classmates, but now I wasn't so sure.
I was getting an object lesson in why they say be careful what
you ask for.
Patricia had not
gotten anywhere trying to bully me, so one night she
turned on the charm.
"Rick, honey, with your
education, you could easily get into law school. Things did not work out in graduate
school for a reason. You have the wrong personality to be
a therapist, but you have the perfect personality to be a
lawyer. You would make a great lawyer. You have an
incredible memory and can keep all sorts of facts straight.
You are analytical and you are aggressive. You can
argue with the best of them and hold your own. For
those reasons, I wish you would seriously consider my idea.
Let's put your talent to the best use and plan a life together."
Patricia made a very
persuasive argument. There was only one problem. I
could not have cared less about becoming a lawyer. I hated
crooked lawyers and I had little respect for our absurd
legal system where no one wins but the lawyers. As for the
country club and the mansion, those were her dreams, not mine.
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However, I knew
better than to come right out and say it was impossible, so I
said I would think it over. In my heart, I was mad at
myself. I was not very enthusiastic about this
relationship to begin with, so why not just tell her the truth and get
it
over with? What a shame I was too stupid to follow my own
advice. As punishment, I would pay a heavy
price for my unwillingness to level with Patricia. Since
she actually believed she had a chance to persuade me to
consider Law School, Patricia decided to give it her best shot.
Back when I first met
Patricia, she asked if I would like to visit her
parents in the Texas Hill Country for Thanksgiving. I accepted without
hesitation.
Then came the torrential downpour of disappointment to put a damper on this
relationship. Now that Patricia had discovered I came nowhere
near meeting her socioeconomic criteria, I prayed she would rescind the
offer. No such luck. I was supremely
irritated when Patricia reminded me of my Thanksgiving
promise. Damn it! Considering I already had one foot
out the Exit Door, she reeled me back just in time. I stared at her
ruefully to see if this was her cruel joke of some sort. Nope, she
was serious. Due
to the tension between us, I really did not want to go. However, a
promise is a promise, so I reluctantly acquiesced. No
doubt Patricia wanted a second opinion on my
unsuitability. I fully expected her parent's Poverty
Alarm would go off the moment I crossed their threshold.
I am so stupid!! I never saw it coming.
If I had a brain, it might have dawned on me that Patricia was
up to something. Patricia drove a fancy sports car and I
drove
a used Volkswagen Beetle, so she insisted we take her car.
No argument from me. Her car was clearly
the superior choice for the long trip. This put Patricia in the driver's
seat in more ways
than one. Ten minutes
into the trip, Patricia began to indoctrinate me into her vision
of my future. Law school, make partner, get rich, marry
her as my reward. What more could a boy dream for? I began to squirm, but what
could I do? I was trapped.
For the entire three
hour trip, I was captive audience to her sermon. When
Patricia wasn't
lecturing on the benefits of law school, she brow-beat me over my
foolish dance dreams. All kinds of bitterness
rose to the surface as Patricia scolded me for wasting my elite
St. Johns-Johns Hopkins education on something so frivolous as
dance. I had never met a woman quite like Patricia.
Once she unleashed her pit bull personality, I had no idea how
to fend off her dominance. Instead I just sat
there and suffered under her withering salvos.
Patricia was very
thorough. The River Oaks Seven from four years ago had touched on
my feelings of inadequacy regarding Social Elite.
During the trip Patricia pounded on that same
raw nerve time and again. Peering into all corners of my
psyche, Patricia dredged up every insecurity about growing up
poor and feeling inferior to rich people. For three
hours Patricia delivered the single worst tongue-lashing I
ever
received in my life. Unsure how to get Patricia to back
off, I shriveled and cowered before her fury. I was defenseless as she picked me apart with that razor-sharp mind of
hers. I have never handled criticism well, so this
assault left me
reeling. Part of the problem was that I knew she was
right. I realized my dance job garnered little respect in
the minds of aspiring mates. I had seen it before, so
there were times even I had my doubts about the wisdom of
clinging to a path for which I had so little talent. At
first it was just my dance ability I questioned, but ever since
Victoria came along now I questioned my business sense as well.
In other words, since I was already a house divided, this made
me easy prey for Patricia's criticism. In hindsight, I
should have promised to go to law school just to shut her up,
then ditched her when we got home. Too bad the ruse never
occurred to me.
The tension made the
trip seem to last forever. By the time we reached the Hill
Country,
I was utterly humiliated.
In the dark mood I was in, I dreaded meeting her parents. That said, I
was impressed with their house. Patricia's parents
lived in a beautiful home high up in the hills. Her house
sat
on a
wooded lot that provided plenty of privacy while offering a gorgeous view
of the extensive valley below. Now I saw where
Patricia got her taste for the Good Life. If she wanted a
home like this for her own, no wonder she was so disappointed in me. But
what was the point of beating me into submission? What had
she accomplished with that barrage?
Patricia's
father was a retired Admiral in the
Navy who carried himself with
great dignity. He was a formal, taciturn man who seemed
unlikely to tolerate silliness. I could not help but
note how his commanding presence reminded me of his sharp-minded daughter. There were no chinks in
his armor, that's for sure. I quickly decided to behave
myself. No jokes, no kidding, no sarcasm, no arguments.
There went my entire personality.
Patricia and her
mother found something to do in the kitchen. That left the two of us alone
in the living room. Oh, lucky me. I gathered this one-on-one had been
planned in advance by the women. However, based on the
non-conversation that ensued, they had forgotten to tell
Patricia's father. I expected another third degree,
but her father had no interest in
me. My guess is he took one look and sized me up as the
longest of long shots, so why bother. We proceeded to talk for the next hour about absolutely
nothing beyond the weather and the fortunes of his
beloved Dallas Cowboy
football team who were scheduled to play today. I asked
questions to get him
to talk about life in the Navy, but he did not answer past one
word responses. Then I recalled that Roger Staubach,
quarterback of the Dallas Cowboys, was a graduate of the Naval Academy.
Bingo. Roger Staubach turned out to be the Admiral's
personal hero, so the man actually warmed up a little.
Score one point for the visiting team. Other than that, the conversation was
so superficial that I felt distinctly unwelcome.
Patricia's mother
was better. She was very nice to me. However,
despite her polite and gracious demeanor, I imagined
she and her husband
had their secret thumbs pointed downward the entire time.
No doubt the parents agreed I was beneath their daughter. Feeling
like a loser, my spirits were badly damaged and I resented being here.
Thank goodness for the Dallas Cowboy football game on TV.
It was the only thing I had
to pass the time. Patricia came and joined us. I was surprised
when she sat close to me on the couch. Her presence made me
so uncomfortable it took every ounce
of willpower not to get up and go sit in the nearby empty chair.
What I really wanted to do was strangle the woman. Patricia was
so insensitive I doubt it ever dawned on her how badly she had
devastated me with her criticism during the drive.
After the game, we
had dinner. As I expected, the
evening dinner was
formal. Look at me, I even wore a coat and tie. Sad
memories of Francesca and the Golf Clothing incident were
responsible for this small improvement. I tried to be friendly, but got
nowhere. Due to my unwanted presence, there
was next to no conversation beyond tepid pleasantries. The four of us ate in
relative silence. I was so miserable I barely touched my
meal. Over desert, Patricia's mother shocked me by asking
what I did for a living. Seeing Patricia pale at the
thought of having her father hear me talk about Disco which I
assumed he despised, I switched to the Child Welfare job instead.
Patricia's mother was very interested and asked several
questions. It was the highlight of my day.
The original plan
was to spend the night, but that changed. Over coffee at the end of the meal, Patricia told a
giant fib about an urgent
project at work. What a shame, but this project was so important Patricia would be forced
to
drive back following dinner. What utter nonsense. I was surprised at the
sudden change of plans, but had no objections. In fact, I
was thrilled. No doubt Patricia had received her parents' verdict, so let's proceed to the execution.
Why prolong the misery another day?
I fully expected Patricia would hand me my
walking papers on the way home. In fact, I looked forward
to it. That way I could start to enjoy my life again.
To be honest, Patricia's spell over me was finally broken. After the beating I
had received on
the way up, I could care less how beautiful she was.
I recalled the myth of how the temptress Circe had turned Greek
sailors into swine. Patricia had done something similar to
me. Reduced to a nervous wreck, I could not imagine spending another moment with this shrew.
As we
were about to get in the car, Patricia asked if I would like to drive
her expensive sports car. Her suggestion confused
me. Why? What for? A peace offering of
sorts? I shrugged and said okay.
However, the moment I got into the driver's seat of her valuable
car, Patricia ordered me to be careful. After the
brow-beating I had received on the way up, I instantly cringed.
How many times do I have to say I do not handle criticism well?
I was so tense I suddenly lost confidence in my ability to
drive. How crazy is that? Although I had been driving a
stick shift for the past 12 years, under Patricia's harsh scrutiny I got very rattled. I could not do anything right. Even though my VW
Beetle used standard gears, I could not get the hang of Patricia's
tight gear shift. I jammed the gears on
Patricia's car a couple times. Patricia shrieked as
the grinding metal gears of her precious car screeched in protest. I got
the car in gear on the third try, but panicked and
let the clutch out too fast. The car lurched forward
violently, then stalled.
Patricia was livid.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Rick!? Have you forgotten how to drive!?"
After restarting the car and getting
it in gear, I was so tense
I was shaking. Patricia did not ease up. She
needled me as I pulled out of the driveway, then continued
the onslaught as I
drove down the hill. I was so distracted
by her barrage of criticism that I ran the stop sign at the
bottom of the hill. It was dark and I never saw it.
Instead I went straight through the
intersection at full speed. Patricia let out a blood-curdling scream and I hit the brakes in
panic. The car came to a jarring stop right in the middle of the
intersection and stalled out for the second time. Helpless
in the middle of the street, I
frantically spun my head in every direction for fear of
oncoming traffic. Thank goodness it was
11 pm at night. It was so late there were no cars on the road in this sleepy neighborhood.
So there we were stalled in the middle of the intersection
thanks to my dangerous mistake.
Patricia was seething mad.
"You
goddamn idiot!
You just ran a fucking stop sign! You could have killed us!"
I felt
overwhelmingly futile as
Patricia berated me for running the stop sign and stalling her
precious car yet again. This was not a well-lit
neighborhood. As befitting its status, the wealthy
denizens had opted for a paucity of street lights. The
extreme darkness was part of the problem and the rest was the
intense distraction. I had not seen the
stop sign because Patricia had been yelling at me
from the moment we pulled out from her home. Right now I was so miserable I
just wanted to curl up and die. I was stunned at the ability of this
woman to intimidate me. I was also fed up. I
wordlessly got out
of the car and went to the other side.
I opened the door for Patricia and pointed to the
steering wheel. Patricia figured it out.
We returned to Houston in silence.
Three complete hours passed without a word. At first I was surprised she said nothing.
Why waste another golden opportunity to humiliate me further?
But then I changed my mind. Her silence could only mean
one thing. Now that her parent's verdict had confirmed her
own conclusion, I was no longer worth the effort. I
concluded Patricia planned to break up with me when we reached
her apartment. Good.
Let me be perfectly
honest... I appreciated the silence on the way home.
Another word about law school
and I would have strangled the woman. Just kidding.
On second thought, maybe not.
What a bitch!!
The last time I had hated a woman this much was Vanessa.
For
180 miles I asked myself over and over again
what I saw in this banshee. As always, two words popped up.
Beauty. Potential.
Well, that Potential
better kick in soon or I'm out of here, Beauty Queen or not.
Oh, to hell with it, why wait?? As we pulled into
Patricia's parking lot at 2 am, I was finished. As I exited her car,
I decided to skip the kiss. I would say goodnight, leave
quietly and never call again. I had just begun to walk away
when Patricia asked
me to stop. I turned to stare at her. Now what?
Patricia shocked me...
SHOCKED ME... by asking me to stay.
I stared at her in total confusion. Did I hear her correctly??
Patricia read my mind and
nodded. In a very low voice, she said, "Yes, you heard me correctly. I want you to
spend the night."
I was incredulous.
How many times must I remind the Reader that I do not understand women.
However, I am not sure even a particularly astute man could have
seen this coming. What possible reason
could explain her request?
"Patricia, I will stay if you want me
to, but only on one
condition. Would you mind explaining your change of heart?
This has not been our finest day."
Patricia had the
saddest smile on her face.
She looked away, took a deep breath, then let out an enormous sigh.
After staring out in the distance for a short while, she
turned back to face me.
"I know,
Rick. I know that you are unhappy. I know I
have been hard on you today and I feel pretty guilty about that.
To answer your question, my mother liked you. She said of all the
men I have brought home for inspection, you had a spark about you.
She said you had a good heart. I thought about that on the way
home. My mother is right. You do have a good heart. I
think that is what I see in you that I can't seem to let go
of. Sometimes I wish I could be a nicer person. Besides, I hate to give up. That is just not my
style. No matter how much you infuriate me, I keep
thinking we could make this work."
I was completely
floored by her candor. That statement was quite a surprise. I
never had the slightest clue her mother had a positive opinion of me.
If so, then Patricia's mother definitely knew how to keep her cards to herself.
Then I remembered this was a military family. Loose lips
sink ships. I was impressed by what Patricia said.
Patricia was usually very formal, very private like her father. She
didn't open up very often, so it must have taken a real effort
to admit she had feelings for me. With great
reluctance, I agreed to spend the
night. However, we didn't touch.
In the morning over
coffee we
talked some more. I told Patricia I was not sure staying
together was a good idea. However, I secretly questioned
my preference to move on. While we spoke at her kitchen
table, I thought it over.
I took note of my miserable track record in relationships.
I was embarrassed to note I had so few girlfriends that I could
count them all on two hands. Sad to say, I took full
responsibility. Not only were my relationships few and far
between, they were short-lived in duration. Due to my serious
personality issues, historically women did not last very long. Arlene
held the record at nine months. Then came Nancy at eight weeks.
Vanessa seven weeks. Celeste one month. Sarah one month. Patricia one
month. Emily back in college three weeks. Jenny three weeks.
Karen two weeks. Rachel ten days. 10 girlfriends in
14 years since freshman year in high school. Not much of a
track record.
One reason for the
short duration was my preference to deal with anxiety by heading
for the Exit Door the moment things went south. Maybe for
once in my life, I should give it a second try. After all,
look at all that Potential. With a heavy heart, I responded with a flicker of wishful thinking thanks
to Patricia's honest request to start over. The way I saw
it, if Patricia and I
broke up, what made me think
I would do any better with the next woman? That was a
powerful reason to give Patricia a second chance.
Considering our 'Vast Potential', if she was willing to try
again, shouldn't I meet her halfway? I assumed that every
couple had issues they had to work through. Yes, Patricia had her dark side, but didn't
everyone? Maybe the time had come to see if we could work
through our differences rather than take the easy way out.
With more time, perhaps we could come to an understanding on my career
issue. Noting that
Patricia was conciliatory this morning, I agreed to
continue the relationship. Then I left. I needed
sanctuary in the worst way.
As I drove home, I
thought back to Celeste from 1975. Celeste had dominated me
like no other woman during her Phoney Baloney
Dance Studio nonsense. Then I remembered how Vanessa had
dominated me as well. And what about Victoria? Don't
get me started on Victoria, I've got other chapters for that. Patricia had exploited my lack of assertiveness during our
Thanksgiving trip. Although
I had made giant strides over the years at dealing with women,
it was clear I needed to grow a backbone. Otherwise Patricia would continue to walk over me like she had
during our trip.
This had been the Thanksgiving
from Hell. Our relationship was hanging on by a
thread.
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Wednesday,
NOVEMBER 29
Candace gray
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They say that Beauty is skin deep. Is that
true? How would I know. Given my limited
experience with women, I was ignorant about a lot of
things.
According to my
favorite book, Autobiography of a Yogi, we are
put in the Material World to learn lessons. Right
now the Universe was trying to teach me lessons about the
powerful effect of Beauty on men.
Unfortunately, I wasn't catching on very fast.
So the Universe sent a Messenger
to offer a different perspective.
It was the last
Wednesday in November, six days after that horrible
Thanksgiving brouhaha. Due to traffic, I was running
late to the dance studio. Everyone was abuzz when I
walked in. There was so much electricity in the room,
I wondered what the fuss was about. That is when I
saw an incredibly beautiful woman holding court in the
center of the dance floor. I froze on the spot and my
heart began to beat wildly. Who on earth is that woman
and what is she doing here?
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Her name was
Candace Gray. Someone whispered that Candace had been
the winner of the 1976 Miss Texas contest two years earlier.
One look at her and I didn't doubt it for a moment.
Then I noticed something else. Candace and Patricia
could have been sisters. The moment I noticed the
similarity, I went on Mysticism Alert. What is going on
here?
Candace was a
truly beautiful woman. And what a smile!
Gosh, I almost fell apart on the spot. I barely kept
it together long enough to begin class. I wasn't
alone. No one could concentrate. Everyone stared
at Candace, ladies included.
I had to meet
her, so I used the same trick I had used with Patricia.
I put on some music and told everyone to practice and warm
up. Exercising my power as the teacher, I made sure I
was the first to ask Candace to dance. The moment I
held her in my arms, I trembled. Indeed, I was so
overcome by her beauty my knees actually buckled.
That had never happened before. Fortunately, since
this was 'My Stage', I still had enough confidence to
speak while we danced.
Treating her like a visiting dignitary, I began with a
compliment.
"Candace, you are a
very accomplished dancer! So what exactly are you doing
here?"
Candace laughed.
"Please forgive me, I did not realize I would disrupt your
class like this. My college roommate Betsy is taking
your class. I dropped by for a visit earlier this
evening and Betsy said come take this class with her.
I was curious, so I came along. I love to dance.
Back in college, they called me 'Candace Candance'.
They teased me with 'Can Candace Candance Candidly Dance
the Can Can?' Try saying it fast!"
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Surprised by her
dare, I repeated the jingle. But I was way too nervous
to get it right, so I botched it badly. Candace
laughed with delight at my discomfort. No doubt she
was used to men being flustered in her presence.
Candace smiled sympathetically.
"Don't feel
bad, Rick, no one else gets it either. You came
closer than most."
Yeah, right. In reality I
flubbed it badly, so Candace had just fibbed. However,
I knew she had done it for my sake. I could
not believe Candace Candance had gone out of her way to allow me to
retain my dignity. In that moment I fell deeply in
love. Barely suppressing a powerful desire to ask her to
marry me, I anxiously tried to think of ways to prolong the
conversation. Anything to be granted 30 more precious
seconds in the presence of this sweet lady, maybe even an
entire minute.
"Good grief,
Candace, that's quite a tongue-twister. Out of
curiosity, do you actually know how to dance the Can Can?"
"Why, yes,
if you will permit me to stutter, I
can can do the can can and I can can also th-th-thank
you for asking. In fact, I am pleased to say
Candace can do the can can
rather well. We had a school play called An
American in Paris
and I was the lead can can dancer. I did quite well if you don't mind my
saying."
"Is that where
your clever phrase from?"
Seeing my huge
grin Candace replied, "Of course! Where else do you suppose that goofy
phrase came from? Due to my powers of
concentration, I was able to overcome a serious amount of
teasing during the play."
Candace laughed
at the memory, then gave me a mischievous look. "By
the way, I tried to sneak into your class tonight, but
somehow you caught me. What sharp eyes you have.
How did you ever notice me in such a crowd? Do I owe you any money?"
If I did not
know better, Candace was borderline flirting with me.
Oh gosh, be still my beating
heart and don't let me faint. My nerves were badly out of control, but I
still managed to reply.
"Uh no, Candace
Candance, you have nothing to worry about. Out of professional courtesy, I cannot take money
from a Can Can expert. But you do seem kind of thin,
so it's probably due to some stupid diet you're on. As
a favor to me, please use the money you saved tonight to purchase a good meal."
Candace actually
cracked up. With a big laugh, she exclaimed, "Oh, no,
you have guessed my private agony!" Then she added ruefully, "How did you know I've been dieting?
It's killing me! Dieting is the everlasting curse of my
life. Sometimes I would trade my crown for a
hamburger."
As we shared a
smile, I commented, "What a shame a
beautiful woman like you has to suffer so. Do you ever
wish you could eat whatever you want and lead a normal
life?"
"You have no
idea. I think about it all the time."
Candace enjoyed
our brief banter. She gave me
a funny little smile, then impulsively squeezed my hand.
She also held my hand a bit longer than necessary. Or
maybe that was just my wishful thinking. I
interpreted her gesture not as an invitation, but rather
as her way to let me know she liked me. Unfortunately,
her
gesture sent me into instant paralysis. Ensnared in her magic
aura, I was lost in some sort of dumbfounded coma.
Fortunately Candace revived me.
"By the way,
Rick, the song is over. Am I keeping you from your class?"
Actually, she
was. Candace had triggered the Venus Effect. I suppose
Candace was used to seeing men go brain dead in her presence.
Guessing that I was unable to
part from her of my own accord, she had awakened me for my own
good. I think women like Candace understand the power
they hold over men. Although it broke my heart to
leave her, I turned around and got back to work. Our
three-minute encounter had been a charming moment. I was delighted
to find that Candace was every bit as fun and sweet as she
was beautiful. That night Candace tried her best to dance with every
man in class. Whenever I told people to switch
partners, I made sure to stay close so I could observe. Fully aware of the effect her beauty had
on everyone near her, Candace remained modest nonetheless.
I watched as she went out of her way to make every trembling man feel at ease. What a sweetheart! I was touched
by how generous Candace was with her compliments.
Candace's visit
deeply unsettled me. It seemed so odd for her to beam down
from Olympus to dance among mere mortals. For one thing,
this lovely woman had no business coming to my class.
Candace said she did it on a whim. I suppose Candace was
just passing through Houston and came with Betsy for the heck of
it.
Did her visit have anything to do with my
ongoing preoccupation with 'Fate'? Maybe, maybe
not. Candace touched me
so deeply I could not shake the feeling she had been sent here
for some Cosmic purpose. I wondered if Candace was a Messenger. If so, what was her message?
At the time, I was overwhelmingly blinded by Patricia's
considerable beauty. In a very dramatic way, Candace had
demonstrated that a beautiful woman does not have to be a
shrew. Candace struck me as a kind and loving person.
Thanks to her, I learned a lovely woman can be beautiful on the inside
and outside as well.
On a personal
note, I had passed a major test. Why was I a dance
teacher? Because long ago a weird book gave me a viable way to overcome my crippling inability to
approach an attractive woman, much less to speak to her.
With a smile, I remembered what had persuaded me. "The fastest-known polite way to get a woman you
don't know into your arms is ask her to dance."
Not only had I
used my dance skill to gain her attention, I was able to
make Candace smile and laugh. It did my pride a world
of good to charm her even if for one brief moment.
Thanks to this tangible proof of progress, I received
further validation that my unusual Dance Path had healed me
in oh so many ways. Although I still had much to
learn, this special moment reassured me I was on the right path.
Of course I fell
in love. How could I not? Candace was so classy.
I admired how she went out of her way to be nice to people. That is what I loved about her.
I had never seen anyone radiate so much warmth.
Her kind nature enhanced her Beauty dramatically. In
fact, she reminded me a lot of Katie, my lost love from
three years earlier. Women like Katie and Candace made
the world a better place.
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As I drove to
Patricia's apartment after class, I meditated on Beauty and
its implications. I waited for Patricia to fall asleep,
then sat up and took a long, hard look at her. Patricia was a
serious beauty in her own right. She could easily hold
a candle to Candace. It was uncanny how closely the
two women resembled each other. But the similarity
ended there. The stark contrast of Candace and her
good nature exposed Patricia's flaws in a way that made me
feel very sad. Candace was
warm-hearted and humble, Patricia was haughty and
cold-hearted. Candace complimented, Patricia
criticized. The difference could not be more
striking.
It was a tough
pill to swallow knowing a woman with beauty comparable to Patricia could
also be sensitive and kind to others. The warmth and grace of
Candace forced me to admit Patricia was not a very nice
person. For that matter, she probably never would be.
It hurt to realize how unrealistic my dreams for Patricia
were.
As I dealt with
my keen disappointment, I thought of Katie, the one who got
away. Patricia was no Katie, that was for sure.
I ached as I remembered Katie and her gentle nature.
What a terrible shame I met Katie at a time when I was not
ready for her. And Jenny. What a woman she was.
Now there was Candace, one of the nicest women I had
ever met. What I wouldn't give to have a woman like
Candace beside me.
Instead I was
stuck with this cold-hearted, self-centered woman lying beside me. It was my own
damn fault. If I had just told her the truth that I
would never give up my dance job, I would not be stuck in
this god awful charade. But I had promised to try
again, so with a sigh I resigned myself to keep my end of the bargain.
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It saddened me to
comprehend the axiom 'Beauty is skin deep' with such
startling clarity. Candace possessed a radiance, an inner beauty Patricia would never approach. For the first time, I
realized that Patricia and I were total opposites in one
important way. While I wanted very much to contribute to
the world and find a way to spread joy, Patricia was
not prone to lift a finger for her fellow man. Her mind
was far too preoccupied with how big her house would be someday.
So why, I asked
myself, did I stick around? I was not happy with my
answer, but I knew it was true. Beauty. A
woman's Beauty holds far too much power over men. I
knew Patricia had serious shortcomings, but I had tried to
overlook them. To me, her beauty made Patricia
something special, one in a million. However, the
Iliad, Homer's
story about Helen of Troy, warned of the heartache caused
by the pursuit of Beauty. Now I had a Helen of Troy of
my very own. Lot of good it did me. Did I really want
to pay the heavy price that came from hanging on to this
imperious beauty?
After meeting
Candace, I wanted to leave Patricia in the worst way.
But I stayed. I was mystified by the hold that
Patricia's cold beauty had on me. Why do men make such
fools of themselves even when they know better? What
drug rendered me so helpless? The myth of the Goddess
Circe who turned men to swine was very prominent in my thoughts
that night.
I had no idea
why men become so weak around beautiful women, but I
certainly knew the feeling. I had learned that lesson
with Nancy, but now it was even worse. At least I had
been able to turn my back on Nancy. Not so with
Patricia. I knew that Patricia was
not good for me. Nor was I in love with her. But
for the life of me, I could not force myself to walk away.
Her beauty was so magnetic, I felt like I was trapped under some kind of spell.
I knew someday I
would have to leave her, but for now I was going to stay.
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As sad
footnote to this story, two years after meeting Candace, I
was shocked to hear this lovely woman had died. A
freak scuba diving accident in Cozumel, Mexico, claimed her
life.
Candace was only
25 years old. What a terrible shame. As I read
the story of Candace's tragedy, I felt a huge regret.
I had never met a more graceful and gracious woman in my
life. Why would God take away a woman who had so much
to give?
During our brief
encounter, Candace had a spirit that touched me deeply.
There was something unusually kind and good about her.
Candace had demonstrated there is no reason why a beautiful
woman cannot also be warm and generous.
Her strange Fate
reminded me of Achilles, the hero who achieved fame in the
Trojan War only to die at a young age. When it comes
to Fate, we never know. I have long been haunted by
her memory. What a wonderful woman.
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