SEPTEMBER 1975, the lost years, Age 25 cassie

Gaye was shocked at some of the stories I told her about women.  First I explained how my high school acne problems had doomed me to ten years of failure with women, the phenomenon I refer to as the Epic Losing Streak.

"My word, Rick, if you didn't have bad luck with women, you wouldn't have any luck at all.  Fortunately, there is a silver lining to your failures.  At least you have a head start on analyzing your predicament."

"My problem is courage.  I cannot seem to make myself take a risk to save my soul.  If I see an attractive woman I would like to meet, I cannot make myself approach.  I have an overwhelming fear of rejection."

Gaye nodded.  "I know what you are saying.  We all have that problem, not just you.  However, your problem is more severe."

"My relationships with women my age are superficial.  I suppose I am attractive enough on the surface, but the moment a woman gets a closer look at my personality, they run for cover."

"Can you give me an example?"

I hesitated.  Should I tell her about Cassie?  She was a girl I met at Valhalla, the Rice Graduate students lounge where I had begun my brief romance with Celeste, Epic Victim #12.  Cassie came and went even faster than Celeste.  She was Victim #14.

"Unfortunately, yes I can.  Here is a recent story.  One night my loneliness got to me.  So I wandered over to graduate students lounge on the Rice campus."

"What were you doing at Rice?"

"I went to check out the new crop of Rice graduate students.  While I was there I met an attractive lady named Cassie.  She liked me a lot, enough to invite me to dinner at her apartment.  I ended up spending the night.  For our next date, I asked her to meet me at the movie theater.  Then I insisted she pay for her own movie ticket.  I mean, isn't that what women want, a man who shows respect by letting a woman meet him halfway?"

Gaye shook her head in disagreement.  "I would question that.  In early dating situations, most women prefer the traditional rules unless they state otherwise.  So what happened?"

"Cassie cooperated at first, but turned to ice as the evening progressed.  I made such an issue out of having her drive herself and pay for herself that I offended her.  We got into an argument after the movie and she went home in a huff.  I shrugged my shoulders and blew her off.  Another one bites the dust.  I will never see Cassie again."

Gaye glared at me for a moment, then shook her head in bewilderment.  Finally she spoke up.

"Rick, you have a job, yes?  So why are you being so cheap?  And how about a little gratitude for good measure?  Cassie made the first move to invite you to dinner.  Then she prepared an awesome meal complete with wine.  Did it dawn on you that it cost her considerable money to buy the food and purchase the bottle of wine?  And what about the time involved preparing the meal?  Cassie clearly liked you or she would not have gone to so much trouble.  Then she invited you to spend the night.

Now, would it hurt for you to reciprocate?  The decent thing to do would be to repay her with some kindness of your own.  You could offer to pick her up, drive her to the movie, and pay for her ticket.  If she insisted on paying for her ticket, that's up to her, but you should at least try to show appreciation for that wonderful meal.  Whatever happened to give and take?  It sounds to me like all you do is 'take'.  Isn't it time to quit being so selfish?  Try thinking about other people for a change."

I stared at Gaye with an open mouth.  I was stunned.  Speechless too.  When Gaye put it like that, I agreed with her on the spot.  Of course she was right.  What the hell was wrong with me?  That is what I mean by 'Blind Spots'.  Gaye's point of view had never occurred to me, but they made complete sense now that I thought about it.  It made me sick to think how poorly I had behaved.  The Cassie story was a good example why I never got past Second Base.  My selfishness and insensitivity doomed me to failure. 

Gaye had a special way of chewing me out without offending me too much.  That was her gift.  She possessed some sort of magic that allowed her to criticize me without making me pull back.  Yes, of course I bristled.  A lot of what she said hurt and embarrassed me.  A good example was the Cassie story.  Gaye had shocked me with her reply, but that confrontation was exactly what I needed.  Fortunately I trusted Gaye, so I let down my guard and listened to everything she had to say even when it hurt to listen. 

"Rick, I am pretty sure your porcupine personality is a defense mechanism.  Why let any woman get close to you when you automatically assume she is going to reject you anyway?"

I was embarrassed to admit that Gaye had me pegged on that point.  Now that I was getting the long-awaited education on women I had needed, Gaye was dragging me over my barriers.   

"You know, Rick, when I first met you, you were not very easy to like.  My initial opinion was that you are a bitter, sarcastic, self-centered jerk.  However, as I get to know you, I realize that deep down you are a decent guy with a strong sense of values.  In my opinion, if any woman can somehow get to that tender side of you, you are a real keeper.  However, a woman would have to work hard to find your nice side.  What kind of woman has that kind of patience?  Or let me say this another way.  If a woman knew there is a nice guy lurking inside there somewhere, she might take a chance on you.  But since you never show that side, why should she invest any time to begin with?  It is easier just to brush you off."

I thought of Katie.  She had been able to reach the soft side of me with no effort.  That is what made her so special.  I became the person I wanted to be when I was around her.  Now I was deeply afraid I would never find another woman who touched me quite like Katie.  Given my doubt that  I would ever find another girl like her, I could not bear the memory of my failure to ask her out.  I was barely able to avoid breaking out in tears.

Gaye could see I was struggling, so in a gentle voice she said, "Okay, Rick, admit it, you knew better than to pull that stunt with Cassie.  You aggravated her on purpose."

Looking down at the floor in shame, I shook my head.  "I wouldn't say I did it deliberately, but I suppose I was testing her."

"You were afraid she might like you."

Without making eye contact, I nodded in agreement.  "I didn't want Cassie.  I wanted Katie back."

"I don't know what to do about you.  I have never met anyone with more talent and less confidence in all my life."

SEPTEMBER 1975, Age 25, the lost years TED WEISGAL

I finally had the guts to admit the truth.  I wanted Katie back so much that it was useless to think about dating other women until I tried to locate her.  Still burning over my mistake of walking away from her, I longed for a second chance.  Since I didn't have Katie's phone number or know where she worked, I wondered if perhaps she would take another Sundry School dance class.  So I picked up a catalogue.  I noticed a Sundry School class covering Disco Line Dances had already started a week ago in mid-September.

Hoping against hope, I decided to sign up just in case Katie might be taking that class.  Rather than mail in my registration, I took the unusual step of driving all the way across town to the University of Houston campus to enroll in person.  I had my reasons.

A man named Ted Weisgal was the only person in the Sundry School office.  Ted was a tall, gangly man with red hair and a ruddy complexion.  Since we were the same age, it was not difficult to strike up a conversation. 

Needing a favor, I tried to get on Ted's good side by asking him questions about the Sundry School.  Ted was a frumpy, grumpy, disheveled guy who was short in the charm department.  He reminded me of Strelnikov, the relentless revolutionary in Doctor Zhivago.  Ultra-serious, Ted offered the shortest possible answers to my questions.  However, I was on a mission, so I continued to interview him.  That is how I learned Ted had personally created the Sundry School in 1974.  Whoa!  This surprised me.  At first glance I would have never guessed that Ted was the boss.  However, as we talked, I changed my mind.  Ted meant business. 

Seeing I wasn't getting anywhere with the small talk, I decided to make my pitch.  I asked Ted if he would look up the name and phone number of a lady named Katie from the summer Ballroom dance class that ended last month.  I explained why it was important, but it did no good.  The moment Ted frowned, I knew he was not about to hand out a woman's personal information to a stranger.  Of course Ted was doing the right thing, but I was disappointed nonetheless.  Oh well, it was worth a try.  Convinced Ted wasn't the type to budge easily, I quietly handed Ted my September registration and left.  Feeling a keen sense of disappointment, I consoled myself with the thought that maybe Katie was already taking the Disco class I had just enrolled in. 

As for Ted, he had made a striking impression due to his intensity.  I did not know it at the time, but our paths would cross again.  Ted would one day play a major role in the success of my future dance studio. 

SEPTEMBER 1975, the lost years Becky

When I arrived for my Sundry School Line Dance class, Katie was nowhere in sight.  Despite my disappointment, I was pleased to discover my Alice in Wonderland search for Katie had led me to a new fantasy girl.  Becky was the dance instructor.  She looked like a cheerleader, a guess which turned out to be correct.  Becky was my age, hotter than a firecracker and built like a Centerfold.  With Katie it had been love at first sight, with Becky it was lust at first sight.  

No, Becky did not make me forget Katie.  I would remember Katie as long as I lived.  Katie was immortal, unforgettable.  However, I had no choice but to move on.  It turned out that Becky was a good teacher.  Even though I started in the third week, I had no trouble picking up her patterns because she explained them well. 

Becky was 5' 5", blonde, very pretty, amazing body.  Every curve was so perfect, I never took my eyes off her.  In addition to being a former cheerleader, Becky was very athletic. When she danced, Becky turned into a super-hot Go-Go girl.  Her animated way of moving took my breath away. 

Since Becky was the sexiest female dancer I had ever seen, I had trouble concentrating.  Lost in a dream world of impure fantasies, there were times when I paid no attention to what I was supposed to be doing.  I would start out watching her feet, then I would lose track and watched how she moved instead.  Becky would notice me standing there drooling and remind me to start dancing again.  I sometimes wondered if Becky knew why I had stopped dancing.  If so, she never let on.  My guess is Becky was used to stopping men in their tracks.

Six months had passed since Manimal's attack at the Farmhouse.  Although the past six months had not been a happy time for me, I can at least say my life had become more or less normal.  During this time nothing that could be called 'Supernatural' had taken place.  Wait, let me amend that.  In Hindsight, I believe there was something about Katie that struck me as Fate.  However it would be years before I realized the significance.  What I am saying is that there were no eyebrow-raising coincidences necessary to maintain my preoccupation with Fate.  Preoccupied with my Rock Bottom depression, my current interest in Mysticism was at low ebb.

Despite my dark mood, at least my interest in dancing was still hanging around.  One year ago, I thought I was meant to take dance classes because God wanted me to.  However, once I vanquished the River Oaks Seven earlier this year, I figured I had fulfilled my duty.  At this point, the only reason I kept taking classes was to meet girls.  Although my adventures with Celeste and Katie had turned out poorly, I recognized dance classes had played a major part in meeting them.  In a sense, my time with both women had confirmed the dance advice offered in the Mistress Book was sound indeed.  So even though Black Jack had resurrected the Phobia by ruining my chances with Katie at Melody Lane, dance classes had become a hobby at this point.  Although I kept taking classes, it was no big deal.  As I hinted earlier, I would have quit on the spot if the right woman came along.  Someone like Becky for example.

October 1975, the lost years Godzilla

From the moment I met Gaye in September, she became a constant fixture in my life.  Gaye was every bit as important to me as Mark had once been.  However, Mark was more the listener while Gaye was outspoken.  Each week I rolled my eyes in anticipation of what she would chew me out about this time.  Virtually every story I told her upset her in some way or another.  One day in October I made Gaye furious.  As I walked in Gaye's office, I was still seething over a woman who had called me a 'total asshole'.  I wanted Gaye's sympathy, but got the worst chewing out of my life instead. 

Gaye raised an eyebrow.  "This woman called you an asshole?"

"No, Gaye, she called me a 'total asshole'!"

"Okay, here we go again, let's hear it.  What did you do this time?"

I did not like the skeptical tone in Gaye's voice.  Feeling defensive, I replied, "What makes you think I did something wrong?"

"Because you have a lousy track record, that's why.  All right, tell me the story.  I will give you my verdict at the end."

"Someone in the Child Welfare Department decided to sponsor an outdoor volleyball league for the social workers and support personnel.  It was a nice idea, but they made a mistake."

"What was their mistake?"

"They decided to keep score."

"Why is that a problem?"

"They decided there would be league standings complete with a playoff for the league championship.  Standings?  Playoff?  Championship?  Those are the sort of words that elicit my competitive streak."

"Are you a good volleyball player?"

"Yes, I am a very good player.  The problem is I only have one eye.  My left eye is a prosthesis made of hard plastic."

"I did not know that.  I have noticed the pupils in your eyes don't always match, but didn't think anything of it.  How did you lose your eye?"

After explaining my childhood accident and how it kept me out of competitive sports in high school, I added that volleyball was a sport where having only one eye was only a minor problem.  Football and basketball risk blind-side collisions, but not volleyball. 

"When I first learned to play volleyball a year ago, I was pleased to discover my blind eye was not really an issue.  Whenever I am getting ready to spike, all I have to do is keep my one good eye on the ball until I smash it.  Unfortunately a couple days ago I discovered why it would really help to have two eyes like everyone else."

"What happened?"

"I was pretty excited to find the Department was sponsoring this volleyball league.  Well, well, what do we have here?  The teams were chosen at random.  We submitted our names and were assigned a team.  Since Child Welfare is 67% female, I imagined there would be extra women on both teams.  My hope was to impress some of the women with my volleyball skill.  Maybe I could use my ability to start a conversation after the game and see where things went from there."

"So you were looking to use your skill at volleyball to find a girlfriend."

"Exactly.  This volleyball trick had worked with Rachel and Celeste, so third time's a charm.  Sure enough, when I showed up for our first game, my team had five women and only two men.  The other team also had five women and two men.  I did not know any of these people.  They were all from different units.  When I saw ten women, all of whom appeared to be single, I decided this was the perfect opportunity to put on a show."

"Okay, I see where you are going with this.  Please continue."

"No one at work had the slightest idea I played volleyball.  I had never had any reason to say a word about it.  Consequently no one had any idea how good I was.  We had just gotten started.  Early in the very first game, a player from the other team lobbed a hanging duck over the net.  This was my big chance.  I jumped high and slammed the ball back as hard as I could.  Unfortunately the ball hit some poor girl named Shannon square in the chest.   Shannon keeled over backwards like a cannonball hit her."

"Oh my God, that's terrible!  Did you hit her deliberately?" 

"Of course not!  I wouldn't dream of hitting a girl, but I have no peripheral vision.  Due to my blind eye, I lack the ability to look for openings before smashing the ball.  As a result I never have any idea where the ball will land.  All I can do is keep my eye on the ball, then smash it to smithereens.  I was mortified when I saw what happened."

"Was the woman hurt?"

"Not permanently, but yes, at first she was in a lot of pain.  As Shannon lay there gasping for breath, everyone screamed in horror.  The shock of seeing her fall so fast was scary for everyone, me included.   Fortunately Shannon wasn't hurt badly.  She just had the wind knocked out of her.  Plus she was frightened.  Once Shannon was okay, she sat up and shook the cobwebs out.  That's when everyone turned on me.  They angrily chewed me out for hurting her.  I wasn't happy about hitting Shannon, but they didn't need to jump on me like that.  Couldn't they see it was an accident?"

"Did you apologize to Shannon?"

"I was about to apologize, but they never gave me a chance.  I am telling you, Gaye, it was not my fault.  I play volleyball all the time.  People are supposed to keep their hands up when I hit the ball.  How was I supposed to know some girl didn't know how to play?  If Shannon didn't know how to play, what did she sign up for?"

"So did you apologize or didn't you?"

"I never got the chance because Shannon left in the middle of the big argument.  Once she was gone, her teammates turned their wrath on me even more.  I got angry.  Their anger had the wrong effect on me.  I reacted with defiance and shouted back at them."

Gaye frowned.  "So they ganged up on you.  I can see why you were upset.  However, before you continue, I have a question.  Did anyone know about your blind eye?"

"No, of course not.  How was I supposed to explain something like that with everyone yelling at me?"

"All right, I see your point.  So what did you say?"

"I said, 'Look, you're blaming me unfairly.  I am sorry I hit Shannon, but I didn't do it on purpose.  It isn't my fault Shannon didn't put her hands up.  I hit the ball hard because that is how volleyball is played.'"

"And what did they say?"

"One woman said, 'Oh, look, girls, here is a big strong brute who likes to hurt women.'  Another woman said, 'This guy is a regular Godzilla.'"

"Oh my!  And what did you say?  Please tell me you had the sense to shut up."

"Well, sort of.  Everyone was angry and some of those women said some very hurtful things.  I had no idea how easy it was for their taunts to get under my skin.  I was seething mad, but I couldn't argue with all of them.  So I retorted, 'Are you women going to yell at me for the rest of the day or do you want to finish the game?"

At that point, the game resumed, but I was still angry, very angry.  I did not appreciate being chewed out so publicly.  Who the hell are these women to scold me and call me names?  Previously, I was just playing to win.  Now I decided to bring Morlock back to life."

Gaye put up her hand to interrupt.  "Who is Morlock?"

I laughed.  "Morlock is my name for the Beast within, sort of like the Hulk.  The next chance I got, I hit another rocket.  Fortunately, this time the ball hit the ground with a thud, but everyone got the message.  Sure enough, the girls screamed.  From that point on, the girls covered their faces in terror whenever I prepared to hit the ball.  Other women just turned their back.  It took a while, but once they started to cower, I eased up.  No one else got hurt."

"Was that the end of it?"

"No.  The other guy on my team wasn't very good and neither were the girls.  Once I realized how weak my teammates were, I decided the only way my team was going to win was for me to take over.  Hey, they were keeping score, so I had every right to play to win.  I took every ball within reach whether it was my ball or not.  A couple times I collided with a girl in the process, but don't worry, I said I was sorry."

"Did you knock the girls down?"

"No, they just sort of bounced off of me."

"Oh, yeah, in that case it didn't count."

I almost said something, but realized it was a waste of time.  Gaye was clearly not on my side.

When Gaye realized I had clammed up, she resumed.   "So what about that asshole comment?" 

"She said 'Total asshole'."

"Okay, 'total asshole.'"

"After the game was over, some girl called me a jerk.  I replied, 'Hey, lady, if you are afraid to play volleyball, then maybe you need to go back to hopscotch and tiddlywinks.'  That's when a different woman called me a 'total asshole'.  I seethed at the slap.  I didn't hit Shannon on purpose.  Furthermore I eased up after I saw how frightened everyone was.  As I have said over and over, criticism and I don't get along.  I have stewed over that insult for days."

Now I looked to Gaye for vindication.  If anyone would understand, it would be Gaye.  No such luck.  When Gaye heard the full story, she shook her head in disgust. 

"I'm sorry, Rick, but you might be too tough a nut for me to crack.  There isn't much hope for you, is there?"

The way she said it, I wasn't sure if Gaye was kidding or serious.  When no smile crossed her face, I realized she was serious.  So I crossed my arms and frowned.  "All right, Gaye, let's have it.  What did I do wrong this time?"

"There are times when being competitive is appropriate and there are times when being considerate is more appropriate.  You should know the difference.  Why did you behave like such a barbarian?"

"I wanted to show everyone how good I was.  I wanted to impress some girl with my athletic ability.  After all, that's how I got Rachel and Celeste interested in me.  I didn't want to be a monster, but once they started needling me about picking on women and calling me Godzilla, I wanted to punish them for chewing me out." 

"You are sadly misguided.  The kind of women I respect are not attracted to bullies.  Even though your team won, you alienated every person on both sides of the court with your behavior.  You would have been better served by showing your defensive skills.  Judging by what you have told me, that should have been good enough to win the game and win friends in the process.  Furthermore, have you ever heard of a concept called 'sportsmanship'?  From now on, stop pushing girls out of the way!  Earth to Rick, girls want to play too whether they are any good or not.  You should respect their right to play.  Do you hear me?"

Holy smokes, Gaye was really angry.  This was not 'therapist' Gaye, this was personal.  Pinned back on my heels, I said nothing.

"Rick, tell me something.  Was it worth it?  That kind of behavior isn't going to win you any friends.  You should understand that these young ladies were basically defenseless.  They are amateur players and you scared them.  That makes you a bully.  Is that what you want people to think about you?  They don't admire you, they despise you.  What do you expect them to say when you scare them like that?  At some point, you need to let go of all this anger and let some of your warmth show through."

Now I was mad too.  Raising my voice, I couldn't take it anymore.  "I don't agree.  I had every right to play to win."

"Rick Archer, when are you ever going to learn that sometimes being kind is more important than being right?"

Uh oh.  That hurt.  I felt like I just been punched between the eyes.  As my defiance drained out, I turned pale and my shoulders sank.  When Gaye put it like that, there wasn't much I could say in my defense.  Gaye could see the effect her words had on me.  She sighed and sat back in her chair.  Once she got comfortable, she eyed me with a bemused look.  Realizing I had no choice but to respond, I reluctantly gave in.

"Okay, I see your point.  I was wrong, I admit it.  If I see that girl again, I will apologize."

"And you promise to adjust your game to your level of competition?"

"Yeah, I guess so, if you insist.  But we might lose a game."

Seeing Gaye's eyes grow wide with indignation, I put my hands up in surrender.

"Calm down, I'm just teasing."

Gaye shook her head in mock despair.  But at least I saw the hint of a smile.  

"What am I going to do with you?" 

"Am I still your favorite nutcase?" 

"Hell no!  You are a serious pain in the ass."  Then she smiled.  "Seriously, Rick, you should know better.  You have the thickest shell around you I have ever seen.  There is little hope for you, but we should try anyway."

I breathed with relief.  Thank goodness Gaye had forgiven me.  But not for long.  Gaye's smile suddenly disappeared.  She sat up in her seat and frowned.  Gaye paused to make sure she had my full attention, then proceeded to let me have it with both barrels.

"I want you to listen to me and I want you to listen carefully.  In my career, I have never met anyone with such a bizarre combination of great talent and low self-esteem.  Never!!  If I can help you learn to believe in yourself, I think you might really accomplish something in this world.  But it isn't going to be easy.  You are a very complicated guy and you hurt yourself in so many ways.  You come across to women as cold and tough.  We have to find a way to get you past this destructive behavior."

Gaye's words struck home.  I knew I had a good heart.  But I was also a hard, tough kid.  Right now I was getting meaner, not friendlier, during this Lost period of my life.  When Gaye pointed out how cold I was becoming, it scared me.  Gaye was right, it was difficult for anyone to see my good side.  Most of the time I just wandered around wondering why nobody liked me.  Now I knew the answer.  Throwing temper tantrums on the volleyball court was certainly no way to make friends.  I was my own worst enemy.