SUBCHAPTER 263 - FATE COMES KNOCKING

A few days after the fiasco with Gloria and her son Rick, another unusual situation took place.  It was now early November.  I had finally figured out why the presence of the River Oaks women bothered me so much.  These women represented the same girls I had gone to school with at St. John's, only older.  They made me keenly aware that someday I wanted to pursue a woman who was a match for my St. John's classmates... smart, beautiful, poised.  The problem was that I felt so completely inferior to the River Oaks Seven, why even bother dreaming like this?  I was not equal to the St. John's girls when we went to school together, so what made me think I would ever become their equal?   It was one in a million that a woman comparable to the SJS girls would take an interest in me.  Let's face it, women like the St. John's girls were totally out of my league.  I would have to undergo a vast improvement, but that was unlikely.  At the moment, I was not making any progress with women period.  Ever since my bad experience with Yolanda in July, I had avoided girls my age completely.  Instead I just wandered around feeling sorry for myself.  I played a lot of basketball, shot a lot of pool and practiced dancing in a mirror at night.  Pretty impressive self-improvement strategy, right?

The entire point of my Dance Project was to use Dancing as a way to find a girlfriend.  Unfortunately my despair was growing because I was still stuck with my unsolvable Dilemma.  This Dilemma involved my refusal to go out dancing until I was a good dancer, but I failed to make progress because I never went out dancing.  Since my entire dating fantasy hinged upon my ability to become a terrific dancer, this dance strategy wasn't working very well.  At this rate, I would be in my rocking chair by the time I finally got the hang of it.

I told Mark about how futile I felt.  "Good lord, Mark, I am worse than my Child Welfare clients.  I complain endlessly about my problems, but I do little to solve them."

"What is so hard about asking a girl to dance?  I ask men who are strangers to dance all the time.  19 out of 20 say yes.  Just go to a bar and go down the line till one says yes.  Heck, I would say yes if you asked me.  You are a good-looking guy.  My guess is most girls would be happy to take a chance on you.  It isn't like you are asking them out for a date, so what are you so scared of?  All you have to do is smile and be polite.  I am positive you will be rewarded."

"No, I'm not ready yet.  My dancing is just not good enough.  Those girls will take one look at me plodding around and break out laughing."

Mark shook his head in frustration.  There was no way to persuade me to take a chance.  Obviously the Universe was disgusted with me too because one night it took matters into its own hands.  Fed up with my paralysis, the Universe got impatient.  The moment I met Rachel, she had 'Fate' written all over her.  It was her job to tie me to a tree, then torture me. 

SUBCHAPTER 264 - THE VOLLEYBALL GODDESS

On a Thursday night in early November, I was astonished to see a beautiful woman warming up on the volleyball court.  My heart stopped.  What on earth is this young lady doing here?

As I stood there gaping at her beauty, Rachel noticed me.  To my surprise, she walked over to introduce herself.  I was stunned.  Rachel had totally bypassed my fear of rejection by making the first move.  Rachel reminded me of the time Vanessa had stopped me in the hallway of the Psychology Department a year ago.  Although I was a bit bewildered, I was grateful Rachel had initiated the conversation.  Otherwise in my condition I would have never made a move with a woman as beautiful as her.  And what a woman she was!  I was in love the moment I saw her.

Previously I had pegged my odds at a million to one that a woman comparable to the SJS girls would take an interest in me.  Now just such a woman had shown an interest me.  Although I was flabbergasted a woman of Rachel's caliber would approach me, I tried not to let it show.  I assumed Rachel had greeted me in such a friendly way because I was the only person her age. 

Rachel was tall, 5' 10".  She had long, dark brown hair tied in a pony tail.  And what a figure!  Rachel was built along the same hourglass dimensions as a Playboy Centerfold.  Noting that Rachel moved like a jaguar, she seemed unusually athletic.  Another thing that struck me was her poise.  Rachel had a regal, dignified air about her.  This woman could rule the world.  She was a true princess.  Standing before me was a St. John's clone if there ever was one.

I felt totally intimidated by Rachel.  She struck me as sophisticated and highly intelligent.  This young woman was equal part dream girl and worst nightmare.  I had no business pursuing a woman like her, but I could at least be polite.  Hiding my insecurity as best I could, I asked Rachel what she was doing here.  Rachel replied she liked volleyball and wanted to play with us.  I frowned.  There was something unusual going on here.  No other woman had ever asked to play with us.  For that matter, I had never even seen a woman down here.

I wondered what the older men would say.  The official title of the evening was 'Men's Recreational Volleyball'.  By definition, that excluded Rachel because she was a girl.  But oh, not just a girl, but rather a Goddess!  Rachel was Athena, Artemis and Aphrodite rolled into one.  Rachel was living proof that volleyball was the sport of choice up on Mount Olympus.

Even though Rachel was so far out of my league it was ridiculous, by an odd coincidence she had picked the one place on earth where I shined.  Although I had only been playing volleyball for five months, I was the star player due to my youth.  Since I was the only man who could actually jump, that gave me quite an advantage.  These days, I was used to being the center of attention.  Whoever had me on their team usually won.  Furthermore, I was modest about my ability, so the older men didn't seem to mind.   Consequently, as Rachel and I warmed up, I was greeted warmly by everyone.  Rachel took note of my standing and smiled. 

As I guessed, the older men had no idea what to do with Rachel.  If the decision had been mine, I would have told Rachel that she was more than welcome to participate.  However, since I was young and new to the group, when it came to decisions, I had no authority.  Rachel's fate was the call of the veteran players. 

Six men moved to the side to discuss the problem.  I sidled up to them and listened with keen interest.  My heart plummeted when two of the men grumbled loudly that this girl had no business being here.  I winced because Rachel might have overheard them.  I glanced at her, but she didn't react.  Hmm.  She had to have heard, but chose to ignore the argument.  Meanwhile the two grouches complained her presence was against the rules.  If they let her play, then no doubt a bunch of other women were sure to notice and join too.  This made me snicker because there was hardly an army of women clamoring to play.  Thank goodness Buddy took over.  Since Buddy was a natural leader, his word commanded a lot of respect.  Buddy took one look at Rachel and whistled low in appreciation. 

"What is wrong with you alter kockers?  Are you men out of your minds?  Have you taken a good look at that girl?  Maybe you old farts need to get your glasses checked.  I don't know about you, but I would pay money just to stand next to her.  Maybe she will bump into me and give an old man a thrill."

The two grouches turned red at being teased by Buddy, but the three undecided men chuckled and nodded in agreement.  The grouches lost this argument 4-2 and they weren't happy about it.

As for me, I had the sense to stay out of it, but I agreed with Buddy.  I would do anything to have this beauty bump into me too.  I longed for the chance to see Rachel in action.  I had a hunch about her. 

A really funny thing happened.  The two grouches grumbled that having a girl on their team was an enormous disadvantage.  So they stuck Rachel on my team since I was the best player.  In other words, in their opinion, having Rachel on my side would seriously handicap me.  They had decided to pit the old guys with their craft and cunning against the two kids.  I smiled.  Having Rachel next to me was the kind of handicap I would accept any day of the week.  However, I wasn't happy when they sent the four weakest players in the gym over to my side of the net as well. 

So they decided to stack the sides, eh?  Team Grouch was their idea of the Dream Team.  By sticking Team Rick with the four weakest players and a helpless woman, they were determined to put Rachel and me in our place.  It was Team Grouch versus Team Rick featuring the Kid, the Babe, and four afterthoughts.  This could be interesting.  Rachel was hiding something, I was sure of it.  Guess what?  I was right.  Rachel turned out to be better than every man on the court... including me.  Rachel was a sight to behold.  I had never seen a female athlete like her up close.  Although the other four men on our team weren't very good, it didn't matter.  Rachel and I played two-man volleyball... or whatever you want to call it.  'Husband and wife' would have suited me just fine.

Between the two of us, we got to every ball hit over the net.  Not only could Rachel set the ball beautifully, I discovered at her height she could spike the ball as well.  I had no idea a woman could hit a volleyball that hard.  I marveled at her leaping ability.  Even though we were playing on the higher men's net, Rachel timed her leap perfectly and smashed the ball just as hard as I did.  So we worked together.  Rachel set me, I hit a rocket.  I set Rachel, Rachel hit a rocket.  The old guys never knew what hit them.

Watching Rachel serve was a treat.  She reeled off the last 5 points of the game with her bullet serve.  Team Grouch was lucky just to get a hand on the ball.  The final score was 15-2.  So much for Dream Team Grouch.  They were so shocked, it took every ounce of my self-control not to laugh at their contorted expressions.  These guys were old school.  They had no idea a woman athlete could be this good.  Actually, I have to admit I didn't either, but at least I was open-minded to the possibility.  Rachel had taught us all a lesson. 

Buddy was the only one on Team Grouch who took the crushing defeat with dignity.  He came over and congratulated me for the big victory, then looked around for Rachel.  She was gone at the moment.  After the victory, she had turned her back and walked to the far corner of the gym to get a drink of water.  I had a hunch she left deliberately to avoid rubbing it in.  Interesting. 

While Rachel was gone, I listened to the men argue.  I grinned when I heard the chauvinists complain that the teams weren't fair.  No kidding.  What was their first clue?  I wondered what moves they would make.  To my surprise, Team Grouch demanded that I come over to their side and now they gave their worst player to the other team.  Now that they had me, the superstar, they were going teach this upstart girl a lesson.   I was actually very curious how this would work out.   It was Rachel and the Five Dwarfs against the Dream Team.  I was curious to see what would happen.  Rachel was a formidable opponent.  After observing her skill, I was not remotely in Rachel's league.  However, since they had stacked the sides, I still expected to win.  Knowing how weak her teammates were, Rachel had her work cut out for her.  The men were embarrassed at their skullduggery, so when Rachel returned, they made me reveal the bad news to her.  Rachel just shrugged.  Seeing her confidence, I had a sudden bad feeling about this. 

Sure enough, now it was my turn to be embarrassed.   It was close, but Rachel's team won the next game.  Rachel was a one-woman wave of destruction.  She was so fast, she got to practically every ball by herself.  I had never seen anything like it.  Rachel had been playing at half-speed in the previous game.  Now that she had some real competition, she played harder.  Here was the neat thing about Rachel.  She encouraged her five men to simply get a hand on the ball and bop it up in the air somewhere, anything to keep the ball in play.  Then she would race to retrieve the ball and slug it back over the net.  She encouraged those guys in a way I had never seen before.  Rachel got those old men so fired up they played better than I had ever seen them.  I think that is what impressed me the most about her.  Rachel was a true leader who made the people around her better.

Since Rachel's team had no offense, she got most of her team's points using her serve.  No one could get a hand on her bullet serve, including me.  I had never seen anyone hit the ball so hard, male or female.  To my dismay, Rachel also blocked two of my spikes, a feat which ruffled my feathers considerably.  I stared at her in consternation.  Who is this woman??  Rachel made her point... girls have athletic ability too.  I was not the only one who was in awe.  Buddy decided to speak up. 

"Young lady, I have never seen a woman play like you do.  You are amazing.  Would you mind explaining where you learned to play like that?"

With everyone watching, Rachel blushed a little.  "I played volleyball on a team in Israel."  Rachel left it at that.  Instantly the men's faces changed.  The moment they realized Rachel was an Israeli Jew, their transformation was fascinating.  Suddenly the men didn't care anymore that they had been shown up by a girl.   The Yom Kippur War of 1973 had taken place one year earlier.  That conflict had shown that a small nation working as a team could hold their own against a half-dozen Arab countries determined to annihilate them. 

These men had taken great pride in Israel's victory, so now they began to show respect.  I was pleased to see them act like the nice guys I knew them to be.  They welcomed Rachel and praised her talent.  In turn, Rachel dropped her sabra warrior demeanor and became charming.  She started teasing the guys in a fun way.  Rachel took advantage of her youth to flirt shamelessly with all the guys, making them laugh.  Even the two old grouches warmed up.  By the evening's end, Rachel had everyone in a good mood.  Buddy asked Rachel to marry him and she promised to seriously consider it.  I considered asking her to marry me too.  What a woman.

For the remainder of the night, Rachel eased up and played at half-speed.  In so doing, Rachel avoided embarrassing anyone.  After the last game was over, I was determined to find out why Rachel was so good.  Certain that Rachel was hiding something, I wasted no time walking over to her.  "So, Rachel, how did you come to be here tonight?"

Rachel pointed to the bleachers, so we went over and sat down. 

"I am an Israeli citizen, but my parents are of German descent.  I consider myself half-German, half-Israeli.  My parents insisted I go to college in Germany, partly because the universities are so good and partly for my safety.  At the moment, I am taking a year off from college in Stuttgart to travel through America.  My father has many relatives and business contacts in America, so I never lack for a place to stay.  Right now I am staying with one of my uncles."

"Welcome to America.  How long will you be here?"

"I will be in America till Christmas time, but I will only be in Houston for ten more days.  I am leaving for Austin next."

When Rachel said that, I did a double-take.  Her reply reminded me of the time Vanessa said she would be leaving for Portland when we first met.  In addition to the forwardness with which Rachel had approached me earlier, this unexpected time limit was another reason she reminded me of Vanessa.  Then of course her looks reminded me of Vanessa as well.  Rachel was quite a beauty.

I did not want Rachel to leave the gym until I learned her secret.  Rachel was hiding something, I was sure of it.  Curious about her amazing athletic ability, I peppered her with questions.  Rachel laughed mischievously and repeated her line that volleyball was her favorite sport back in high school.  Frowning, I said, "Come on, Rachel, you are the finest female athlete I have ever met.  Your superiority is a dead giveaway.  Now tell me how you became so good at volleyball."

"There's no secret, Rick, I just played a lot in high school."

I gave her a dirty look and Rachel laughed.  Since Rachel seemed more than happy to talk to me, I continued my interrogation.  Rachel was evasive, but I finally got her to spill the beans.  

"Okay, okay, if you really want to know, I was an alternate on the 1972 Israeli National women's volleyball team.  I was not only given the finest coaching imaginable, I trained night and day for an entire year."

"So did you play in the Olympics?"

"No, I did not make the team.  I was the last girl cut and it broke my heart.  But of course those Munich games ended in tragedy, so maybe God had another plan for me.  I lost several friends to the Palestinians."

I was saddened by Rachel's reference to the tragedy, but at least her ability finally made sense.  This woman was an Olympic-caliber athlete.  No wonder she was so good.  Here in 1974, women athletes in America were not encouraged to play sports.  Consequently our American women were routinely dominated by superior Russian female athletes at every Olympics.  However, that was about to change thanks to progressive 1972 legislation known as 'Title IX'.  In years to come, American women would emerge as the finest female athletes on the planet.  Our girls would rule the world in sports such as basketball, volleyball, soccer, softball and gymnastics.  Thanks to Rachel, I had been given my first-ever look at what top-flight female athletes were capable of. 

Now I asked Rachel how she found us. 

"Since I have been traveling in America, I haven't played volleyball in a while.  When I dropped by the JCC earlier today to find the exercise room, I saw a brochure that said 'Men's open volleyball play' on Thursday night.  I couldn't pass up the chance to play my favorite sport, so I decided to ignore the word 'men' and drop by. 

"Rachel, why do I get the impression you have played this trick before?"

Rachel grinned mischievously. 

"You are so clever.  How did you guess?  Oh sure, I've done this two times previously on my trip, once in Chicago and once in New York.  It is a game with me.  I love to destroy people's expectations.  Unlike Israel, women athletes here in America are given no respect.  Everyone in America expects me to 'play like a girl'.  So every city I visit, I check out the local JCC to see if there is a volleyball game I can join.  I do it because I get a kick out of watching the men's bewildered reactions."

I asked Rachel if she resented the chauvinist attitude of some of tonight's men. 

Rachel laughed.  "Are you kidding, Rick?  That's what I live for.  Actually, your friends aren't so bad.  I've seen some real jerks, usually the younger Jewish guys who think God made men in His image, but took the day off when it came to women.  Sometimes I deliberately play poorly at the start just to set them up.  Eventually a ball comes floating over the net that I can hit.  I blast the ball back at them so hard they never knew what hit them.  You should see their faces.  Men can be so funny.  I love watching their faces turn to shock."

"You said the young guys are the worst.  So how did my attitude check out?"

"You did well.  I could tell from the start that you were on my side and I appreciated that.  Listen, give me your phone number and I'll give you mine.  Let's get together while I am in town."

Rachel's request was so totally unexpected it took me by surprise.  Although getting together had crossed my mind, there was no way in hell I was ever going to suggest it.  Now that she offered, of course I wanted to exchange numbers, but I felt very anxious.  I was mortal, Rachel was immortal.  Wouldn't I automatically go up in smoke if I kissed a Goddess?  I suddenly got so nervous, I was reluctant to give her my number.  In fact, I deliberately gave Rachel the wrong number.  Then at the last second, I changed my mind.  Pulling the piece of paper back, I exclaimed, "Oops, let me check that," and corrected the mistake.

Rachel made nothing of it.  She handed me her number, smiled, then said, "Shalom!"

SUBCHAPTER 265 - OUTWITTING FATE

The mysterious appearance of Rachel posed an unprecedented challenge in my life.  Knowing what I knew about myself, this remarkable young woman had no business showing interest in me.  This was the stuff of fairy tales.  Princess Rachel was sent here tonight by the Universe, I was sure of it.  Her appearance was just as strange and unsettling as the appearance of the River Oaks Seven in my class. 

Here I was avoiding women like the plague, yet out of nowhere the most superior woman I had ever met not only appeared on my doorstep, but showed interest in me.  This situation was so unusual it reminded me of the time I had met Prom Queen Cheryl at a rock concert.   Or for that matter my amazing meeting with Mrs. Ballantyne.  Considering I had concluded that Mrs. Ballantyne's intervention was something of a miracle, I had a similar feeling about Rachel.  Maybe I was wrong, but I was convinced forces beyond my control were intervening in my life again. 

As I drove home that night, I could not help but wonder how a young man in the midst of an Epic Losing Streak could attract the interest of an Olympic athlete who possessed the beauty of Venus, the intelligence of Athena, and the hourglass figure of a Centerfold. 

The obvious explanation for my lucky break was being in the right place at the right time.  By some small miracle, Rachel had met me in the only place on earth where I still had any confidence in myself.  Yes, I was a good athlete, but I think what really impressed Rachel was how much the older men liked me.  When Rachel noticed how the men put their stamp of approval on me, she took it to heart.

Rachel's interest shook me to the core of my being.  It forced me to take a good hard look at myself.  Given my low self-esteem, it might come as a surprise that deep down I believed in myself.  I knew I was smart.  I knew I had a good education.  I knew I was athletic.  And, if a girl did not mind the scars, I also knew I was attractive.  When I was at my best, I was a good match for Rachel.

But I was not at my best, was I?  Not hardly.  I actually felt a little sorry for Rachel.  It was Rachel's misfortune to meet me at the one place where I acted like the person I had the potential to be.  To be honest, Rachel had no idea that the Universe had tricked her into thinking I had something going for me.  Obviously the woman had no idea about this rough patch I was going through.  If Rachel had met me anywhere else but here at this volleyball court, she would have never given me the time of day. 

It helped that Rachel had been friendly to me throughout the night.  She had taken the time to compliment me on my best volleyball plays.  Feeling her respect, I was able to speak to Rachel like a normal guy, not the quivering milquetoast one would expect given my tormented past.  I had been supportive throughout, making sure she felt welcome despite some initial hostility.  Now Rachel wanted to see me again.  What should I do?

It is extremely important to understand that a dramatic shift had taken place in my consciousness.  I no longer saw the world as I once did.  Ever since the day I found the Courtesan book, some really strange things had taken place.  My car stalled at Yolanda's house.  I got picked up by a Drag Queen.  The River Oaks Seven created a life crisis.  The dance instructor propositioned me.  A voice suggested I buy a mirror to practice my dancing.  I had become the Gay Beauty Queen.  I met Gloria under bizarre circumstances.  When these incidents were grouped together, there was no doubt in my mind that some force far out of the ordinary was intervening in my life.  This line of thought explains why the moment Rachel asked me for my phone number, I was convinced she was my next Karmic test. 

Did I dare ask Rachel out?  Under ordinary circumstances, no red-blooded man would think twice.  However, I was spooked.  To me, Rachel's appearance felt like another 'tie me to a tree' test reminiscent of the River Oaks Seven.  Here on the one year anniversary of Vanessa's betrayal, I believed Rachel had been sent to challenge me.  In my mind, the Universe was handing me a pop quiz to see if I could handle things any better than I had with Vanessa.  Rachel reminded me of Vanessa so much it scared me.  If that was the case, then I was certain to end up getting hurt.  Considering the anguish caused by Vanessa and the River Oaks Seven, why should I voluntarily put my head in another noose?  On the other hand, if I walked away from this Goddess, would I ever forgive myself?

I spend Thursday night debating the issue.  Keep in mind that I was two people, the struggling young man with myriad problems and the person I had the potential to be.  In the past, I had gotten to First Base with Emily and Vanessa, two women close to Rachel's caliber.  However, once my demons and fears kicked in, I had folded badly both times.  That is what bothered me the most.  I fully expected to fold again.  Something was bound to go wrong, I just didn't know what.  All I knew was that I was bound to get hurt.  But what if I was wrong?  What if I was overly pessimistic?  I experienced a roller-coaster of emotions as my poor little heart seesawed between intense fear and powerful temptation.  Rachel's confidence was intimidating to say the least.  I had a sickening feeling that this young woman was light years beyond my dating skill.  Like Vanessa, she was sure to expose my weaknesses. 

As I drove to work on Friday morning, the debate continued.  I was in a quandary.   I was unbelievably tempted to call, but I could not make myself do it.  I was certain this woman was way over my head.  I had no business dating an Olympic-level volleyball athlete, much less a woman with her kind of looks.  To me, this was some sort of made-for-TV farce, The Princess and the Pauper.  My biggest fear was getting attached.  Did I have the power to let myself be close to this exquisite woman and remain intact once she left?  I remembered how seriously attached I had gotten to Vanessa.  If I lost my heart to Rachel in a similar way, I was looking at some serious heartache. 

No matter how things went, I would lose Rachel in ten days.  Even if things did work out, I doubted I had the ability to let go of her gracefully when it was time to leave.  I did not feel like I had the ability to guard my heart.  I was faced with the age-old question... Is it better to love and to lose than to never love at all?  

Of course my buddy Chip offered his opinion... 'He who hesitates is lost' and 'Faint heart never won fair maiden.'  Phobia had some choice words as well.  'This woman will break your heart.'  Phobia had the upper hand.  Convinced I was looking at a repeat of the Vanessa debacle, so I held back.  Since Rachel was only going to be here for ten days, why bother?  Why get attached only to see her move on?  It was so much easier to avoid Rachel than to risk a repeat of the Vanessa tragedy.  There was just too much similarity in these women. 

Later I began to rally.  Chip was coming on strong.  'All you ever do is complain about how lonely you are.  Try taking a risk for a change.  Isn't that what you tell your clients to do?  You know you have the ability to hang with this woman, so step up to the plate and take a swing.  You might surprise yourself and connect.'  But I could not make myself do it.  I was disgusted with my cowardice.  I had never hated myself more than I did now.  The Universe had just answered my prayers by dropping the most stunning woman imaginable into my lap.  Did I say 'thank you'?  Hell no!  Instead I just sat there trembling at my desk because I was too afraid of getting hurt again.  Try as I might, as I stared at the phone, my hands could not make the move.  As usual, I procrastinated.  I decided it was too early in the day.  I would call Rachel later on.  Chip had come close, but Phobia won this round. 

Friday afternoon I went over to Mark's office.  When I told Mark about meeting Rachel last night, he laughed.  "Sounds like you met your match, Rick.  Isn't this what you've been hoping for?  Why don't you ask her out?  What's stopping you?"

I told Mark how afraid I was.  Mark replied, "Don't be silly... she approached you.  She didn't have to offer you her phone number.  She wants you to call her.  The woman probably doesn't know a soul here in Houston that is her age.  Be a friend and give her a call.  Hey, that reminds me.  A bunch of my friends are going down to our secret hideaway on Galveston Beach tomorrow morning.  There's room in the car for the two of you.  Why don't you invite Rachel to come along?  We can swing by your apartment and pick you up."

My immediate reaction was panic.  Ask Rachel to join us?  No girl from a foreign country would dream of spending the day with a man she barely knew at a remote location like Galveston.  Too risky.  Furthermore, what would Rachel think of all these weird gay people?  She would probably feel very uncomfortable.  This was a really bad idea, but I didn't want to tell Mark that.

"I'll tell you what, Mark.  I would like to go to the beach with you and your friends, so let me give you my address.  As for Rachel, I will give it some more thought."

After I left Mark's office, I did not call Rachel.  Phobia had won Round Two.

That night I shot pool for three hours straight.  I was miserable as I obsessed about calling Rachel.  But I still couldn't make myself do it.  Why not admit the truth?  As I have pointed out repeatedly, Rachel had me really spooked.  Rachel's beauty, boldness and confidence reminded me too much of Vanessa and we all know how the Vanessa story turned out.  If I were to see Rachel, I believed it was my Fate to suffer the indignities of Vanessa all over again.  I was sure of it.  In particular, the fact that Rachel would be leaving soon was identical to Vanessa's Portland situation.  This was way too eerie!  The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that Fate was setting me up for more heartache.  I was certain that if I called Rachel, I would be walking into another trap. 

The thought of walking into a trap ended the debate.  Forget it.  My mind was made up.  I wasn't touching Rachel with a ten-foot pole.

I told myself I was going to avoid Rachel and outwit Fate!  

Phobia had won Round Three.  This woman is leaving in ten days.  To heck with Rachel.  I could live without her.  Indeed, Phobia was very proud of me.  'Smart move, Rick, avoid Rachel, that's what I say.  Avoid Rachel and live to shoot pool for another day!'

SUBCHAPTER 266 - THE GLADIATOR SALUTE

I slept fitfully Friday night.  The moment I awoke on Saturday morning, the first thing I did was stare at the phone.  I wanted so badly to call Rachel, but I was afraid.  Instantly the brutal civil war between Chip and Phobia resumed.  As the debate raged in my mind, I still could not force myself to call Rachel.  Suddenly the phone rang.  I was so startled I jumped out of my skin.  It's a good thing I slept on the floor or I would have definitely fallen out of bed.  Who could it be?  A bolt of fear shot through me.  Could it be Rachel?  No way!!  Girls don't call boys.  It had to be Mark calling, so I picked up the phone.

"Hello, is this Rick?  Good morning, this is Rachel!    Rick, I am so glad I caught you!  I have nothing to do today and I hoped you and I could get together."

No.  This is not happening.  This is the stuff of Twilight Zone.  I am dreaming.  This was unbelievable.  Simply unbelievable.  My heart started pounding with fear. 

I was so dizzy with the perfect timing of this call that I experienced something close to Vertigo.  The most beautiful girl on earth had just called me at the exact moment I had told myself to avoid her at all costs. 

Fate refused to let me off the hook!!  

Phobia screamed, 'Hang up the phone!' 

However, it was too late.  This was my dream girl calling, so now Chip held the upper hand.  Phobia would have to stand down.  With a heavy heart, I overcame my fears and told Rachel about the beach plan.  I gave her every reason to back out.  I warned her about the weird gay people.  I warned her the beach was far away, a covert hint that she would be stuck with me all day.  Rachel was impossible to discourage.  She enthusiastically accepted on the spot.   Please tell me this is not happening!  The most superior woman I had ever met in my life was DEMANDING to see me.  This made no sense whatsoever.  I had to be dreaming. 

Almost against my will, I gave Rachel directions to my apartment.  I ached the moment I put down the phone.  Here I was riddled with every insecurity known to man, yet the most confident woman on the planet was coming to see me.  Was Rachel completely fearless??  One part of me was pleased that Rachel was coming, but mostly I was totally intimidated.  Filled with foreboding, I could not shake the strangest sense that I was walking the plank to my doom.  My overriding attitude was that I was being sent to the executioner's block. 

Filled with dread as I awaited Rachel's arrival, Chip tried to cheer me up.  'Come on, Rick, don't be so gloomy.  Look how perfectly this is working out.  This is your fondest dream come true!' 

Indeed, it was so perfect it was surrealistic.  But the fear prevented me from enjoying it.  Rachel had refused to let me avoid this opportunity... and I knew the reason why.  This was meant to be.  No matter how big a screw up I was, this woman had been sent here by Fate to drag me kicking and screaming over my barriers of fear.  There is no escape.  I was tied to a tree.  That was the conclusion I came to.  There would be no escape because this connection was a Fated event and I had been given no choice in the matter.  A sense of dread came over me.  I knew I was going to fall in love and I knew I was going to get hurt. 

I was so ashamed of myself.  I shook my head in disgust.  I did not deserve this woman, not after fleeing in terror at the thought of calling her.  If Rachel only knew the truth about me, she would have never been this interested.  How I had fooled her was beyond understanding.  Oh well.  Que sera, sera.  Maybe I was wrong to worry.  Maybe things will work out.

Twenty minutes after her call, Rachel knocked on my door.  I smiled and welcomed her in.  When Rachel saw the pool table, her eyes lit up.  "Oh, Rick, a pool table!  I love billiards!  Let's play a game while we wait for your friends!"

Shades of Yolanda, Rachel immediately began trouncing me.  I had to laugh in spite of myself.  Since I practiced shooting pool endlessly due to my non-existent love life, I had hoped to impress her.  Now Rachel was beating me at this too.  I had a sneaking suspicion that Rachel would beat me at any game we tried.  Welcome to my life.

I was thrilled when Mark knocked on the door.  His arrival spared me any further embarrassment at this woman's hands.  Now it was time go.  If I wasn't so nervous, I would have laughed at my predicament.  My dignity was being assaulted at every turn.  I had a date with Athena and I was miserable. 

I felt overwhelmingly morbid.  I felt like the ancient gladiator who knew today would be the day.   As the trumpets of the Roman Arena blared in my mind, I whispered the Gladiator Salute, 'Morituri te salutamus!' 

'We who are about to die salute you!'

Rachel heard me whispering.  "Did you say something, Rick?"

"No, Rachel, it was nothing.  Let's go."

SUBCHAPTER 268 - GALVESTON

Galveston is an island 50 miles southeast of Houston.  Galveston Island is very thin and very long.  Its widest point is 3 miles, but there is 50 miles of beach.  At the far end, there are private stretches of beach.  Access is protected by locked gates which guard the narrow opening between tall sand dunes.  From what Mark told me, we were headed to one of these spots.  A friend had given him the key. 

There were five of us in the car and there was another car behind us with five more.  Mark drove with his common-law wife Mariah sitting beside him.  I had never met Mariah before, but I had heard about her.  I was surprised to see Mariah was unusually attractive.  Good grief.  Mariah was almost as good-looking as Rachel.  I made a mental note to ask Mark later what the story was with Mariah. 

Sharing the back was Rachel, me, and Randy, Mark's best friend.  Randy was really big.  So was I.  Sitting in the middle, Rachel was going to have to sit very close to one of us.  Rachel chose to snuggle up against me.  I didn't mind a bit.  Neither did Rachel.  I put my arm around her and she smiled.  I was almost certain I was dreaming.  But then I remembered the Debbie fiasco and I was hit with yet another huge bolt of déjà vu anxiety.  This was just too weird.  This was Rick's Greatest Hits Day!  Every single screw-up... Vanessa, Yolanda, Debbie... was being replayed before my eyes.  This was further evidence that I was living out a script spelled Doom. 

I barely said a word on the drive to Galveston.  For one thing, does a guy heading to his execution have much to say?  In addition, I decided the longer I kept my mouth shut, the longer it would take Rachel to realize how anxious I was.  Fortunately, Mark and Rachel did all the talking.  They really hit it off.  I quietly noted that Rachel was completely comfortable around my gay friends.  This woman wasn't afraid of anything, was she?  We were quite the couple... Fearless and Fearful.  While I trembled, Rachel laughed and smiled the entire trip.  What an extrovert!  Of course Mark was outgoing as well, so the two of them got along famously.  The car was filled with laughter.

Mark pulled up to a gate.  He got out and opened it.   A short road took us to a secluded section of the beach.  The place was deserted.  There was no one in sight as far as I could see.  Mark pointed to a lonely beach house and said a friend of his owned that house.  Mark added that we could use the house to change and use the restroom.  However, when Mark did not take a step towards the house, I had a feeling something was up.  Sure enough, Mark and his friends had played this game before.  Without any discussion, Mark, Mariah, Randy and four people from the other car removed their clothes and placed them back in the car.  To my shock, there were no swimsuits underneath.  No one had told me about this. 

With my mouth open wide enough for a seagull to lay eggs, the seven people headed out naked to the Gulf of Mexico.  There was a girl from the other car who looked just as surprised at the sight of everyone stripping as me.  She decided to enter the water with her swimsuit on.  That left Rachel and me.  Surely Rachel would be freaking out.  Wrong.  Without the slightest bit of inhibition, she casually shed her clothes.  

"Are you coming, Rick?"

I didn't move.  To be honest, I was in shock.  First of all, Rachel had the most beautiful body I had ever seen in my life.  Second, her boldness had a further chilling effect on me.  I was terrified of falling for her.  I had no business hanging with a woman like this.  No doubt she would expose my shortcomings quickly.  In fact, she had already begun with her unabashed nudity.  Trying not to stare too much, I told Rachel I had to go to the restroom and I would join her in a minute. 

As Rachel went ahead, I stood there frozen on the sand trying to catch my breath.  Rachel had reawakened every Vanessa-inspired insecurity in my psyche.  I told myself to settle down.  Now that I was alone, I was able to calm down enough to make a decision on the bathing suit.  The irony overwhelmed me... I could strip naked for those goofy gay men at my apartment project, but I was terrified of being naked in front of Rachel.  Not that I had anything to be ashamed of.  My face might be ripped to shreds, but my body was every bit as sculpted as Rachel's.  Unfortunately, some sort of modesty had me tied up in knots. 

Finally I had enough of my cowardice.  I stripped naked and headed out to the water.  Where was this girl?  I finally spotted her way down the beach far from the rest of the group.  Self-conscious about my nudity, I walked on the sand about 50 yards, then plunged into the water to meet her.  I was instantly rewarded... Rachel impatiently lunged into my arms.  We began kissing immediately.  My hands were given the delicious privilege of exploring every curve of the most beautiful body I had ever touched.  In a flash, we were both turned on.  Entering Rachel right there in the water, I was treated to the most exquisite passion of my life. 
 

In the eyes of a woman, in a world of desire
From the moment she looked my way, I was sooo hypnotized
Should I show how I feel?  She's the magnet, I'm steel!
The eyes of a woman, there's nowhere to run.

--  Eyes of a Woman, Steve Perry, Journey

SUBCHAPTER 269 - THE PERFECT WOMAN

Rachel was the perfect woman.  What was she doing with a flawed creature like me?  I was so convinced something was going to go wrong that every moment I was with Rachel, I kept looking over my shoulder for the problems to begin.  However, I need not have worried.  Despite my foreboding, things proceeded very well.  Following our return from the beach, Rachel spent the night.  We spent all Sunday together as well.  We had a wonderful hour-long talk over the phone on Monday evening and followed that with a date on Tuesday night.  After a movie, we went back to my place. 

On Wednesday morning, Rachel reminded me her next stop was Austin, Texas, and she would be leaving the following Monday.  I felt very sad.  As I feared, I had gotten far too attached.  It hurt so much to have feelings this strong knowing Rachel would be gone soon.  I felt like I could climb mountains and fight tigers bare-handed when she was with me.  However, when she was gone, my fear rushed back in.  Every waking moment my mind flipped from Rachel to Vanessa.  Back and forth.  Memories of Vanessa haunted me everywhere I turned.  I was a seething cauldron of fear, passion, terror, excitement.  Mostly I was dreading seeing Rachel leave next week.  I might go a lifetime and never meet a finer woman.  Of that I was convinced. 

Over the phone Wednesday night, I asked Rachel if she was planning to play volleyball again tomorrow night Thursday.  Rachel said no, her aunt and uncle were taking her to dinner.  Damn!  I had been counting on seeing her Thursday.  Hiding my disappointment as best I could, I asked what she wanted to do on Friday.  Rachel got quiet for a second, quite uncharacteristic.  I was immediately on guard.

Rachel said, "Rick, I have to tell you something.  I am seeing someone else on Friday.  I met a Rice University professor at a seminar my uncle took me to this afternoon.  Aaron and I have plans for Friday.  I hope you won't be upset." 

There was a hidden catch to her voice, I was sure of it.  Her reluctance to share this information left me very shaken.  However, I possessed enough self-control left to calmly make plans with Rachel for Saturday night instead.  I hung up the phone and abruptly fell to pieces.  I was consumed with a jealousy that knew no bounds.  My inner Othello erupted and I could not get the vision of Rachel in the arms of that Rice professor out of my mind.  This scenario was a brutal replay of the Vanessa-Kenny-Rick triangle.  The only difference was that Rachel didn't tell lies... she laid the painful truth out in front of me and let me deal with it. 

Recalling how quickly Rachel and I had become intimate, I assumed that Rachel intended to do the same with the professor.  A born pessimist, I didn't handle with this idea very well.  In fact, I didn't deal with it well at all.  Me and Sue and that guy too.  I descended into a dark, deep pool of bitter jealousy.  They say that jealousy is a sign of neurotic insecurity.  No argument from me on that.  I could not stop thinking about Rachel in that man's arms.  That vision tapped into a cesspool of unresolved hatred towards Vanessa and unleashed an overwhelming fury.  I was really angry at how helpless I felt.  I had warned myself not to get too attached to this woman, but it happened anyway against my will.  Now look what happened. 

I despised the fact that I was so incapable of guarding my heart.  I was bitter at my Fate.  Don't ask me why I knew, but my intuition had warned me something was going to go wrong.  Stupid me, I had gone ahead and given this woman my heart nonetheless.  What's worse, I did not have a choice.  No matter how much I warned myself not to care, it happened anyway.  Rachel's spell was too powerful.  Blind-sided in a very cruel way, I found myself dealing with jealousy that bordered on obsession.  I was actually frightened by how angry I felt.  My feelings were so strong that I could understand how a man could be driven to violence.  

Despite the intensity of my feelings, there was something at the back of my mind that was trying to get my attention.  There was something wrong about this situation.  I didn't have much experience with women, but I did know enough to be certain that Rachel really liked me.  Ordinarily, wouldn't a woman with so little time left in town want to spend her remaining time with the guy who made her happy?  What possible reason could Rachel have to play the field at the last minute? 

I had no answer to that question, but what I did have was the longest 72 hours of my life to think about it.  Thursday passed without Rachel.  Friday passed without Rachel.  Unable to sit still, I asked Mark's advice.  He said the best thing to do was get it out in the open.  Maybe nothing happened and I had worked myself into a tizzy needlessly.  I died a million deaths that night knowing Rachel was with that man.  I suffered through Saturday morning and afternoon with further anguish.  I was extremely emotional all day. 

Finally it was time to pick up Rachel at her uncle's home over in Meyerland, a spot not far from the Jewish Community Center.  I was a bundle of nerves over what to do.  I followed Mark's advice and began questioning Rachel the moment I picked her up.  It didn't take long to get my answer.  Rachel was not prone to fibbing.  The moment Rachel admitted she had slept with the professor, I went numb.  Then I exploded.  I could not control my feelings.  I went haywire with jealousy.  I pulled to the curb and threw a temper tantrum in the car. 

"How could you, Rachel!!?" I screamed.  "Do I mean nothing to you!?"

Rachel did not reply.  She got very quiet and let me rant.  I went on and on about her being unfaithful, making a fool of myself in the process.  Being with Rachel had made me feel so special.  Now that feeling was gone.  Knowing how easily Rachel had moved from my arms to a man with so much more prestige made me feel totally inadequate.  My jealousy was over the top because I was certain Rachel preferred this educated man to some dipshit failure like me.  Concluding I had lost Rachel to a better man, as always, I was unable to compete for the finest of women.  Confronted by this latest evidence of my inferiority, I felt sick inside. 

"Who is this guy?  What does he do?"

"Aaron is a history professor who specializes in American-Israeli relations.  He was in Jerusalem during last year's Arab-Israeli Yom Kippur War and spoke about his experiences at the seminar I went to.  I was in school in Germany at the time of the war and wanted to know more about what took place behind the scenes.  So I stayed afterwards to ask him questions.  Aaron is a very interesting man.  I don't know what else to say other than you are very important to me."

No doubt Aaron was more important than me, that's for sure.  I felt totally defeated.  Lowering my voice, I asked another question.  "Rachel, how can you sleep with two men at once so effortlessly?"

"Rick, please try to understand that I come from a different world than you.  In Europe and Israel, we have vastly different attitudes on sex.  Much different than the attitudes I have encountered here in America.  Where I come from, men understand not to be possessive.  In Israel, we face constant danger.  A person could be dead tomorrow.  Last year's war made that painfully clear.  So did the Olympic tragedy in Munich.  Over the years, I have lost several male friends I grew up with.  So we learn to live for today.  We love the one we are with.  I love being with you.  Can we still enjoy tonight?"

Ignoring her peace offering, I continued my questioning.  "How is it possible for you to love one man one night and someone else the next?  What if some man did that to you?  Don't you ever get jealous, Rachel?"

"Men sleep with several partners at once all the time.  They say it means nothing to them.  I have had men do the same thing to me.  Why is it okay for men to have as many women as they want?  Why are women denied the same right?   My rule is simple.  I like to have sex with men I am attracted to.  I am attracted to you, Rick.  Isn't that obvious?"

Rachel touched my hand.  I knew Rachel was trying to cheer me up, but it wasn't working.  I felt so hurt inside.  All my demons had been let out of their cages and they were running rampant in my brain.  I couldn't handle it.  Visions of this naked goddess screaming with passion as some handsome, highly-educated Rice professor made love to her tore my heart out.  The nausea in my stomach grew worse.

"Rachel, I don't always understand what is going on here in my life, but meeting you has brought back a lot of painful memories.  Exactly one year ago a woman I loved cheated on me.  Unlike you, she lied about it.  She behaved in such a cruel way that I still haven't recovered.  Intellectually I grasp that you have done nothing wrong.  You are forthright and honest and I respect you for that.   But I am so jealous right now I am shaking.  I don't think I am capable of sharing you with another man."

"I live by a simple rule.  Good people cannot be possessed and those who can be possessed, no one wants for long.  I strongly prefer to come and go as I please."

"That sounds like the motto of New Hampshire... 'live free or die.'  You make love sound like shackles.  In the animal kingdom, animals are loyal by nature.  It is only humans who question the value of emotional ties.  The way I see it, it is natural to become attached to the people you care for and make love to.  Otherwise there would be a lot of children without parents."

"Well said.  You might be surprised to know I agree with you in theory.  However, at this stage of my life, I am learning about men.  If I were to settle on one, the experiment would be over."

"The problem with that attitude is that lab animals don't get to vote when they are getting wired up.  Note to Rachel, you might try warning your next victim."

That wisecrack hurt her.  Rachel was human after all.  I saw tears welling in her eyes.  Now I felt guilty for speaking my mind.  I was really upset.  My lips pursed and my eyes stared straight ahead.  I didn't dare look at Rachel for fear of bursting out into tears and further humiliating myself.  Inside my emotions remained a firestorm of bitterness and raging jealousy.

In a quiet whisper, Rachel resumed the conversation.  "This girl, Rick, she lied to you?  And she hurt you?"

"Yes, and I really haven't been the same since.  Every day is a struggle and right now I hate myself for yelling at you.  I can't seem to control my feelings."

"You are a moody person, yes?"

"How did you guess?"

Rachel smiled wanly.  She had become very pale.  "I am not as young as you think.  Sometimes when men lose their temper, they are able to get over it.  Is that you?"

I laughed in spite of myself.  "No, Rachel, probably not.  When I get worked up like this, I've never been able to shake it off."

Rachel nodded.  "I was afraid of that."

She sensed the hopelessness in me.  Guessing there was no way I was going to snap out of this dark mood, I suppose Rachel realized this situation could not be rescued.  "Rick, I am sorry I have hurt you.  However, I believe this evening is lost.  Will you take me home?"

I started the engine and made a U-turn.  As I drove back, I felt totally defeated.  There was complete silence in the car.  We didn't have far to go, so three minutes later we were there.  I felt so humiliated.  Now that I had lost my self-control, I imagine I had turned into some sort of helpless creature in her eyes.  Now I began to feel sad.  This was the last time I would ever see my Princess.  I wondered if I could rescue the situation.  No, probably not.  Desperation isn't very sexy.

When we reached her uncle's house, Rachel leaned over and took my face in her hands.  She kissed me hard on the lips.  Then she took my hand and held it with both hands.  She looked at me with a gentle smile. 

"Please don't be angry with me, Rick.  You are a fascinating, complicated man.  Perhaps I should have been more discrete, but I forget that I come from a different world than you do.  I love the time I have spent with you.  Please remember the good things we shared, not the bad."

And that was that.  I was forlorn as I watched Rachel enter her uncle's house.  It was over.  My temper tantrum had cost me my girl.

SUBCHAPTER 270 - OBSERVATION 33

INTRO

001

SUBCHAPTER 271 - SHATTERED

Given my precarious mindset, it will come as no surprise that a curtain of darkness descended the moment I drove away from Rachel.  I had known I was doomed from the moment I met this girl.  Nothing had ever seemed more inevitable.  I had made my best attempt to guard my feelings, but it didn't work.  My heart was broken and my confidence was shattered into countless pieces.  The moment I got home I went catatonic.  Visions of the creepy loser kid from childhood resurfaced to haunt me.  I spent Saturday night throwing the baseball in the air.  I did the same thing all day Sunday.  I was forlorn. 

On Monday, November 18, I got up and went to work.  No doubt Rachel was driving with her uncle to Austin, Texas, at this very moment.  The thought that I would never see her again upset me terribly.  I could not wait to talk to Mark.  The moment I entered his office, Mark saw the look on my face and was concerned.  "What happened to you, Rick?  You look like death warmed over."

I wasted no time telling Mark everything that had happened.  I broke down crying almost immediately, but I didn't care.  I needed to cry.  After the tears cleared, I told Mark how much it hurt to see my dream girl casually move from my arms to another man.  I lamented, "Why did she do that, Mark?  Why would she betray me like that?"

"Rick, first of all, let's get one thing straight.  Rachel did not betray you.  'Betray' is a harsh word that paints a very dark picture.  Rachel made no promises.  On the other hand, there is no doubt you have a right to feel hurt.  I imagine most men would have difficulty with such an odd turn of events.  I am really sorry things did not end well."

"You're right, Mark, thank you for correcting me.  'Betray' isn't the right word, is it?  But that's how I feel.  I am a loss to find a better word.  I feel so bitter right now.  On Tuesday night, we made love for hours.  On Wednesday morning, we made love again at dawn.  I drove her home and Rachel waved goodbye from her doorstep with a huge smile on her face.  Two nights later she is screwing some Rice professor's brains out.  I don't get it.  I really don't get it.  What did I do wrong?  I am so confused I don't know what to think."

I immediately started crying again.  When I regained control, Mark was wonderful.  He pitched in with kind words and sympathy. 

"I wouldn't be so hard on yourself.  Rachel is an unusual woman.  She strikes me as a free spirit who doesn't conform to ordinary expectations.  I imagine most men would have trouble dealing with what she did, not just you.  We like to think that human beings are above tawdry emotions such as jealousy, but we forget we have a considerable amount of animal instincts barely kept in control by our rational side.  Sharing a person we love with another goes completely against our nature."

"No kidding.  I can understand a woman taking on different men when it is casual sex.  But Rachel had feelings for me, I am sure of it.  I just cannot comprehend how a woman can be so passionate with me and jump straight into the arms of another man she barely knows.  I thought women preferred to be loyal to the men they make love to.  Rachel directly contradicts that thinking."

"Under normal circumstances, I don't think Rachel would have acted that way.  If I recall, you and she became lovers very quickly.  From what I gather, most women take their time about a decision this important.   But you need to see Rachel is operating under unusual circumstances.  She doesn't have to luxury of time, so she moves fast. 

I think you were the victim of some very bad luck.  When we were driving to Galveston, Rachel told me she came to America to learn things and see things.  It was a nasty coincidence that she met a professor whose knowledge lies in an area Rachel values so highly.  My guess is she wanted to gain as much insight as she could into her country's chances of survival and this man had the answers.  If Rachel wanted to get to know that man, she had one chance and she took it." 

"I know what you are saying, Mark.  Your point is well-taken.  But I feel so damn inferior to this man.  If there is one thing I have going for me, it is my intelligence and education.  Therefore it crushes me to lose my girl to a man with more intelligence and more education.  With Emily in college I got beaten out by a rich guy.  With Vanessa in graduate school I got beaten out by a super jock.   Now I just got beaten out by a professor.  No matter what I do, I just can't seem to win."

"I understand how hurt you are, but you might try looking at this from a different perspective.  Rachel clearly saw something special in you too.  Considering Rachel could have her pick of any man on earth, has it dawned on you that she picked you?"

Between renewed tears, I nodded.  Yes, that thought had occurred to me.  And I would try to hold onto that thought.  However, Rachel's unusual behavior was so painful, I could not even begin to look for the silver lining.  I had been King for a Day, but Rachel dumped me the moment she found a better man.  That thought hurt like hell.  It didn't take her long, did it?  I knew that pursuing Rachel was a bad idea.  I knew it, I knew it, I knew it.  I was in shock over how my premonition had proven true.  I had expected to pay a stiff price for getting attached to Rachel and, unfortunately, I was right.  Unfortunately, it gave me no solace to be proven correct.  I loved her so much, but right now I ached terribly.  If someone had the nerve to remind me it is better to have loved and lost, I would have punched him right in the nose. 

Predictably, a major depression set in.  I continued to play sports, but the Dance Project was over.  Whenever I came home from playing sports at the JCC, I took one look at the Magic Mirror, and said to heck with it.  I wasn't in the mood to dance anymore.  Instead I went to my thinking chair and mulled things over endlessly.  I was deeply preoccupied with the Supernatural nature of this event.  I felt I had been deliberately set up.  The centerpiece of my certainty was the phone call coincidence.  I had deliberately avoided calling Rachel because I assumed I would end up getting my feelings hurt.  Rachel had called me at the exact moment I had made my final decision not to call her.  I found that very curious. 

I also found Rachel's similarity to Vanessa to be uncanny.  The aggressive approach, the need to leave town soon, and the betrayal.  Obviously Rachel was supposed to teach me a lesson.  If Rachel was indeed placed in my life, what could I learn from her?   I knew the answer immediately.  This talented woman had shown me the correct way to live one's life... take chances, open up to different people, be truthful even when the truth will hurt someone dear, act decisively without procrastination.  I would be wise to emulate her.

Yes, Rachel had exposed my flaws, but maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.  In a manner reminiscent of Fujimoto, Rachel had taught me exactly what I needed to work on to advance myself.  I had issues with jealousy, possessiveness, and being fearful when opportunities arose.  So, yes, in a Cosmic sense, my time with Rachel had definitely helped me along my path.  Unfortunately, unbeknownst to me, Rachel had also left behind a ticking time bomb.  It was due to explode one week after her departure. 

SUBCHAPTER 272 - THE RIVER OAKS WOMEN SEND A MESSAGE

One week had passed since I lost my temper with Rachel on Saturday night.  Out of habit, the following Saturday I returned to David's Freestyle dance class.  Unfortunately, my heart was not in it.  I had not practiced once this past week and was strongly considering dropping the whole damn idea.  It took a massive guilt trip to force myself to attend today's class.  However, now that I was here, I regretted coming.  I could not care less about what David was teaching.  Mostly I watched the River Oaks women.  I noticed their poise, their regal bearing, and their self-confidence.  What a privilege to occupy such a lofty position in society.  It suddenly occurred to me that these women reminded me of Rachel.  Harboring a strong hunch that Rachel was born to wealth, I imagined she would fit in with this elite group just fine.  Right now Rachel was touring America breaking a different heart in every town, but someday she would settle down and no doubt achieve greatness.  I fully expected to read about Rachel in a magazine some day.

As for me, I was hardly destined for greatness.  Not at this rate.  As I went through the motions, I stared at myself in the mirror.  If nothing else, at least this dance class had gotten me to look in the mirror again.  As usual, I was disgusted with what I saw.  First, I felt sick as I stared at the scars on my face.  Maybe that's why Rachel deserted me.  After all, my scars were my favorite explanation every time something went wrong.  Then I observed my dancing.  Seeing how fluid the River Oaks women were compared to my mechanical motion, I still had a long way to go.  Damn it, why was I even bothering?  Losing Rachel had taken all the fun out my Dance Project. 

That is when the first painful insight hit.  The whole point of the Dance Project was to use dancing as a way to get to First Base with women I met in the clubs.  However, I gotten a lot further than First Base with Rachel only to screw everything up.  What good did it do for me to worry about getting to First Base if I was doomed to ruin everything once I got there? 

That thought hit me with the power of a sledgehammer.  Now I realized why I had stopped dancing in the Magic Mirror at home. 

Why bother using Dance as a way to meet women when I was bound to screw things up again like I had with Rachel? 

I was wasting my time, wasn't I?  With that negative thought, I lost all enthusiasm for dance.  And with that, I quit.  I didn't want to be here anymore, so I walked out of the room 10 minutes after class started.  I was done forever with this stupid dance class.  I wasn't getting anywhere with dancing to begin with and I would just make a mess of things even if I did meet a girl.  I was completely disgusted with myself.  This dance idea had to be the stupidest thing I had ever done in my life.  If the River Oaks women wanted to celebrate my departure, let them.  I didn't care anymore.  However, the strangest thing happened.  I stopped at the door and took one last look at the women.  Curious, they turned their heads and stared back.  It was like seven Rachels were trying to tell me something.

But what were they trying to say?  During my ride home, I felt my mind was hiding a secret that would no doubt upset me further.  When I got home, I headed straight for the Magic Mirror.  I pulled up a chair and sat there staring at myself in the mirror.  Whatever it was had something to do with Rachel, the River Oaks Seven, and St. John's.  The River Oaks women were the key.  Watching them today had upset me, but I could not put my finger on it.   Finally the answer flashed before me.  Every one of those women was married to a powerful, successful man.  For that matter, maybe one of their husbands was a Rice professor, someone just like Aaron.  Perhaps Rachel herself would marry a man just like Aaron.  Or maybe even Aaron himself.  That thought hit like a ton of bricks.
 

I hated the River Oaks Seven because they were older versions of the girls who turned their backs on me back in high school.  My mind had tiptoed around this issue before, but Rachel's dalliance with the Rice professor brought it into the open.  In high school I watched a legion of beautiful, intelligent, confident young ladies pass by as they went about their business.  These girls always seemed so far out of reach.  Not once did these debutantes turn their pretty faces to smile at me.  Instead they gave their smile to my handsome, witty, wealthy male counterparts.  The SJS girls were not mean to me like the River Oaks Seven, but they definitely ignored me.  They signaled their unavailability by pretending I was invisible.  That is where my sense of inferiority came from.  I had been fighting it ever since. 

For a moment there, Rachel had turned the corner for me.  By landing a girlfriend who was the equal of any St. John's girl, I had received an enormous boost in self-esteem.   However, it was all for naught.  I kept Rachel for all of one week only to lose her to Aaron, the Rice professor who was the perfect age-advanced representative for those sharp St. John's boys.  I had lost Rachel... the symbolic St. John's girl... to Aaron... the symbolic St. John's boy.  I had my answer.  I was not only inferior to the best and brightest SJS girls, by extension I was inferior to the best and brightest SJS guys.  My jealousy towards Aaron was rooted in the thought that I wasn't good enough to match up with my former male classmates.  

Throughout High School Hell, Harold had tried his best to convince me I was a creepy loser kid.  Right now, I had no way to prove him wrong.  No way, that is, until Rachel came along to validate my worth.  However, that feeling of being worthwhile disappeared the moment Rachel found someone better.  With Rachel at my side, I was Somebody.  With Rachel gone, I was Nobody.  I smiled grimly.  Story of my life.  Now I knew the true reason why I flipped out so badly over Aaron. 

I had just lost my girl to a man with an impressive career. 

SUBCHAPTER 273 - BARKING UP THE WRONG TREE

And with that, the time bomb exploded.  The thought that a woman like Rachel would never marry me in my current state of development shook me to the very foundation of my being.  The despair hit like a tsunami.  My predicament was even worse than I thought.  Good grief, look at me.  Here I was agonizing over Step Ball Change so I could get to First Base with a woman when the real problem was that my life was headed nowhere!!! 

So I get to First Base.  Then what?  For the past five months, I had been so preoccupied with getting to First Base that I had been blind to the fact that I should have been thinking about Second Base, Third Base and Home Plate.

Without a career, how would I ever attract a woman in Rachel's league to have a relationship?  It was a good thing I was sitting down because that thought hurt so much I grew faint.  It was Vertigo time.  The world was swirling and I was upset.  I had a hunch nothing turned a girl on faster than a successful career.  Money... prestige... talent... achievement... big house.  Those were the things symbolized by a career.  It went all the way back to genetic selection.  Women want to breed with the men who possessed superior talent.  Until I could demonstrate that talent, I was out of luck.

My mind drifted to Emily, the beautiful young lady I had fallen for in college only to watch her get swept off her feet by Eric, the handsome son of a Texas oilman.  Eric was taking Emily to New York for the weekend.  Daddy's money would pay for the train, hotel room, dinner at Sardi's, tickets to Grease.  In my wildest dreams, how could I ever compete with that?  My mind moved to Vanessa, the girl who dated the baseball star, the stud, the lady's man, the best-looking guy on campus.  How could I compete with that?  And now Aaron, the brilliant professor.  How could I compete with him?  I was beaten.  I could not possibly compete with any of these men.

Someday I wanted the equal of a St. John's girl by my side.  A woman like Emily or Rachel... classy, beautiful, intelligent.  That dream had just vanished.  No matter how good a dancer I became, that might get my foot in the door, but I would go no further.  The moment our conversation drifted to what I did for a living, the woman would realize my long-term prospects were severely limited. 

"So tell me, Rick, what do you do for a living?  What are your plans?  Where do you expect to be in ten years?"

I scoffed.  At this rate, in ten years I would be in the same place I was now... nowhere.  In the unlikely chance some woman liked me enough to overlook my scars and flaws, the Rachel experience assured me I would lose her in the End Game to a superior man like Eric or Aaron.  Good grief, here I was preoccupied over how my scars and inability to dance would keep me from dating.  What I should be worried about was how I could ever expect to win a head-to-head duel with a professional man.  

I accepted my time with Rachel had been a fluke born of Fate.  Under ordinary circumstances, the Rachels of the world were out of my league.  No girl with Rachel's talent would marry me in my current state of development.  That was the message that Rachel had been sent to deliver, I was sure of it.  Rachel had been sent to give me a taste of what I was missing, of what I would never attain unless I did something with my life.  I felt sick at the utter hopelessness of the situation.  My chances of landing a quality girlfriend were beyond remote.  Even if I mastered step-ball-change and mustered the courage to ask a girl to dance... a near-impossibility given my current frame of mind... there was a mountain of obstacles awaiting me further down the road.

I laughed darkly at the thought that Rachel's mysterious appearance was a Pop Quiz of sorts.  Today was 'One Year Post Vanessa'.  Time for a report card.  One year ago I had received an 'F' after Vanessa left me.  Look at me now.  I could not point to progress in a single area of my life.  I was wrapping my entire life around a stupid Dance Project when I should have been thinking about a career.  Rachel had delivered her Cosmic Message loud and clear... I was the biggest fool on earth.  It had taken Rachel's preference for the Rice professor to wake me up.  I suppose this was a message I needed to hear, but I wasn't very happy about it.  With that realization, I sunk into the worst depression since being tossed from graduate school.  Awash in a sea of self-criticism and doubt, I concluded this Dance Project was useless.  When it came to picking the better man, women would choose P-H-D over step-ball-change any day of the week.  What a joke.  All this time spent in front of the mirror was a complete waste of time.  I was barking up the wrong tree.

SUBCHAPTER 274 - THE INVITATION

Don't ask me how, but I emerged from my catatonic state to go to work the following Monday, November 25.  At the first opportunity, I slunk into Mark's office.  I needed Mark more than ever before. 

"Mark, I am a mess.  This weekend, I finally got to the bottom of what upset me so much about Rachel sleeping with Aaron."

"What did you decide?"

"I cannot believe I lost Rachel to a Rice professor.  That hit on top of a very badly damaged nerve.  Why a professor?  How can I ever hope to compete with a guy like Aaron?  He is an educated man who possesses inside knowledge about Israel, Rachel's homeland.  Aaron is an academic superstar, I am an academic failure.  That should have been me... I had the talent to be a professor.  But no, I am the asshole who got himself thrown out of graduate school.  Right now, the irony is overwhelming."

"You are still bitter about being thrown out of graduate school."

"You have no idea, Mark.  I feel so empty right now.  I have come to the conclusion that I will lose every girlfriend I ever meet to a man who is better than me.  Even if I do meet another Rachel, my lack of career and lack of direction will doom me for eternity.  When it comes to a superior woman like Rachel, she will immediately inquire about my career.  The only reason Rachel didn't care about my lack of career is because she knew she would be gone in a week.  But if I were to meet a girl like Rachel who lives here in Houston, it isn't like I can pull a career out of my hat."

"Why don't you go back to school, Rick?  You're young, you've got time to start over."

"Mark, you are right.  You are absolutely right.  But you don't know what it was like to get kicked around in graduate school.  The humiliation of Fujimoto's putdowns still follows me wherever I go.  I'll be damned if I put my head back in that noose again.  I don't want to go anywhere near another school.  There's got to be something I can do with the degree I have, but I don't have a clue where to look.  My prospects are like the old joke... 'I have a degree in Liberal Arts.  Do you want fries and ketchup with that hamburger?"

"I definitely see your point, Rick, but this is a decision you need to make for yourself.  If picking a great career was easy, then I would have a different job as well.  Back when I was in college, I wanted a fabulous career, but after a year or two in the Real World, I decided to settle for a steady paycheck.  Listen, Rick, I hate to cut you off, but I have someone coming in for an interview.  Let's pick this up again soon.  But before I forget, I am throwing a party at my house this coming Saturday.  Maybe that will cheer you up a little.  Would you like to come?  There will be dancing, I promise."

"Don't ever say that word again.  I'm done with dancing."

"Boy, you really are in a bad mood.  I thought dancing was your big ticket to girls."

"Yeah, so did I until I met Rachel.  Thanks to her, I realized that no matter how many dance steps I learn, dancing will never hold a girl of her caliber for long.  Besides, I still can't dance a lick, Mark.  If you saw me dance, you would just laugh.  I am beyond pathetic."

"I have only known you for a month, Rick, but I know you tend to be too hard on yourself.  Why don't you come to my party and try out some of your moves?  If there is one thing I know about you, dancing makes you happy."

"Not any more.  Dancing is a dead end.  I am really at a loss what to do next."

"Come to my party.  You are moody right now and you need to snap out of it.  I think you need to socialize a little.  Every time you are alone, you get down on yourself."

"Oh, Mark, I appreciate the thought, but I want to meet girls.  How am I going to meet girls at a gay party?"

"Guess what?  That's where you are wrong.  Lots of different people come to my parties.   Guess what, I have a surprise for you.  There will be girls for you to dance with.  Mariah always invites her girlfriends from the Welfare unit she supervises.  We had over a dozen women at my last party.  They were all single and they weren't that much older than you.  So quit being so closed-minded and come join us."

Mark pushed a flyer across the desk.  Under the heading 'Party at Casa Mark', it had his address and a simple map.  I picked it up and said, "Okay, Mark, let me think about it.  I'll let you know later in the week."

As I walked back to my office, I had no intention of going to Mark's party.  The whole idea of going to a gay party was ridiculous, but I didn't want to say something to Mark I might regret.  Since it was easier just to say nothing, I avoided Mark for the rest of the week.

SUBCHAPTER 275 - MULLING IT OVER

Thanksgiving came and went.  Thank goodness Allen and Polly Clark invited me over.  At least I had one place where I felt welcome.

On the next Saturday morning, I had a decision to make.  Should I go to Disco Dave's class?  It had been two weeks since Rachel left and two weeks since I had danced in the Magic Mirror.  I was falling way behind.  Recalling how I had walked out of dance class last week, I wasn't sure what to do.  Try again?  Oddly enough, I felt a flicker of interest.  No matter how big a loser I was, Mark was right about dancing making me happy.  On the spur of the moment, I decided to return to David's Freestyle class. 

As expected, the River Oaks Seven were irritated to see me return.  Even though they quickly turned their heads back to the front, I could see their frowns thanks to reflections in the front mirror.  Good.  I was glad they were upset.  If I can't be happy, then at least let me make them miserable.  On the other hand, David seemed pleased to see me. 

"Welcome back, Rick, I was afraid we had seen the last of you."

David didn't know this, but gay or not, I wanted hug to him for saying that.  Sure enough, when he welcomed me back, all seven women instantly wanted to strangle him.  David saw the scorn on their faces and immediately panicked at his slip.  That was funny, so I laughed in spite of my bad mood.   

I went to my usual spot in the back of the room.  David put the music on and I did my best to get my big clumsy body moving.  Staring at the River Oaks Seven as I practiced, I was reminded this dance class was just as much a part of my Fate as Rachel had been.  What an odd thought.  If Rachel's appearance was supernatural, then the presence of these River Oaks women was supernatural as well.  It was a Cosmic Joke that I had chosen 'Dance' of all things to stage my comeback from the Colorado State disaster, but there was no doubt in my mind that I had ended up in this dance class for a purpose.  I had no idea what the future held, but my presence in this class was no accident.  I truly believed that.  For better or worse, these awful women were here for some reason, so I might as well deal with them. 

This thought rallied me.  I had no idea why learning to dance was so important, but when an activity has been given the Cosmic Seal of Approval, maybe I would be wise to stick with it.  And you know what?  I was suddenly glad I came back today.  Mark was right... I liked dancing.  Too bad I wasn't any good at it.

Rachel had the Cosmic Seal of Approval too.  Rachel had reawakened my ambition to be somebody.  Nothing on earth meant more to me than escaping these awful feelings of mediocrity.  I idly wondered if any of these socialite women had gone to St. John's when they were younger.  Their refusal to accept me as an equal still stung deep.  Someday I wanted to date another woman like Rachel who was the equivalent of a St. John's girl, maybe even marry her.  I wanted to prove to the world I was the equal of my talented classmates. 

What makes a person superior?  The British assume a person's blood makes them royal, but considering the poor behavior of some of their monarchs, that didn't cut it with me.  No, superiority was Rachel.  Rachel was the most superior person I had ever met.  Her spirit, her enthusiasm, her willingness to try new things impressed me deeply.  And with that thought, I smiled.  Maybe I was looking at this from the wrong direction.  Previously I had believed Rachel had been sent to torment me and expose my weaknesses.  Now I thought there was a real possibility she had been sent to inspire me, to get me moving again.  I nodded at that thought.  Rachel had shown me what it was like to embrace new experiences and meet new people, to not be afraid all the time. 

If Rachel was meant to be my inspiration, what would I do if I was more like her?  I suppose I should try something new, something out of my comfort zone.  And with that, I changed my mind about Mark's invitation.  I would go to his party and dedicate the experience to Rachel's memory.  I needed to find some way to not be such a shrinking violet all the time.  However, as always, Phobia decided to pour cold water on my idea.  As I drove home after dance class, I had second thoughts.  Phobia had all sorts of reasons why I shouldn't go. 

'You are still licking your wounds from Rachel's departure two weeks ago.  Why go to a party when you are in such a bad mood? Besides, Mark was just fibbing to you.  There won't be any girls there.  So what is the point of going to a gay party?  What kind of fun will that be?  What exactly do you intend to talk to these gay people about?  This is a complete waste of your time.'

I frowned.  That damn Phobia was such a jerk.  However, as always, Phobia's logic was tough to argue with.  I wanted to meet women, not men.  Mark had assured me there would be lots of women there in addition to his gay friends, but Phobia didn't believe him.  Neither did I.  At that moment, Chip tossed in an interesting thought.  My mind drifted back to Galveston Beach.  I recalled the girl from the second car who had chosen to keep her swim suit on.  I had been too preoccupied with Rachel to pay attention to her, but I remembered that she was pretty in a shy sort of way.  Maybe Mark was telling the truth.  Maybe I would see that shy girl again at Mark's party. 

When I returned home, I looked again at the flyer Mark had handed me.  Looking at his address, I realized Mark lived across the street from Cherryhurst Park, the Montrose park where I had taught myself how to play basketball.  I had fond memories of Cherryhurst Park because my border collie Terry would run around chasing squirrels while I practiced shooting lay ups and jump shots.  Any memory of Terry always cheered me up.  I took Cherryhurst Park as a good omen. 

However, Phobia continued to throw rain on my parade.  Mark had said there would be dancing.  Dancing?  Phobia reminded me I wasn't in the mood to dance nor was I ready to risk someone laughing at my spasticity.  Besides, I was still wallowing in my futility.  Preoccupied with thoughts of finding a career, dancing was the last thing on my mind. 

Chip said to ignore Phobia.  Maybe I would meet someone or maybe I wouldn't, but it wasn't like I was teeming with options.  Anything beat shooting pool on a Saturday night in my lonely apartment.  I thought again about that shy girl.  Although my mind was set on dating another girl of Rachel's caliber, at the moment I wasn't feeling very choosy.  Practically any girl would do at this point if she would just smile at me.  Chip was right.  It was either go to Mark's party or stay home and shoot pool.  Recalling my vow to attend this party in Rachel's honor, that was the deciding factor.  I would go to the party.

SUBCHAPTER 276 - PARTY AT CASA MARK

The moment I walked in the door, I regretted my decision.  Phobia was ecstatic.  To begin with, Chip's shy girl was nowhere in sight.  And yes, there were women, but they were not quite the women I had expected.  It wasn't till I arrived at the party that I realized Mark had the sense to avoid telling me the women were all lesbians.  I groaned at how gullible I had been.  Silly me.  I was so lonely I went ahead and believed whatever I wanted to believe.  This was exactly the same wishful thinking that had landed me in Drag Queen Lynn's arms back in July.  With a frown, I reminded myself to watch out for drag queens at Mark's party.  Let's not fall for that again.

I shook my head in frustration as I looked around.  Other than Mark's beautiful wife Mariah, there was not one attractive woman in the house.  Oh well, now that I was here, I might as well make the best of it.  It was stay here or go back to my lonely apartment.  Anything was better than spending another Saturday night alone, so I decided to stick around and watch. 

I was surprised at how crowded the party was.  There were easily 50 people spread out all over the place.  It didn't take long to be reminded that I had zero party skills.  A loner by nature, I had no idea how to be outgoing.  I did not know how to make small talk with strangers mainly because I never had any practice.  I was cordial enough when spoken to, but unwilling to make the first move.  Mark was always encouraging me to lighten up, but it seemed impossible to strike up a conversation with someone I did not know or have anything in common with.  Where would I start?

Since I did not know a soul and conversation was out of the question, I located a comfortable chair and sat down to watch the people dance.  At Casa Mark, as promised, the dance music was playing from the moment I arrived.  Donna Summer and Gloria Gaynor were the current popular singers and Van McCoy's Do the Hustle had just come out.  Lots of people were freestyle dancing, so I was mesmerized.  I watched intently.  And watched.  And watched some more.  I thought to myself this was ridiculous.  Why am I sitting here?  These people weren't any better dancers than me.  I had been taking lessons for close to four months, yet I still did not have the guts to dance in public.  I absolutely detested myself for my cowardice.  On the other hand, I didn't know anyone to ask, so I stayed rooted to my seat. 

People kept arriving.  Pretty soon Casa Mark was packed.  I discovered that Mark was extremely popular in his world.  Now that I thought about it, I should not have been surprised.  Using his natural warmth, Mark was an excellent host.  Watching Mark make everyone feel welcome, I was envious of his people skills.   It upset me that I did not have the slightest idea how to initiate a conversation with someone I did not know, but what was I supposed to do about it?   Watching Mark in action, I took mental notes.  I wistfully speculated about whether the day would ever come when I could be as outgoing as Mark.

Just then Mariah walked by and waved politely without stopping.  After that, I could not keep my eyes off her.  When Mark first mentioned he had a wife, I did a double-take.  Huh?  I thought it was odd for a gay man to have a wife, but decided not to pry.  I was expecting some sort of plump, easy-going homebody, but I was completely wrong.  When I first met Mariah on the trip to the Galveston Beach, I was floored.  Although my focus had been on Rachel, I had taken a moment to appreciate Mariah's lovely naked body.  Mariah was a serious babe.  Tall and slender with long, straight dark hair, Mariah was just as attractive as Vanessa and Rachel. 

Like Mark, Mariah was a supervisor in the Welfare department.  However she worked in another office.  The beach trip had not revealed much about her.  Mark had said she was quiet by nature and I believed him.  Mariah had not said a word during the long drive down and back.  Indeed, even at this party in her home, Mariah was still reserved.  Unlike Mark who was everywhere, Mariah limited her conversation to a select few.  I wondered if Mariah was a lesbian.  I watched carefully, but there wasn't anything that gave the slightest hint one way or the other.  So far she had not shown any interest in women.  Actually she didn't show interest in anyone, including me. 

Mariah's demeanor was not feminine, but not masculine either.  Mariah was a no-frills, matter of fact kind of girl.  She wore no makeup nor did she fix up her long brown hair.  Her clothing was simple.  She didn't smile, but she didn't frown either.  She wore a mask that revealed nothing. 

Who is this mystery woman?  I watched her all night long, but never learned a thing about her.  Despite her aloof demeanor, I was very attracted to Mariah.  From the vantage point of my chair, I passed my time fantasizing about her.  Later in the evening, Mariah smiled at me when she passed by, but again she didn't stop to chat.  As she walked away, I watched how she moved and trembled.  Shaking my head in admiration, I let out a soft whistle in disbelief.  'How in the hell does a gay guy get a wife who looks like Mariah??'  

Mariah was the Ice Queen, distant and cool.   

SUBCHAPTER 277 - THE DANCE POLICE

An hour passed and I had not left this chair since I entered the party.  I was resigned to the fact that I probably would not leave this chair until I decided to go home.  Charles was too busy for me, so I didn't bother him.  I knew no one and I was too intimidated to ask anyone to dance.  In my defense, I had little enthusiasm for asking a gay guy to dance.  Ditto for the lesbian ladies.  There wasn't anyone I wanted to dance with, so why bother?  I suppose I could have gotten up and asked myself to dance, but with my luck, I would have gotten rejected.  Small joke. 

For lack of anything better to do, I thought about Rachel.  When would I ever find another woman like Rachel?  Probably never.  Rachel was one of a kind.  Resigned to being lonely for the rest of my life, I sunk deeper into this comfortable leather chair.  Here at Heartbreak Hotel, I felt safe enveloped by the giant chair.  It was easily my best friend since Couch Catatonia.  The chair was my refuge, my protection from an uncaring world that had been far too mean to me.  Lonely man cries for love and has none, etc, etc.  Aching terribly over Rachel's loss, I refused to move until the World told me it was sorry for stealing Rachel from me.  Just as I was crying in my beer, some lady came over to insist I get up and dance with her. 

"Sorry, buddy, but you've been sitting here too long without dancing.  You're spoiling the party, so get up and dance with me!"

Totally caught off guard, I was stunned.  Why was this stranger so insistent?  Flustered, I blurted out, "Naw, I better not.  I don't know how to dance."

To my surprise, this lady would not take no for an answer.  "My name is Donna," she said, "and I am Chief of Police at Casa Mark.  During my patrol, I have observed you are in violation of party rules.  You have to dance whether you like it or not."

This Donna woman was so completely deadpan, I thought she was serious.  I immediately protested. 

"No one told me I had to dance."

"Sorry, mister, ignorance of the law is no excuse.  Stand up, please." 

 "Are you serious?"

This time I detected a hint of a smile.  "Yes, of course I'm serious.  It is my duty to make sure all guests dance.  That's the rule.  You have been observed drinking a beer obtained at this party, so that obligates you to comply with the rules of Casa Mark.  Sorry, buddy, you gotta dance.  That's the price of admission."

Although I was impressed with the caliber of Donna's bullshit, I refused to budge.  However, Donna didn't budge either.  This was a test of wills.  "C'mon, big boy, get up.  This is a party.  Even parties have rules.  It's your turn to dance!  Don't make me hurt you!"

When I didn't move, to my amazement Donna grabbed my arm and started to tug!  Donna was a short, plump woman, so of course I was much too strong for her.  However, Donna would not give up.  Instead, Donna waved to another woman.   "Pat, we have a problem guest.  Get over here and help me get this bozo on his feet."

Donna beckoned for her girlfriend Pat to grab my other arm.  Now both women were pulling me up, thereby giving a comic twist to the term 'drag queen'.  To my surprise, these women were strong!   And determined too.  Plus they were having way too much fun with this.  Pat started giggling.  "C'mon, you big ox, get up and dance with us.  Quit being such a party pooper." 

That broke the tension.  Laughing in spite of myself, I would have to use actual force to resist further.  Unwilling to risk hurting the women, I stood up voluntarily.  Pretty much against my will, I suddenly found myself dancing.  I was in shock.  How on earth did this happen?  I could not believe I was on the dance floor with these two women.  Good grief!!  My Phobia kicked in and I was terrified!  Were these women going to laugh at me when they saw how bad I was? 

I was so nervous I could remember nothing but one pattern.  I moved my feet side-touch, side-touch for the entire 4 minute song.  That's right - one single move for 4 minutes.  For the past four months I had been practicing a dozen different patterns, but I was so tense I could only think of this one move to the entire song. 

After half the song, Pat left.  Now it was just Donna and me.  "Hey, what's your name?"

"'Rick."

"Good to meet you, Rick.  I am glad I didn't have to put you in jail.  We torture guests who don't dance and you seem like a nice person."

I forced a weak smile.  For the second time I wondered when Donna would start laughing at me.  To my relief, Donna didn't laugh.  In fact, she didn't frown or make fun of my dancing at all.  In fact, she barely noticed me.  Donna was too busy enjoying herself to care.  She had a happy smile on her face as she worked her ample hips joyfully to the music.

With that, I started to relax.  Oh my gosh, I am actually dancing in public!  As Gloria Gaynor belted out, "I will survive", I laughed at the words.  I wanted to survive too.  I wanted to survive Rachel, I wanted to survive Colorado State and I wanted to prove to the River Oaks Seven that I was just as good a person as they were.  But most of all I wanted to live again.  When the song ended, I felt a real sense of triumph. 

SUBCHAPTER 278 - DRAGGED OVER A BARRIER

I thanked Donna for the dance, then went back to my chair to gloat.  I did it!  I had danced with a real live woman and she did not faint or laugh at me.  Nor had any onlookers laughed or jeered.  No one ridiculed me like Connie Kill Shot's roommates back at the college mixer.  In fact, no one paid a bit of attention.  I felt so silly.  All this worry and no one gave a damn how poorly I danced.  I could really be a dork sometimes.  Why was I always so sensitive? 

Insignificant as this incident sounds, I crossed a real mental barrier out there.  I was immensely relieved to discover I could dance in public without people laughing at me.  When I stopped to think about it, this was only the third time in my life I had ever danced in public.  Well, good for me!  Let's hear it for the boy.  Meanwhile Phobia was pouting.  Phobia was not happy over my breakthrough.

Now that I had returned to my refuge, several interesting thoughts crossed my mind.  First and foremost was my favorite experiment, Learned Helplessness.  Martin Seligman, the experimenter, had shocked the feet of helpless dogs to train them to give up all struggle when they heard the buzzer.  Once they were trained to give up, two-thirds of the dogs refused to escape a second situation even though escape was effortless.  Now Seligman was curious to see if he could cure the dogs of their defeatist attitude.  Sad to say, nothing worked.  If a dog gave up the first time, he gave up the second time and third time.  Nothing could persuade that dog to jump over the barrier to safety.  Come here, boy, jump!   Nope, coaxing didn't work.  Neither did food.  Whistling didn't work.  Nothing worked.

Someone suggested tying a rope and dragging the dogs across the barrier during the buzzer/shock phase.  To Seligman's delight, this technique did work.  By physically dragging them across the barrier while the shock phase was in progress, several of the dogs caught on.  Seligman did not cure all the dogs, but he was able to cure half of them of this way.   Seligman concluded the only way to cure the dog's fear was to drag the animal kicking and screaming over the barrier while the buzzer/shock phase was in progress. 

As I sat there in the chair, I asked myself an odd question.  Why am I thinking about this?  When the answer hit me, my jaw dropped open.  The parallel between those dogs and myself was inescapable.  The only way to cure the dogs was to drag them over the barrier.  Now Donna had just dragged me over my own barrier.  By forcing me to dance whether I liked it or not, Donna had essentially 'tied me to a tree'.  Donna's intervention had been amazing.  I had danced in public, no one had laughed at me, and now I was willing to try again.  I could not believe my good fortune.  

However, despite my initial triumph, I wasn't completely cured.  A little while later, several people got up to try a line dance known as the Four Corners.   Donna and Pat were trying to show some of the guests how to do it.  Donna snapped her fingers at me, so I dutifully got up and tried a couple steps.  However it was too complicated, so I sat back down in frustration.   

Fortunately, I wasn't traumatized.  Despite my line dance setback, I was eager to try my Freestyle dancing again.  When Donna asked me to dance a second time, I was quick to cooperate.  I was proud of myself for dancing at this party.  My enthusiasm helped me ignore countless warning messages sent by Phobia.  Undeterred, I told Phobia to drop dead.

There was a signature moment of glory towards the end of the evening.  That is when I got up the nerve to ask a lady I didn't know to dance with me.  This was my biggest obstacle... asking a woman who was a stranger to dance with me.  I had noticed an older woman, kind of fat and dumpy, who was watching the dancing with the same wistful look as me. 

Noticing the way her toes were keeping the beat, I remembered Christopher's Fly Me to the Moon observation that toe tapping is a sure sign a girl wants to dance.  So I took a deep breath and got out of my easy chair.  My heart pounded as I went up to her and asked.  Imagine my delight when she accepted.  Good for me!  As we danced, I noticed she seemed happy that I had asked.  Gosh, asking girls to dance isn't as hard as I thought it would be.

After the song, the lady had a big smile.  Unfortunately I failed to get her name nor did I have the sense to engage her in small talk.  Oh well, one step at a time.  I was proud of myself nonetheless.  Having asked a woman to dance and been rewarded for the effort, I had crossed a major barrier.  This party had been a huge tonic for my broken spirits.   I was very glad I had come to Casa Mark tonight.  Thanks to Donna's Intervention, dancing was fun again. 

SUBCHAPTER 279 - OBSERVATION 34

Rick Archer's Footnote:

After dancing with that older woman, I noticed that someone had sat down in my chair.  Deprived of my refuge, maybe this would be a good time to leave.  I wanted to go home and bask in the glow of my success.  Wasn't it amazing that Donna, a complete stranger, had helped me defy my Rejection Phobia?  Stop and think about it... given my Phobia, there was no way in hell I was getting out of that chair under my own power.  Donna had done me a tremendous favor by dragging me to my feet.  It was too good to be true.  In fact, Donna's action was so significant I was positive the Universe had sent Donna to help me cross this barrier. 

I was especially grateful because Donna's insistence that I dance helped cure that nagging 'Dilemma' which I did not seem able to overcome under my own power.  But why would Donna do that?  She was a complete stranger.  Why would she go so far out of her way to force me to participate?  I didn't see her insist with anyone else.  You know me, I see the supernatural hiding behind every shadow.  This is why I was certain Donna's assistance was a new case of Divine Intervention.  After all, no other explanation made sense.

However, just as I was about to leave, I saw something suspicious.  I wanted to say goodbye to Mark, so I went to find him.  Stopping at the entrance to the kitchen, I noticed that Mark was whooping and hollering with Donna, the so-called chief of dance police.  When I waved goodbye to Mark, he did a double-take.  Was it my imagination or did Mark look like he had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar?  Hmm.  Donna looked a little guilty too.  Busted!  Good grief, this 'Intervention' had been Mark's idea all along.   I waved my finger at him like he was a naughty boy and then I grinned at him.  Mark cracked up and waved back.  With that, I took off. 

As I drove home, I thought it over.  So Mark was responsible for the Intervention, not some hidden gremlin pulling strings behind closed doors.  Oh well, my Mystic explanation would have to give way to this Realistic explanation.  But then I had another thought.  What gave Mark the idea to send Donna over to me?  For that matter, who gave me the idea to leave at the right time to catch Mark and Donna laughing together?  Where exactly do ideas come from?   Our own mind?  Or could it be a quiet whisper from afar?

In the game of looking for evidence of the Supernatural, it is impossible to truly know what is going on.  I may not be able to see the levers and pulleys being operated, but it sure seemed like a lot of suspicious things kept happening to me.  Tonight's Intervention was the perfect example.  Due to Rachel and my self-doubt, the Dance Project had come to a grinding halt.  Now thanks to Mark and Donna, my passion for dance had been reignited.  Considering we all know where my future lie, this breakthrough became a major stepping stone along my Dance Path.  Therefore the impact alone gives me reason to add Mark and Donna's Intervention to the Observation List.  
 

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SUBCHAPTER 280 - OBSERVATION 35

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