Tag Archives: compulsive

THE GREEN EYED MONSTER

I admit I’m not an example of a perfect human being. I’m not without my flaws. I have a short fuse, and I’m a perfectionist. I never lie, not even to protect someone’s feelings. I can be blunt to the point of being rude at times. I am a busy person; I don’t have time to protect someone’s feelings.

On the other hand, I am also generous to a fault. I am the person who will give you a place to stay if you need one. I’ll give you money if you find yourself in a fix, even if it’s my last dollar. I will stand up for you when you need a friend. But don’t lie to me ever, or you will find my boot on your neck. Figuratively, of course. Don’t cross me. I will seek my revenge. Oh, I almost forgot I am a jealous person.

I was kind of a shy person in high school. I didn’t date. I was always afraid of rejection. I lacked confidence in myself. That is until I was accepted into all of the colleges I applied to in my senior year of high school. I hit the ball out of the park when I took my SAT tests. I got the highest score possible, 1,600. I have to admit even I was shocked. Although, to tell the truth, nobody but nobody prepared themselves more for the SAT test than I did. I studied night and day and didn’t go out on weekends or during the summer. I didn’t date. I didn’t have time for a social life.

And all my hard work was rewarded in Spades when I was accepted at all the colleges I applied to. And they were all top-notched schools. I have to admit I had felt a little bigger, and so did my ego. I knew that when my college career began, I was going to excel there as well. I didn’t have to get a job because I got a full ride for four years of college. And one of the benefits I hoped to enjoy was my pick of the most beautiful undergraduate women I met.

I looked forward to the first day I walked across the campus. And I couldn’t believe how many beautiful co-eds were there. I knew I still had to work and study to continue my success. I knew it wasn’t going to be handed to me. But, I made a promise to myself that I, Joseph P. Harding, would graduate at the top of his senior class walking hand in hand with the most beautiful female in my graduation class.

It wasn’t going to be easy because I knew I would be working and studying almost every minute of the day. When I wasn’t in class. I kept my eyes open at all times, searching for that perfect partner. And then, one day, it happened, I saw her sitting across the room. She had long, red hair and blue eyes the color of a cloudy sky. A killer smile and a laugh that garnered everyone’s attention. It was like music to my ears. I knew, just knew she was the one.

I had to find a way of getting to know her without seeming too obvious. And by the end of the class, a solution was handed to me. When the professor said, you are going to have a project that would have to be completed by mid-term, and we were required to have a pardner. Can the person sitting at the front of each aisle please come up and get these handouts for each person in your aisle? The handout will explain the project and its perimeters.”

And I thought, ah-ha, that’s it. I’ll ask her to be my partner. I would find out if she would be the perfect fit for me. I wanted a woman that was not only beautiful but intelligent, quick, talented, and interesting. And whose focus was on being as successful as I was. And who knew what her goals were, not just immediate goals, but long-term goals.

And then I heard the professor calling out my name and telling me my partner was Helena Cox. And then, she asked us to both stand up and introduce ourselves to our partners and the class. And low and behold, the future love of my life stood up, as did I. Helena stood up and said it in a clear, beautiful voice. “My name is Helena Cox. I’m happy to meet you all.”

And then I stood up and said, “Hello, my name is Joseph P. Harding. And it’s privileged to meet you, Helena. I look forward to working with you and getting to know you.” I heard a few snickers from some of my classmates after my comment. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so transparent. I would have to be less transparent in the future. My face got a little red. But I promised myself I would be more careful in the future. The professor said, “please make plans to meet after class and discuss your topic and divide the workload. I don’t want any one person to be doing all the work. Is that understood?”

And everyone mumbled, “yes, sir.”

The professor said, “what did you say? I can’t hear you.”

And we all yelled out, “yes, sir.”

As I was leaving class that day, I felt someone tug my sleeve, and I turned in that direction, somewhat annoyed. I didn’t want to be late for my next class. I said, “yes, what? I don’t have a lot of time.”

And I turned and saw that beautiful face looking at me with those eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to sound so rude. I just can’t stand being late. It starts the class off on the wrong foot, doesn’t it? I’m on my way to Introduction to Freshman Literature. Where are you going?”

“Oh, that’s funny. That’s my next class too. Do you mind if I walk with you?”

“Mind? No, not at all. Sorry for seeming so abrupt. Let’s go. We can discuss any ideas we have for our project.”

“Well, there’s the library on the left. Why don’t we stop in there and read over the handout? We still have about twenty minutes before the next class.”

“OK, but I don’t want to be late. Oh, sorry. I just hate being late.”

“It’s OK, I don’t like to be late, but it should only take a couple of minutes.”

So, we went into the library and took the two closest empty seats. And we scanned the hand-outs. Helena was a faster reader than I, and she said, “oh, I think I have an idea already. How about if we write the report from an observer’s point of view? As if they were there observing it firsthand. What do you think?”

“I think that is a great idea. How about exchanging emails and phone numbers? And then we can think about it overnight and then talk about it when you have a free period this week.”

“That’s a great idea, Helen. I have Wednesday, third period open. How about you?”

“Wow, that is really a coincidence, Joseph. I have that period open as well. It’s almost like fate wanted us to work together.” And I gazed into her eyes.

She looked at me and then looked away. “Well, I don’t know about that. but it does seem like good luck.”

“Everybody calls me Joe.”

“OK, Joe. I’ll see you then.”

The rest of the day, I had difficulty concentrating. My mind kept flashing back to Helen. I knew it wasn‘t a good idea to start focusing my attention on a girl I hardly knew. When I needed to keep my energy on school and moving forward. But there was something about her that drew me to her.

On Wednesday, Joe had trouble concentrating on any of his classes. He kept obsessing about meeting Helen at the library during the third period. The third-period bell finally rang, and Joe all but flew out of his chair and out the door to the library. He made a pit stop at the men’s laboratory to check his hair and use the bathroom.

When he arrived at the library, he peaked in the door to see if Helen had arrived.  He could see her sitting at a table in the back of the room. There were several people sitting there already, but there was still one empty seat. He had hoped that he could get some alone time with her. This was going to make it more difficult for him to ask her out.

Joe walks nonchalantly to the table. Then he notices the guy touch Helen’s arm. This immediately set off alarms in his head that he didn’t know what to do. His first impulse was to knock the guy’s hand off her arm. But he managed to get hold of himself at the last minute. Joe took a deep breath and then walk over to Helen and said, “hello Helen, do you still have time to talk to me about the project we have to work on together?

“Sure, by the way, this is my boyfriend, Charles. He is a year ahead of me. So, he has been showing me the ropes and all the professors. And he knows about all the great places to go in the area. I’m sure he would be willing to share the info with you.”

Joe’s jaw felt like it fell to the floor when she said, “boyfriend.” And he almost shouted, boyfriend, out loud. He was so relieved that he managed to control himself at the last second. What he did say was, “oh, you didn’t mention you had a boyfriend.”

Helen stared at him blankly for a moment and said, “well, there wasn’t any reason to. we are just working on a project together. We don’t even know each other. We just met in class the other day.”

“Oh, sure, of course. Sorry. Do you have time to discuss our project?”

“You know Joe; perhaps it might be better if you and I found other partners. I don’t think this is going to work out. I’m going to talk to the professor about it right now.” Then Helen leaned in and gave her boyfriend a kiss.

Joe’s face turned bright red, and he felt like he was going to explode. He abruptly turned away and walked out of the library. He decided he better go outside and take a walk until he calmed down. This was not the first time something like this had happened to him. He had a tendency to get carried away. And believing that girls liked him just because he liked them. And then he would get very angry when he realized they didn’t. And the one time he did have a “real” girlfriend, he didn’t trust her and would stalk her wherever she went.

Eventually, the parents of the girl made a police complaint about him. And he was forced to take counseling and wasn’t allowed to go near the girl again, or he would be arrested. He had been warned about this behavior, but he didn’t seem to have any control over his feelings. He felt overwhelming jealousy whenever he was attracted to someone and expected those feelings to be reciprocated, but they never were because he became so possessive.

Joe sat down on a bench, trying to calm down. He decided he just needed to give Helen more time, and she would come to care about him the same way he felt about her. He decided he was going to clandestinely follow her and then gradually bump into her once in a while until they became friends. And she would come to realize that she really did love him as much as he loved her. And she would dump her loser boyfriend. And then they would end up together forever. He just knew it.

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HATS ON AND ON AND ON TO INFINITY

It’s just another ordinary day. I wasn’t expecting anything unusual to happen. My alarm rings at 7:47 am right on the dot. I dangle my legs over the side of the bed and let them hang there for a bit just to get the circulation back.

Cowboy Hats by Paul Br751

I start making the bed, and as I get out of bed, I straighten the sheets and then the Cowboy comforter. I smile, just looking at that bedspread. I can’t believe how lucky I was to find it on eBay. I’ve looked for one for twenty years. I owned one when I was a kid, but my mother gave it away when I was sixteen. She said I was too old for a cowboy bedspread. Can you imagine? Too grown-up for cowboys, ridiculous.

I walk the twenty-seven steps to my bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. I take off my hat and look at the top of my head that clearly has less hair this morning than it did yesterday. I sigh. Oh well, what can you do? I get out my mustache kit. I comb it straight down and then trim each hair one at a time. I comb it seven times I try to be vigilant about the length and the shape.

You just can’t let yourself go to hell, right? I decide tonight I will touch up the gray a little. Not all of it, of course, I like to look my best, but no one’s going to believe that someone that is sixty-seven doesn’t have some gray hair in his stache. I jump into the shower and wash and rinse myself seven times. I put on my clothes and look in the mirror. Not bad, I think.

I pull up my bamboo socks, you wouldn’t believe how comfortable they are, and your feet can breathe. And the Piece De Resistance is my hand-made vintage Lee Miller boots. They cost a pretty penny, but believe me, they were worth it. They are hand-stitched with red hearts and inlaid white patches. I  feel like a million bucks.

This makes it even more difficult for me to understand why I can’t find a woman to keep me company in the sunset of my years. After all, I’m not bad-looking, have some money in the bank and own a home with no mortgage. What more could any woman want? Plus, I’m very, very neat, and a dam good cook to boot.

I set the table for two, I live alone, but I’m optimistic. I take two steps to the right and then two steps back. And take my seat, as I eat my bowl of Peanut Butter Captain Crunch. I consider where I might purchase my next hat. My plan is to buy a Brick Cowboy Hat, which is similar to a cattleman cowboy hat but has a squarer crown. I also have to pick up my Gambler Cowboy hat because I left it at the hat shop to be blocked. It‘s a little too big for my head now that I have less hair. So, I’m having it resized.

I wash and rinse the cups and bowls twenty-seven times and put them away. Today is the third day of the week in the third week of the month, so it’s time to go out and buy a new cowboy hat. I decide to shop at my old standby Cowtown Cowboy Outfitters. I received an email informing me that they received some new hats just last week. And luckily, Zane Western Apparel is only about a quarter of a mile from Cowtown. And that is where my Gambler Hat is being blocked. What a great day this is going to be.

As I head towards Cowtown, I decide that while I’m buying my new hat, I’ll peruse the flea market. And then enjoy barbeque ribs for lunch. I realize that I’m humming my favorite tune. “Whoopie Yippie e. Hurrah.”

I see the sign for Cowtown, and my heart starts beating a little faster, “Yippee Ky O Ky Yea.” I yell at the top of my voice.

I disembark from my 1965 Shelby-Made Mustang. I step back three steps and sidestep five and take a long look at my baby. It’s cherry red and pristine. I love it like I loved my mother. It’s 10:45 am. I take a deep breath and stare at the Cowtown Cowboy. It’s one of my favorite icons of all time.

The cowboy had a lariat in his hand, but people kept trying to swing from it. So, they took off the lariat. I decided to peruse the flea market. I enjoy looking through the now worn and somewhat tattered stalls. Why? You ask it’s probably just a bunch of Chinese imports. Nothing is made in America anymore. Because it is part of my tradition, and that is reason enough for me.

I pick up a genuine replica of a Colt 45. I’m not a gun enthusiast, but it’s part of the Cowboy tradition. Still, I put it down and keep walking. And then I see in the distance a woman, a goddess, really. She’s wearing full cowgirl tradition. She has on amazing boots, and tight blue jeans with a red flannel shirt and matching red scarf. And the Piece de ’resistance, a creamy white Stetson hat.

I nonchalantly walk toward the table where she is standing. It’s a table covered in bright neck scarfs. I casually glance at a sky blue one and pick it up and feel the texture and put it in the light to get a better look. She looks over at me and smiles. I look at her, and I notice she has the most astonishing blue eyes. I almost gasp out loud. I smile and say, “that scarf would look great on you. It’s the exact color of your eyes.

She glances at me, and takes off the scarf, and says, “thanks, that’s a good choice.” I want to continue the conversation. But as usual, this is where I usually get tongue-tied. I continue, anyway. “Say, I was just going to get some bar-b-que ribs for lunch, would you be interested in joining me?”

“Lunch, sure, I guess that would be nice. I’m getting a little bit hungry.”  We head on over to Dutch Country Barbeque. She stops along the way and looks at tables at the wares. We arrive at the restaurant. A somewhat loud but friendly woman yells out. “Find a seat and sit-down folks. I’ll be right there.”

So, she has a seat, and then I take two steps to the right and two to the left and sit down. She gives me a funny look. I sit down and begin to move the salt and pepper into the right position. And then move the barbeque sauces next to each other. I take out a clean hand wipe and wipe the table down. I get another funny look. I begin to feel that uh-oh feeling. That I get when I notice people think I’m weird. But I don’t know what it is that I’m doing wrong.

“Well, I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Robert Leroy Cassidy. But everyone calls me Butch. May I ask your name?”

“My name is Sue Ellen Bassett. I own a small ranch about twenty miles south of here. I raise and train horses for the Rodeo here. Wait a minute, did you just tell me your name was Butch Cassidy?”

“Well, yes, is that a problem?”

“No, it’s just you know Butch Cassidy was an outlaw. Are you a descendent or something?”

“No, I had my name legally changed to Butch Cassidy when I was thirty. He was kind of a hero to me, growing up.”

“A hero, but was an outlaw?’

“Well, yes, technically, I guess that’s true. He lived by the code of the old west. It was a different time.  People lived by different rules. You know live by the gun die by the gun.” I watched her face carefully as I related this information to her.

She starts clearing her throat. It looks like she’s going to make a run for it. “Wait, I know this sounds crazy, but I’m not crazy, I just have a thing for the old west, and the gunslingers back then. That’s all. I’m not an outlaw. I‘m a retired insurance salesman from Texas. By the way, what’s your name?” I see her face relax a little.

“My name is Etta Thompson. Do you come to Cowtown very often?

“Well, about once a month, if I’m picking up a new hat.”

“Oh, that’s interesting. Do you collect hats?”

I smile, I think ok she doesn’t seem to think that’s odd. And so, I continue.” Well, yes, I do. I collect cowboy hats. And other kinds of Western paraphernalia. But my main interest is hats.”

“Well. Everyone has hobbies, and collecting hats seems a harmless enough activity. I enjoy collecting brass bells. I have about five hundred. I had more, but I sold some of them on eBay recently because I was running out of room in my house.”

“Oh, how did you start collecting bells?”

“I go to estate sales because I enjoy looking at older homes. I started to collect bells, so I had a reason to keep going to the sales. Basically, I’m curious about how other people live and the things they accumulate over a lifetime. People are fascinating to me.”

“Well, I can’t say that I’m drawn to that many people, or that I  like to talk to most people. There are very few people that I’m attracted to, I mean to feel a connection “ I feel my face getting red, can you imagine still blushing when you’re over sixty years old.

“That’s alright, I know what you mean.”

At that point, the waitress comes over. “So, what can I get you to drink? Do you need the menus, or do you know what you want?”

“Well, I would like a sweet tea and the lunch special barbeque.”

“Me too.”, Butch says and blushes.

After the food arrives, they both dig in and don’t really say anything until they finish eating. Butch feels comfortable with Etta, a rare occurrence. They both sign push their plates away and sigh simultaneously. Then they both chuckle at the same time. “That was good, says Etta.”

“Delicious as usual,” says Butch.

“Well, what are your plans for the rest of the afternoon, Butch?”

“First, I’m going to pick up a hat I’m having blocked, and then I’m going to Zane Apparel and purchase a Gambler Hat that I’ve wanted to buy for a long time.’

“That sounds like fun?”

“Would you like to come along?”

“I would love that, but I’m meeting with some guys about a horse they want me to train. I would love to get together again. In fact, I would like to invite you to come over and see my ranch. I’m really proud of it.”

As Butch starts to rise out of his chair, he lays down a twenty-dollar bill and a tip. And he says I would enjoy that very much. Any day in particular?”

“How about on Sunday afternoon, it’s the only day I don’t have a lot of work to do on the ranch, and the weather is supposed to be spectacular. We could take a ride.”

“Take a ride? I don’t really have a great deal of experience riding, But I would love to give it a try.” Butch is secretly amazed at his own words. Not to mention that he didn’t even do the two-step when he arose from the chair or clean the whole table and stack the dishes. A big smile crosses his face.

“Fantastic. Here are my card and cell number, how about around 12:30 pm. I’m a pretty good cook if I do say so myself. I’ll make something special for us to eat.”

“Wow, I mean great, I look forward to it. I’ve had a great day. I look forward to seeing you on Sunday.”

They walk side by side out the door. Butch has never felt more alive and has a bounce to his step that he didn’t know existed before. As he is about to say goodbye, Eta leans in and kisses him on the cheek. I’ll see you then Butch; I look forward to it.”

“Me too, Eta. I look forward to it. See you Sunday.”

As he starts walking away, he says, “Hell, maybe I’ll get two new hats.”

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