Emily's Diary: Confessions of an Emotional Predator, Page 3

Saturday 8-13

  Dear Diary,

  Well it's been a week since the incident with ‘that woman’ and I've pretty much forgiven Riley for his unwitting role in humiliating me. Though as I've told him forgiven does not mean forgotten.

  In the meantime he’s sworn to me up and down that he has no intentions of calling or contacting Gloria, and has gone as far as tearing up her card in my presence. Though who's to say he hasn't written the number down elsewhere.

  At this suggestion he just threw his arms straight out to each side in crucifix style while hanging his head down to where his chin rested upon his chest. I got the hint and half-laughingly said, "Alright Mr. Dramatic, I believe you." He smiled like a little boy knowing his antic had succeeded. At that the subject was dropped and has not been alluded to since.

  If any good came out of this incident it had to be that I'm back. Back meaning that my head is clear and I feel like my old self again, like before I met Riley.

  Now don't get me wrong, I still have strong feelings for Riley. Some might even call it love. But these feelings aren't fogging up my brain cells anymore.

  I can now function normally again without thoughts of Riley constantly interrupting the flow of information circulating through my system. And I can, if necessary, even go for a day or two without needing to feel the touch of his hand or hearing the sound of his voice.

  Fortunately he’s not reached this level yet. If anything he’s more smitten in love with me than before. I like that. I like being in control. In fact, I need it.

  Being out of control in love is great for some people. And now that I've experienced it for myself over the last several weeks I can appreciate its appeal.

  There comes with it an airy sense of irresponsibility. A nothing can upset me and the world is perfect feeling that acts as an opiate on the nervous system. All worries dissolve, all troubles disappear, and all that matters is the person you love.

  The mysterious thing to me though is that somehow, while you're in this state of euphoria, the world manages to continue on as usual. The sun comes up, the sun goes down, your laundry gets done and your bills get paid. You may not remember how or when, but your brain is still able to process the mundane duties of life while your heart is away on holiday.

  And when you finally get back all you can say is WOW! …that was great. I had all of that fun and yet the rest of my life is still in one piece. It seems kind of like cheating somehow. So maybe, just maybe mind you, I'll let myself experience it again someday. But right now it just feels good to be back.

  Saturday 8/20

  Dear Diary,

  Last night I took a much needed break from Riley to spend an evening out with my friend Amy. For the last month and a half or so Riley and I had been exclusively together every free moment. So when Amy called yesterday morning and suggested going out to the Rush Street area after work, I nearly wet my pants with anticipation of an evening free of romance.

  Riley of course didn't share in my enthusiasm, but reluctantly acquiesced to the inevitable (AKA me getting my way) and the evening was set.

  Amy was already waiting for me downstairs as I exited the revolving doors of the John Hancock Building. Her long jet black hair blowing in the wind as she waved at me from the driver's seat of her new red Mustang convertible (A gift from daddy).

  A minute later we were speeding north up Michigan Avenue on our way to what I thought would be a quiet relaxing evening, devoid of romance and devoid of men.

  Well as it turned out it was devoid of neither. And as I sit here this early morning penning my diary, the thoughts and memories concerning last night are just beginning to reformulate in my still throbbing skull.

  Things started innocently enough. First to Butch McGuire’s for nachos and margaritas, then on to She-Nannigans for Long Island Ice Teas. As we chatted and laughed about the oddity of life's comic adventures, I began feeling gloriously liberated from all the emotional chaos that comes from romantic involvements.

  Liberated that is until I came to notice two sets of eyes glaring at us. One set was blue and the other a deep set brown. Blue eyes was looking towards Amy, but Brown Eyes was gazing squarely at moi’.

  I endeavored to ignore them, but try as I may those brown eyes kept diverting my attention. After awhile it was becoming almost impossible for me to put together a comprehensible sentence. Enough, I thought finally, and suggested to Amy that we try another establishment.

  As we walked across Division Street on our way to Bootleggers, I casually glanced behind us. There they were, two sets of eyes following us. Brown eyes was in the lead with blue eyes tentatively tagging along a few steps behind. It was at this point that I decided to bring this little drama to the attention of Amy. BIG MISTAKE!

  Amy, who by now was getting a bit giggly, turned abruptly on her heels and waved merrily at the two sets of eyes.

  "Hi Brown Eyes", she bellowed. "And Hellooo Blue Eyes."

  The impact of this incident resounded mightily throughout the remainder of the evening.

  Both Blue Eyes and Brown Eyes were initially taken aback by this sudden turn of the tide, but Brown Eyes recovered quickly. Within a few seconds he had made our duet a trio. Soon after Blue Eyes somewhat more reluctantly joined our little party, but only after Brown Eyes had beckoned him over for the third time.

  "So here we are", says Amy astutely. I look at her vaguely, not sure I recognize the girl who normally is so refined and reserved in her dealings with men.

  Then I turn towards Brown Eyes and begin to say something witty. I stop... something familiar here…his detached expression, his analytical brow, his contrary mouth.

  What's that? No, It wasn't possible…but it was…kindred spirits. He was me and I was he. We both saw it simultaneously and stood frozen for time unbeknownst reflecting back each other's gaze.

  "HEY YOU TWO…Snap out of it".

  It was Amy's voice that had invaded our universe, momentarily breaking the incantation that had woven itself around his soul and mine. He gazes once more deeply into my eyes, and then surprisingly drops to one knee and speaks his first words to me.

  "She stands alone in regal grace, her soul a web of embroidered lace, I bow a knee and kiss her hand and accept her rule upon my land."

  The intriguing thing about his little recital was not in the words that he used, but that he spoke them in all earnestness without the glint of a smile ever crossing his lips.

  And my reaction...I BLUSHED. Can you believe it? I don't ever remember blushing in my life. This was embarrassing.

  We went into Bootleggers and sat down near the window. When the guys left the table to get drinks, Amy turned and looked hard at me.

  "Emily, what's up with you? You look as if you've seen a ghost or something."

  I just shrugged and gave some mumbled reply. My brain was working at maximum capacity trying to process the latest developments and I had no time for explanations or meaningless chatter.

  By the time they came back I was still somewhat foggy on things. I decided to say as little as possible until I could fully grasp the significance of this encounter.

  I wanted to learn as much about my soul twin as possible, and the best way to learn was to listen. At least that's what my grandfather used to tell me. So I listened and I learned.

  The first thing I learned was that his name was Christopher. He was twenty-six years old and worked as a commodities broker at the Board of Trade.

  He had two major pastimes. One was photography, and the other was climbing mountains. He hoped one day to make his living as a photographer, and I guess as with most mountain climbers, he wanted to climb Mt. Everest.

  On the romantic front he straightforwardly told me he was seeing a couple of women currently, but that these relationships were only casual at least as far as he was concerned.

  Where were these women tonight, I had asked. "Home pouting, I imagine", he replied casually, without a hint of bravado or braggadocio.

  He in turn asked m
e about my status and I openly told him about Riley and my feelings towards him.

  "Well I wouldn't want to come between true love", he exclaimed after I had finished. "There's so little of it these days isn't there."

  Again, though his words could have been construed as mocking there was no such innuendo in his voice. Only an even toned expression of his current thoughts on the matter.

  This propensity for his tone of voice belying his words remained consistent throughout the evening, so I can only assume that this is merely a part of his manner and not something he had pulled out of his hat just for me.

  As the night wore on I drank and talked much more than I had planned, and by evening's end I was pretty much sloshed. Only after I got home did I begin to wonder what had happened to the girl who never ever lost control.

  I'm thinking now that with Christopher there, alert and vigilant, that I was somehow free to let myself go. After all there were two of us now, kindred spirits, conjugal souls, aggregate egos.

  How many of us did it take to keep an eye on the rest of humanity and to make sure that the universe kept operating as usual?

  And even if I did tell him more than I meant to, he probably would have surmised most of it anyway. Even if he didn't, nothing would have surprised him much, just as nothing about him much surprised me.

  The only real surprise was that we had discovered each other at all, and that this discovery took place at Rush Street, the long-time social meat market of Chicago.

  Knowing the types of personas and mind sets we both shared, I can't help believe that we had a better chance of meeting at the North Pole than in a place where casual relationships develop as commonly as monsoons in Bangladesh and foggy days in London.

  Some may ask why enter into a relationship in which the sense of mystery and hope of intrigue is so minuscule. Where is the excitement, where is the drama, where is the discovery?

  My answer to this is that the payoff in any relationship is not in the discovery of the other, but in the discovery of self. And in our particular case this can be especially true.

  Here was a one-time opportunity where by viewing each other, almost mirror images, we could in turn see how others view us.

  How will it all end up? Of that I am uncertain. My guess would be that after we each learn all we can from interrelating with each other, we will disengage and go our separate ways.

  That's what my head says anyway. My heart on the other hand might believe that I have found my consummate man, and that this is the start of a lifelong romance.

  Which of these views is accurate will only become apparent with time. As for now Christopher has my name and my phone number, and we have a dinner date scheduled for Tuesday at seven.

  I know what you're thinking, Dear Diary…What about Riley? Well, what about Riley? I still feel the same way about him as I did before meeting Christopher.

  I am still confident that, in time, Riley will develop into the man I need him to be, and that when he does I’ll be able to give myself unto him heart and soul.

  But in the meantime this thing with Christopher is something that I simply must do. And if Riley can't handle it then that's the way it goes.

  After reading over my last couple statements I can see that I'm probably being very unrealistic about Riley understanding this arrangement or of going along with it even if he did. But if I am to make this one final journey into self-exploration it's a risk I'll have to take.

  It’s said that great rewards never come without risks. I can't help but wonder though if this time the risks may end up costing me more than I can possibly imagine.

  Monday 8/22

  Dear Diary,

  As I surmised, though not exactly genius work, Riley did not take the news of this new twist in our relationship very well. In fact he suggested I leave before he told me what he really thought of me and my new kindred spirit.

  I left, but not before saying that he was being closed-minded and selfish in his reaction.

  As the door slammed behind me I got the distinct impression that this door might be closed to me forever. It was at this time that I first sensed a degree of sadness and loneliness that I had never experienced before and hope to never experience again.

  When the full impact of this pall came over me I was still standing on the stoop outside his apartment, and my first instinct was to storm back in and throw myself at his feet begging his forgiveness and promising to never, ever do anything of this sort again.

  This desire however passed quickly as my ever diligent brain reassured me that I was doing the best thing for everyone involved, including Riley. And even if he wasn't aware of it now, one day he would see this as the thing that was most responsible for building the foundation of our future life together.

  As I walked back to my apartment I was all but oblivious to the rush of pedestrians still making their way home from work this early evening. My mind was completely occupied, replaying over and over my choice of words with which I approached Riley on this matter.

  My original idea was to broach the subject delicately, explaining my thoughts and feelings each step of the way and in the end reassuring him of my love and my optimistic outlook for our future.

  But somewhere along the way I concluded that long-winded explanations and heartfelt meanderings are both useless and self-defeating. It would come off as weak and condescending causing Riley to lose all respect for me, not only as a romantic partner but also as a person.

  In the process I would probably end up losing a great deal of respect for myself as well. Then where would either of us be.

  Therefore I decided to just tell him straight-out that I had met what I considered a kindred-spirit, and that if he had any sensitivity to my situation he would allow me to explore this scenario to the degree needed to satisfy my need for self-knowledge.

  I assured him that nothing in my feelings for him had changed, and that in the end I would be all the more able to give myself fully to him.

  Evidently this was a major blow to his still insecure male ego, and after a long period of silence and inner contemplation he uttered his veiled threat for me to leave before slamming the door behind me.

  I can't help but wonder how this present scenario is going to play out. Will Riley and I stay together or have we already split up? If we have split up, will it be temporary or permanent?

  And what about me and Christopher? Will we remain together just long enough to learn more about ourselves before splitting up and going our separate ways, or are we destined to live out our lives together constantly discovering new and vital information about our similarities, and yes our differences as well?

  Stay tuned, Dear Diary. I have the feeling the next few months are going to be very, very interesting.

  Tuesday 8-23

  Dear Diary,

  What a thoroughly entertaining and enlightening evening I spent tonight with Christopher. We both live in lively and invigorating parts of town. He lives in a loft condo in the River North area, and me of course just south of Wrigleyville.

  But anyway, considering it was our first date Christopher suggested that we make it more adventurous, and in turn more memorable, by travelling to someplace totally foreign to both of us.

  So we decided that from my place we would just hop on a Clark Street bus and head north until we saw a restaurant that fit the bill. We wound up at Reza's, a Persian restaurant up around Foster and Clark in the Andersonville neighborhood.

  After dinner we discovered a small art gallery which displayed works primarily dealing with women's issues. Though some of the pieces may have proved threatening to that thing we know as the male ego, Christopher showed an amazing talent for empathy and understanding of what these women were trying to express.

  A couple of times he seemed more aware of the artist's statement than even I was…how truly refreshing.

  I saw him to be an open-minded individual who wasn't afraid of expressing his opinion no matter what reproach he may encount
er because of it. This was never more evident than when he confronted one of the displayed artists about something he disagreed with regarding her work.

  Again, as I had seen in our first encounter, his comments were so direct and biting that they easily could have been construed as mean-spirited and offensive. But when delivered in conjunction with his calming cadence and docile demeanor one could only take his words as an honest expression of how he truly felt.

  In the end the artist was left with only one appropriate response, which was to thank him politely for his thoughtful critique of her work.

  I learned from this experience that on the whole people appreciate an honest and forthright opinion, as long as it is not delivered in a threatening manner or that it not mask some hidden bias or personal agenda.

  Unfortunately most people are unable to detach themselves from these elements of human nature, and most comments expressed towards or about others, whether negative or positive, are almost always made with a large degree of self-interest attached.

  At present I would have to include myself in this self-involved crowd, but I plan on working long and hard to overcome my proclivity for such behavior.

  The remainder of the evening was spent in quiet conversation, which ranged from discussing our most disgusting personal habits to our views on love and sex. Our slants on most everything were remarkably consistent.

  The evening ended at my door with only a warm handshake, though he did blow me a kiss as he was turning to leave.

  Now as I sit here snuggled up in my big red chair, I've become suddenly aware of a warm glow emanating from inside me. What this feeling is I can not say. But whatever it is I hope I keep feeling it for a long, long time.

  Sunday 8/28

  Dear Diary,

  I have tried several times during the past week to contact Riley regarding our status as a couple. Each time I have been greeted by that God awful answering machine explaining to me that Riley wasn't available to talk at this time, and asking me to please leave a message.

  The last message I left questioned the answering machine's right to exist, and contained a not so veiled threat that it may soon find its inner workings strewn up and down Wellington Avenue or lying at the bottom of the Lincoln Park Lagoon. To this the damn machine beeped in my ear and hung up…Stupid machine.

  Wednesday 8/31

  Dear Diary,

  Last night Christopher and I went on our second date and I asked him why Tuesday night was the only time we could get together. He told me that he had other commitments and that for now Tuesday was really his only free evening.

  "What commitments?” I asked, with an interrogating intonation.

  He gave me one of those looks that needs no words, but then he supplied the words anyway.

  "Give me a break Emily. I told you from the beginning that I was seeing a couple of other girls. Don't start playing that betrayed female bit on me now."

  Of course I had been aware of his other relationships, but my pride was at stake here. Now that he had found me, what interest could he possibly have in spending time with these lesser women?

  Normally I would never tolerate such an arrangement, but my role in this relationship is radically different from any other I’ve been involved in before.

  I am the follower, not the leader. I am the moon to his sun. I am the lesser of two evils. In other words, he’s in control and I’m not. Needless to say the subject of date night was dropped.

  We spent much of the evening out with Christopher's best friend and his wife. They were both nice and all that, and I did actually get along with the wife surprisingly well. But I had been expecting to spend the evening alone with Christopher. So even though he came back to my place for a late night coffee before heading home, I was still left with an empty hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  The date ended in pretty much the same fashion as our first date, a warm grasping of my hand and a blown kiss goodnight. This normally would be more than enough to satisfy my physical desires, but I found myself wanting more…much more.

  What's happening to me? Why am I reacting to him in such an uncharacteristic manner? It’s all so foreign and yet terribly familiar somehow.

  When I entered into this relationship with Christopher I had done so to gain a better view of myself thru him. I don't know what I had expected, but so far I'm not sure I like what I see.

  Saturday 9-3

  Dear Diary,

  I called Christopher tonight knowing full well that he wasn't at home. I called just to hear his voicemail greeting.

  I know what you're thinking Dear Diary. How pathetic can I get? Yet I was totally unable to stop myself from doing this. I was compelled by natural instincts and no amount of reasoning could keep me from making that call.

  This newly discovered compulsive side of my nature is really quite fascinating and my mind is coming up with all sorts of analogical concoctions to help me understand exactly what it is that's going on inside of me.

  I always turn to analogies to navigate my way through uncharted waters, and more times than not they bring immediate clarity to my dilemma. After my analysis I can usually make the decisions most prudent to leading me back to land and safety.

  For instance, in this particular situation there are two analogies that most clearly pinpoint my current position.

  Analogy #1

  Christopher is causing some type of chemical reaction inside my brain which is creating within me uncontrollable bursts of emotional explosions. I'm like one part oxygen reacting to Christopher's two parts Hydrogen. The result being that my once airy, carefree essence has suddenly been changed into a pitiable puddle of stagnant water.

  Analogy #2

  I feel like I'm watching myself in a movie. I am completely aware of what's happening to my character on screen, but totally incapable of crossing the invisible barrier to communicate this knowledge to my film image.

  The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that my movie character is going to have to figure things out for herself. The only thing I can do is just sit in my seat and enjoy the action. So, who's going for popcorn?

  Monday 9-5

  Dear Diary,

  Two weeks have gone by and still no word from Riley. I'm starting to worry that when and if I'm ready to re-cross that bridge, I might find it's been burnt.

  Oh well, no turning back now. I'll just continue my journey and see where it leads me. In the end I may not wind up anywhere near Riley, so what's the point of worrying about it.

  There's not much to update concerning my relationship with Christopher. He called me today at work to confirm our Tuesday night get together. During our brief conversation I made a point of stressing that two was company and anymore would be a crowd. He laughed and promised that tomorrow night he was all mine.

  I thanked him, if you can believe that, and then tried to end the conversation before he did. NO SUCH LUCK.

  By the time the words had formulated in my head, he had already said "Gotta go Hon", and hung up. Boy, he's good.

  I took out my emotional frustrations on Gregory by standing him up for lunch, and then by telling him he was being annoying when he came up later to find out what had happened.

  Poor Gregory…Why does he keep making me hurt him like this? I'm actually starting to feel sorry for the guy…but not that much.

  Oh, and my other ex-work romance Derrick came by to announce that he had just gotten engaged. Turns out that it's to some girl he's been dating for the last two years.

  Funny he never mentioned her while he was trying to lure me into a cozy little roll in the hay a couple of months back. Well maybe I'll mention it to her in the receiving line if I'm lucky enough to be invited to the wedding.

  Knowing Derrick, he’ll probably invite all his ex-girlfriends just to make the statement: Sorry girls, but if you had played your cards right this could have been you. I doubt there will be many tears shed by the women in attendance, except for maybe the "lucky" bride.
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  Well, off to bed. I don't want to be drowsy for my big date tomorrow. If I'm boring Christopher may bump me out of my night.

  Tuesday 9-6

  Dear Diary,

  Another date with Christopher and another pin in my voodoo doll heart.

  The evening began well enough with Christopher giving me the good news that Girlfriend #2 was out of the picture, thus moving me up into her Friday night slot. He told me that he hadn't heard from her in 4 days, so in his book she was history.

  Just to be funny I "confessed" to him that in order to move up on his date list I had found out #2's identity and had her knocked off. He laughed and said he'd be sure to tell #1 to sleep with one eye open from now on.

  Then he tells me that it was a good thing anyway, because he met a girl on the train yesterday and needed my Tuesday spot for her. I asked sarcastically why he just didn't move her into the vacated Friday spot, and he says "Oh, Friday has to be earned. I can't just give it away." Then as he saw me taking him too seriously he just broke out laughing.

  "It's a joke Emily. I didn't meet anyone on the train. In fact I'd love to go out with you on both Tuesdays and Fridays if you want. And to let you in on a little secret, number one is standing on pretty shaky ground herself. So who knows, you may soon wind up being the only girl on my dance card and that hasn't happened in a long, long time"

  At this latest revelation my spirits brightened considerably. We enjoyed a wonderful evening, first at Zum Deutschen Eck, a huge German restaurant on Southport, where Christopher actually got up and led the singing. Not just in English, but also in German, which he speaks fluently.

  Then we walked over to Pops For Champaign on Sheffield. It's a neighborhood establishment that serves up live jazz as well as, of course, very tasty Champaign. I had never been there before but after tonight it will always hold a special place in my heart.

  It was there where Christopher first put his arm around me. And it was there where Christopher first kissed me.

  After Pops we walked hand-in-hand back to my place. We stood and talked for about ten minutes or so before he said that he had to be going. I had expected another kiss, but instead I received the usual handshake and a tender good night.

  "Hey", I said, as he turned to leave, "How about a kiss for the road."

  He just looked back at me with that sad smile dancing on his lips and said, "You had your kiss for tonight beautiful. You don't want to overdose now do you?"

  With that he was gone and I was left standing alone at my door, licking my wounds and swallowing hard what remained of my pride.

  Thursday 9-8

  Dear Diary,

  Why can't I get the thought of Christopher out of my mind? Is it his charm and good looks that so fascinate me, or is it the lethargic way in which he treats me that makes me want him even more?

  Of course it’s largely the latter. I know because this is the same character trait that attracts so many men to me. And not only attracts them, but captivates and mesmerizes them into a state of uncontrollable bliss.

  When a man is under my spell he acts against all reason, following the irrational beating of his heart instead of regarding the sensible advice of his head.

  My charms work at a subliminal level, constantly probing the weaknesses in my victim’s willpower while operating unseen and undetected in the guise of innocent flirtation.

  Though most of this talent comes naturally to me, I have worked long and hard at honing my attack skills while simultaneously insulating my heart to protect it from the invasion of those two most dangerous emotions, sentiment and desire.

  Up until a few weeks ago I thought my skills were unequaled in this regard. However, it is quite apparent to me now that in both offensive and defensive capabilities Christopher is light years ahead of me. I’m more than just humbled. I stand in awe.

  When I entered into this relationship I truly believed that each of us had something to teach the other. How silly I was. I have nothing to teach him that he doesn't already know. He is the master, the Buddha, and I am just the lowly headstrong student believing I knew everything when in fact I know absolutely nothing…nothing at all.

  Saturday 9-10

  Dear Diary,

  At this moment the events of last evening seem like a horrid nightmare. And as I sit here this early morning in the secure sanctuary of my big red chair by the window looking out on the just waking streets below, I am only now beginning to recall the sequence of events that led up to my humiliating defeat.

  Christopher and I had planned to go out last night for dinner and a show, but things began going downhill from the start. First he called and said he was going to be late and that maybe we could just go to the show.

  Then he calls later to tell me he may not be able to make it at all. No excuse. No explanation. Finally he calls me at 9:30 and says that he's at Max Tavern on Racine and George (about 7 blocks from me), and asks me if I want to meet him there.

  Well I'm out the door and down the stairs in about 10 seconds flat. Damn, no bus in sight and three cabs pass me by. Then it begins to drizzle. Fine, I'll walk.

  As I hurry west on Belmont I’m aware that no matter how fast my feet move they don't seem to be moving swiftly enough to keep pace with the frantic beat of my overwrought heart.

  By the time I reach Racine I'm gasping for air, and the drizzle has evolved into a steady shower. Come on I urge my body, only four blocks to go.

  When I finally get to Max's I'm soaked to the bone and hobbling on an ankle that I sprained about three blocks back. As I strain to read my watch through my rain splattered, round-rimmed glasses, I'm despondent to find that I've already lost 20 valuable minutes of Christopher time.

  I take only a couple of seconds to get myself together (I actually needed a couple of days) before bursting through the door.

  Glowing with anxious anticipation, I desperately scan the crowded room trying to catch a glimpse of him. Where is he? WHERE IS HE?

  Then I see him sitting in a booth by the window, his back to the door. Seated with him are two women and another man. I, still dripping like so much newly washed laundry on a clothesline, walk up and tap him on the shoulder. He casually looks back and smiles.

  "Emily." And then he sees me fully, "What on earth happened? You look like something the cat dragged in".

  I just stand there dripping on myself for a moment or two, and then say, "If you haven't noticed, it’s raining out."

  He glances out the window and then back at me.

  "Why didn't you just take a cab sweetheart? I would have paid for it." He gives a sideways glance to his companions at the table.

  "There weren't any cabs", I respond. "And there weren't any buses, trains, boats, planes, or dog sleds either. Anyway, I'm here, so can't you just say you're glad to see me and order me a drink."

  "Of course I'm glad to see you, Emily. What do you want?"

  "A vodka martini", I say. "Make it a double."

  With that I plop myself down in the chair next to Christopher and watch all my aggravation flow off of me and into the steadily expanding puddle of water on the floor below. When I look back up I find four sets of eyes all gazing in my direction.

  "Emily", Christopher softly addresses me. "These are friends of mine from work. I forgot that tonight was our once a month get together."

  He looks at me for my reaction and then reaches out and takes hold of my still moist hand.

  "I'm sorry", he says in his sweet little boy voice. "I hope you're not mad."

  His hand feels so secure and his delicate caress so soothing that I instantly feel the anger draining from my body. And once I look up into his wonderfully sensitive brown eyes I am powerless not to forgive him completely.

  "It's ok", I hear myself say. "I needed a shower anyway." This was when the siren went off in my head.

  WHAT WAS I SAYING??

  I had not only allowed Christopher to humiliate me. I was now taking an active role in humiliating myself as well.
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  I sat in quiet contemplation after that, only half aware of the conversation that had resumed among the 4 friends who were now almost oblivious to my presence.

  This was surely the low point of my young life, and the only thing that kept me from breaking down completely was my previous analogy on the subject.

  I kept repeating in my head, it's only a movie…it's only a movie…it's only a God-awful movie.

  The party broke up after about an hour or so and Christopher suggested that we get me home and into some dry clothing. After arriving back at my place the rest of the evening is a blur. But rest assured there is no doubt in my mind about what happened.

  After spending the last few weeks turning me into an emotional cripple, Christopher had offered himself up as my only possible crutch. He had managed through coercion and manipulation to strip me down to my most raw, humanistic elements.

  And now, after reducing me to my lowest common denominator he takes me. He takes me with all the savagery and baseness of the cruelest rape. Not in the physical sense, mind you, for his words are tender and his touch sublime. The rape is of the spirit, the soul, the very fiber of my being.

  And when the final blow is struck and the victory complete, he puts on his clothes, blows me a kiss, and walks out the door leaving behind only fragmentary traces of the battle that has just ensued.

  The only physical evidence remaining is the gutted, naked corpse of the battle's lone casualty, a frightened little girl lying face down in a pool of her own tears.

  And the only audible sound, besides the girl's muffled whimpering is the gurgling of rain water as it descends ceaselessly through the rusted drainpipes and down onto the dark lonely street below.

  Wednesday 9-14

  Dear Diary,

  My life is like a shattered piece of glass. Its millions of fragments scattered about on the floor, all too sharp to pick up yet each too valuable to sweep away. The only person I believe capable of piecing them back together is Christopher, and he appears completely unwilling to do so.

  I have tried repeatedly to break through his voicemail barrier, but to little or no avail. The one time I did manage to get through he said he couldn't talk and promised to call me back. That was two days ago.

  Why is he doing this to me? I've lost everything to him and now he won't give me the chance to get it back. I hate him. No, I love him. No, I love him and hate myself. God, what's to become of me?

  I have lost every ounce of self-value and self-respect. I am lower than the lowest creature on the food chain…smaller than the smallest atom in the universe…emptier than the largest void in the galaxy. I am an insignificant speck of dust on the time line of human history…worthy of nothing and guilty of everything.

  Friday 9-16

  Dear Diary,

  Day 7 and still no word from Christopher. I desperately want to be with him. To gaze longingly into his deep set brown eyes and feel the touch of his soft soothing caresses.

  I remember that not so long ago I desired nothing more than the quiet solitude of my own company. Not a man alive I believed could ever infiltrate the sterile vacuum that I had created around my heart. A vacuum that no emotional arsenal could penetrate and no sexual battering ram could break thru.

  Though it was Riley who actually first breached my defenses, it was Christopher who afterwards entered thru the opening to ravage my heart and desecrate my soul.

  Without Riley there would probably have been no Christopher, and I would still be my old disaffected self. Now I hate them both. Woe is me…woe, woe is me.

  Saturday 9/17

  Dear Diary,

  Today was to be my first relaxing day in awhile, but it turned out to be anything but. Amy had planned out our agenda which was designed to, in her words, "pull me out of my sullen stupor".

  Her means of doing this was apparently to drag me all over the city until I was so tired that by the end of the day the only thought on my mind would be to crawl back home and collapse into my bed. But now that I'm here, Dear Diary, I am compelled to share with you all of today's glorious events.

  Amy got to my place around 10 am, and after a quick cup of coffee I was ready to become un-stupefied. Our first stop was the Century Mall, at Clark and Diversey, where Amy helped me pick out some new shoes and a purse to match.

  Then for a more upscale approach we made our way to North Michigan Avenue where we shopped our way store-by-store up and down the Magnificent Mile. From Bloomingdale's to Nordstrom’s to Saks Fifth Avenue, we pummeled the racks of clothing, trying on everything that wasn't nailed down or bolted to the floor.

  By the time we had zipped the last zipper and buttoned the last button I felt better. Actually I felt great. Amy treated me to lunch in the atrium of the Saks building before we headed on to our next stop, the East Bank Club, of which Amy and her family are members.

  After receiving a full body massage and taking a dip in the whirlpool, my mind had become elevated to a state of semi-consciousness, and I began to feel inter-connected to everything around me.

  I remember vividly the sensation of sitting in the sauna and watching all my vaporous troubles drifting upwards through the translucent air. There they danced merrily about my head in what seemed a choreographed ballet, before floating effortlessly heavenward and dissipating into nothingness.

  For the first time since I don't know when, the cloud of emotional turmoil was beginning to lift and I was beginning to see clearly again.

  Unfortunately, the next thing that I saw clearly was the last thing on earth that I needed to see, or so I thought, at the time. As Amy and I sat at the bar sipping our juice and extolling the virtues of money, who strolls thru the door but Christopher.

  In his left hand he held a tennis racket, and in his right the hand of some tall floozy redhead who looked as if she just walked off the pages of Esquire magazine.

  "OH MY GOD!” I said, turning to Amy, "Christopher at 12 o'clock high."

  Amy, reacting quickly to the situation, tried to shuffle me out before he saw us, but I was already in full battle regalia. I'm not sure where the strength came from, but deep down inside me I felt the first tremors of a volcanic eruption about to explode.

  With fire in my eyes and smoke coming out my ears I rose from my seat and seethed towards the laughing, unsuspecting couple. As he turned and caught his first glimpse of me Christopher's smile dissipated and the color began to drain rapidly from his cheeks.

  In all the time we had spent together this was the first time that I ever saw his face betray him. Seizing upon this moment of weakness I struck the first blow.

  "Well, look what the cat dragged in this time", I began. "a big, baneful, bogus rat." POW!

  As I knew he would, he quickly regained his composure.

  "Well, if it isn't little Emily", he calmly fired back. "The last time I saw you, you were wearing far less sarcasm." WHAP!

  My turn…"The last time I saw you, Christopher darling, you were a wolf donning sheep's clothing. But if I remember correctly, you kept getting your tail caught in the zipper. (I pause) I see today you're sporting your grandma guise while trying to get close to Little Red Riding Hood here. Why grandma, what big lies you have." WHAM! POP!

  CAPTAIN CHRISTOPHER, CAPTAIN CHRISTOPHER! SHIELDS ARE DOWN TO 40% AND FAILING SIR!

  It was apparent that Christopher had momentarily gone into system shut down, for when he opened his mouth to speak nothing came out. Whatever witty reply it was that his brain was trying to relay to his mouth, it was left dangling precariously on his lips.

  Normally he would have had no trouble defending himself in such a verbal joust, but I had caught him off guard. Not only was he unprepared to encounter me under these circumstances, but after our last conjunction he had left me for dead. Now here I was, just one week later, emotionally alive and kicking.

  Also he would have rather engaged me one-on-one rather than in the company of a female companion. The redhead was excess baggage in this melee and I had already
been able to utilize her as a part of my cannon fodder against him.

  Though I had gained a temporary advantage in our soul to soul, tête-à-tête, I knew better than to count him out too soon. So I braced myself for the full frontal assault that would be momentarily forthcoming, and I must say he didn't disappoint me.

  "Why Emily dearest", he responded after a few moments of quiet reflection. "I see you've been working on your fairy tale metaphors since we last met. Very good!

  I must confess though that you really disappoint me. Is this anyway to thank me for helping you break in your female equipment. I thought that after you realized what you had there you'd probably be out trying to find buyers for it on various street corners around the city.

  I mean if you don't know how to use it, you might as well sell it to someone who does." The redhead suppresses a giggle.

  He continues. "And in the unlikely event you plan on using it again someday, just let me offer you one word of advice. Practice Emily…Practice a lot.

  And oh, I do hope you weren't one of those girls who was saving herself until she fell in love and got married. I wouldn't want to be the one who came between true love."

  A feigned look of sorrow passes over his face. "There's so little of it these days."

  He pauses slightly to let the full effect of his words sink in.

  "You know Emily, he concluded, if I were you I'd get down on my hands and knees and crawl back to that Riley fellow. But you'd better hurry, a catch as good as him will probably be snatched up any year now."

  WHAM, BAM, THANK YOU MAAM!

  It was time to finish this once and for all, and the only thing I had left to hit him with was the emptiness we both shared. An emptiness created by fear… fear of feeling love, fear of feeling need, and fear of feeling pain. Basically it was the fear of feeling anything, anything at all.

  It was this fear I knew that was the driving force behind both of our unfortunate natures. It was this fear, and the emptiness it created within us, that I had to confront him with now.

  "Oh you are so clever, Christopher darling. But behind all your cleverness lies a heart of crass, sharing nothing, giving nothing, feeling nothing. Sure you have victory after victory over the kingdoms of fragile women and wide-eyed girls. But for all of your conquest you have nothing in the treasury.

  You take no spoil, no booty, nothing which endures past the moment of victory. Like a ravenous carnivore, you feed on the fallen victim until you’re full. Then you leave the partially gnawed carcass behind and exposed to be picked at afterwards by the passing scavengers that happen upon it.

  And after this emotional fodder has been digested and discharged from your system, all you’re left with is an empty hollow feeling in your cowardly heart, and an insatiable hunger to conquer and feed again.

  Your one great satisfaction in all this is that the victims you leave for dead are in more pain and agony than you are. Well I'm sorry to disappoint you this time, Christopher dearest, but when you left me I still had just enough life left in me to come back and kick your ass."

  KAPOW! GAME, SET, AND MATCH, NEWS AT TEN.

  With that and a look of utmost defiance, I returned to the bar, gathered my belongings, and stormed right past the still open-mouthed Christopher and out the door. Amy followed close behind me, a new sense of awe washing over her face.

  Sunday 9/18

  Dear Diary,

  After my stunning upset victory over Christopher at the club yesterday my mood has improved dramatically. In fact I believe that I’m all but over whatever emotional virus that I had caught from him.

  But even though my tactics in defeating him were flawless, I am now faced with the prospect of confronting my own cowardly despicable heart. You see, everything that I accused Christopher of is just as easily applicable to me as well.

  For all the relationships that I've been involved in during my short lifespan, I have nothing to show except a bread crumb trail of broken hearts and a diary full of emotional lab notes.

  I've treated romance as some sort of disease, that by analyzing and categorizing all the experimental data I could gather, I could someday discover a cure for.

  Now looking back over everything I've been thru, or put others thru, I can see that my hypothesis was wrong…Dead wrong.

  Romance isn't a disease needing a cure. Romance is the cure, the cure for all the mundane emptiness that the world has to offer. Yes it can cause pain, but is pain any worse than no feeling at all?

  And sure there are other things in life besides romance, but which of them raises us above our human condition and elevates our soul to almost heaven like felicity.

  Romance isn't necessary for survival. It's only necessary for living. For without romance the heart eventually shrivels up and dies, leaving only an empty selfish corpse unable to give or receive love.

  Looking back over these last few sentences I might be overstating my case a bit, but in any case I have concluded that it’s better for me to open myself up to romance and risk the pain then to continue shielding my heart and wake up every morning for the rest of my life feeling nothing but emptiness.

  Well maybe easier said than done, but at least it's a path to follow. And here as in any journey the first step is the most important.

  Therefore I’ve decided that I must return to Riley and see if he would be willing to give our relationship one more chance. I mean what do I have to lose that I haven't already lost? HMMM…maybe I should rephrase that.

  Monday 9/19

  Dear Diary,

  A PLAY: ACT II

  [The scene is a Brownstone apartment building located just east of the intersection of Broadway and Wellington. As the sun slowly sets in the west, a bespectacled young woman is seen apprehensively approaching the main entrance of the building, her faithful dog following close behind.

  She reaches the front door and tentatively extends her right index finger towards the buzzer. After a slight hesitation she urges her finger forward and pushes the little white button which is simply labeled "R. Wells"]

  Male voice over intercom: Hello, hello.

  Young woman: Well, some things just never change, do they Mr. Doubletalk.

  Male voice: Emily? [Slight pause] Emily, Is that you?

  Emily: Well who else could it be silly?

  Male voice: Uh, nobody, I guess.

  Emily: [After another longer pause] Well Riley, aren't you going to invite us up.

  Riley: [Somewhat confusedly] Us?

  Emily: Yes, us. I have Maxwell with me.

  Riley: [Still another pause] Uh…So how is Maxwell anyway?

  Emily: [A slight irritation in her voice] Well if you'd let us in maybe you can ask him yourself.

  Riley: [After yet another long pause] Uh…Yeah, sure, come on up. Come on up. It's OK.

  Emily: [Under her breath as the buzzer sounds and she pushes open the door] Well it's about bloody time.

  [Emily with Maxwell in tow climbs the double flight of stairs and stands before the yet to be opened door of Riley's apartment.]

  Emily: [Yelling thru the door] So Riley, are you going to open the door or do I have to huff and puff and blow it down? [She laughs to herself at the irony of this latest fairy tale reference]

  [The door begins to open]

  Emily: [trying to look and sound as enthusiastic as she can] Great news Honey, I'm home!

  [The door fully opens and facing her on the other side is not the face of Riley, but that of a tall handsome woman in her late-30s]

  Woman: Well, glory be for that. We thought we'd lost you deary.

  Emily: [Her mouth dropping to somewhere below her knees] Oh, Uh Gloria. I thought uh... [Her voice trails off into nothing]

  Gloria: Yes I know what you thought darling. But as you can see Riley has been doing just fine without you and your little doggie there.

  Riley: [Coming up along side of Gloria] Gloria, I think Emily and I should talk alone for a couple of minutes. Maybe I can clear some things up for he
r.

  Gloria: [Somewhat haughtily] Well if you think she can be trusted I guess a couple of minutes alone with her will be alright. I'll just be in the BEDROOM [Emphasized for effect] putting my things away. [exit Gloria]

  Riley: Now Emily

  Emily: [In what could only be described as a screaming whisper] WHAT'S THAT WOMAN DOING HERE? You swore to me that you wouldn't call her.

  Riley: [Now slightly irritated] Well Emily, in the first place that was before you decided to chase after Mr. Kindred spirit while I was left swinging in the wind. And secondly, I didn't call her... She called me.

  Emily: So now what? You two are some kind of…of couple or something.

  Riley: Well, no... not exactly. But I...I feel very fondly towards Gloria. She has given me a lot of support these last few weeks.

  Emily: Yeah, and I can just imagine what kind of support it was too.

  Riley: [Defensively, but irritated again] It wasn't anything like that. And it's really none of your business anyway.

  Emily: [More irritated] Oh, it's really none of my business, isn't it. I'm away for a couple of weeks and come back to find this...this...WOMAN moving into your apartment.

  Riley: She's not moving in. [A slight pause] Well OK, she is moving in, but it's not what you think. She's having her condo painted and because she's allergic to the fumes she asked if she could stay here for a week or two until the place is completely aired out.

  Emily: [Emphatically] A week or two?! A WEEK OR TWO?! What are they using, radioactive paint? Three-mile Island was aired out in less time than that.

  Riley: Uh, I don't know. She said she had this allergy and asked if she could stay here. I've known her for years and she's been such a help to me lately. What was I supposed to do, say no?

  Emily: Well Einstein that would have been a good start. [Short pause] You're such a dope sometimes. Don't you realize what she's doing? She's not just moving into your apartment, she's moving into your life.

  Riley: [Slightly puzzled expression] What are you talking about? She's allergic to paint. It's not uncommon you know.

  Emily: [Frustrated] This has nothing to do with paint Dopey. It has to do with her taking my place in your life.

  Riley: Nobody's taking anybody's place. And I wish you would stop referring to me as Dopey.

  Emily: [Totally frustrated] OK, fine. Who do you want to be? Doc, Grumpy, Happy…No, I've got it, Sleepy. That suits you perfectly.

  [She just stares at the floor shaking her head] This is what I get for trying to come back and make things up to you. [She looks up at him defiantly] Well I'm out of here. I hope you and Sneezy end up living happily ever after together.

  [As she turns to leave, the leash she is holding Maxwell by slips out of her hand. Maxwell darts past Riley and down the hall towards the bedroom.

  Then a scream is heard and both Riley and Emily head quickly in the direction of the commotion. When they reach the bedroom and look inside Riley and Emily have distinctly different reactions. As Riley stands almost frozen in shock, Emily bursts into sudden, uncontrollable laughter.

  The scene they are confronted with can only be described as a good old-fashion tug of war between Maxwell and Gloria, with Gloria using her hands and Maxwell, of course, his teeth. The object they have chosen for their little game is what looks like the last remnants of a silky black negligee, most definitely of the Victoria's Secrets sort.]

  Gloria: [evidently exhilarated from the game] Don't just stand there gawking you idiot! [Said in the direction of Dopey] Make this mangy beast release my nighty.

  [Riley, as if awakened from a dream, rushes forward, and after a short struggle coaxes Maxwell to relinquish his half of the nighty. Gloria stands in tears holding the remains of the torn garment as Maxwell triumphantly jumps off the bed and returns to Emily's side]

  Emily: [while trying desperately to suppress her laughter] Bad dog Maxwell…Bad, bad dog. [Though as she says this she’s gently caressing the back of his soft, doggie neck]

  Gloria: [almost oblivious to everyone and everything except for her torn nighty] It’s ruined…it's all ruined.

  Emily: [finally able to regain her composure] Don’t worry Gloria. Just send me the bill and I'll make Maxwell pay for it out of his weekly allowance.

  Though actually I don't know what you're so upset about. Wasn't that nighty meant to be ripped at and slobbered on by the male of the species? Maxwell just recognized you for the bitch that you really are.

  Gloria: [stammering thru her sniffles] I...I order you out of our home right now. And take that horrid creature with you. Riley's mine now, so you have no more cause to come here.

  Emily: [turning soulfully towards Riley] Is this true Riley? Are you hers now?

  Riley: [glancing confusedly back and forth between Emily and Gloria] Well, ah...well ah...ah [and that was it]

  Emily: [Sadly, after what seemed like an eternity of waiting] Well, [Looking down at Maxwell] at least I have one male in my life who's willing to step forward and fight for his love for me. Come on Maxwell, let's go home.

  [With that, Emily grabs hold of the leash and heads towards the door. Maxwell turns to give one last pleading look into Riley's eyes and then reluctantly follows Emily out the door and down the stairs to the street below.

  For the next few hours they walk the city aimlessly, early evening changing into twilight and then into cruel lonely night. Finally, when it appears neither can take another step, they miraculously find themselves back at Belmont and Clark, home sweet home.

  They trudge up the two flights of stairs and virtually collapse thru the door, physically drained, mentally exhausted, emotionally dead. With no messages on her cell phone or answering machine, and no hope in her heart, Emily collapses into her big, red chair by the window and slowly dozes off to sleep. And as she does so her final thoughts drip sadly off her slightly quivering lips.]

  Emily: I will never ever love anyone again.

  End of Act II

  Monday 11/21

  Dear Diary,

  I'm sorry to have been away so long, Dear Diary, but my life has taken such a shameful and spurious turn for the worst that I have been reluctant to share the loathsome details even with you.

  After Riley's cowardice act of not standing up for his love for me in front of "that woman", I disengaged myself entirely from the amorous feelings that I once held for him, and instead returned once more to my life's calling, that of putting up walls and ripping out hearts.

  And after all that I had been thru the last several weeks I had come back more callous and cold-hearted than ever. Now where was I?

  I start with those that are most conveniently at hand, namely Gregory and Derrick. I lure each with the promise of what they most desire from me. And just when it appears that certain victory is within their grasp I rip out their hearts with all the empathy of a great white shark.

  The emotional havoc I wreck on each of their weak, miserable, insecure psyches is at once both exhilarating and repulsive.

  After them I turn to other victims who have at one time or another expressed a more than casual interest in me. One, two, three, four, they come as unsuspecting lambs to the slaughter.

  They prostrate themselves before me. The glistening moistness innocently dancing upon their exposed naked necks can be seen reflected in the hollow blackness of my cold, steely, impervious eyes.

  I then without warning unmercifully drop the blade of my vorpal ax. Whap, whap, whap, whap…

  Each of their severed hearts fall obediently into the waiting wicker baskets as their bodies collapse lifelessly to the floor, wriggling ever so slightly before being kicked into the waiting cart and toted off to Heartbreak Hill, where they are dumped unremorsefully into the pauper's graves already prepared to receive them.

  And as I stand triumphantly over their pathetic corpses, glorifying in my victory and hungering for more, who should appear beside me with such an approving countenance but Christopher, the Satanic messenger of heartache.

/>   He had called me repeatedly after our last confrontation, but it was only after he tracked me down at my place of work that we actually had any sort of conversation. And what a powerful conversation it was.

  He told me that quite frankly he had originally misjudged me, but that after our verbal row he had finally seen the similarity in our natures that I had apparently been aware of all along. We were conjugal twins, he said, and we belonged together.

  Others didn't understand us, he continued, and only together could we totally cultivate our personalities without constantly having to explain ourselves to whatever partner he and me might eventually settle down with.

  Sure we lacked a certain sentimentality that most mistaken for love. But we were bonded by something far greater than these idealistic emotional meanderings.

  We had the truth, and the truth had set us free. Free to live life on our own terms without trying to fruitlessly fulfill other's foolish pipe dreams of love and sacrifice.

  And what was the truth? The truth was that everyone does things based on what is in their own self-interest. They do what they believe they have to do to get what they want from others. To obtain what they want, they believe that they must first give others what they want.

  If they wish to be loved, then they feel they must express love towards another. And if they desire respect, they reason that they in turn must respect others as well. Of course, Christopher noted, these seemingly obvious beliefs are totally contrary to reality.

  To get what you want you must expect the best from others and accept nothing less. To be loved you must withhold your own love from others, giving of yourself only what is necessary. And to be respected you must hold fast to your own opinions regardless of what everyone else may think or say.

  That is the truth, he concluded, and knowing that truth is what separates us from the rest of humanity

  Though his delivery was cold and sardonic, his arguments were flawless. And when he had finished I had no recourse but to agree with everything he had said.

  Does he love me? He feels no more compassion for me than a worm feels for a fish that it’s trying to lure onto its hook. Do I love him? What I feel for him is just the all too familiar contempt that I have most recently felt for myself.

  What our union offers up I concluded was simply a reasonable solution to what seems an irresolvable conundrum, a solution that provides at least a semblance of compatibility, understanding, and acceptance of ourselves and of each other.

  More importantly, I felt that by us being together at least two other people would be spared the emotional torment that we most likely would wreck upon their miserable lives.

  So what about Riley you ask. Well first I must tell you that he did call me several times right after our last confrontation and that he left umpteen messages on my voicemail and answering machine.

  Most of these messages had to do with how sorry he was about what had happened and about any misunderstanding there had been.

  He also told me in detail of what had transpired after I left his apartment. Namely how he had told Gloria that under the circumstances it would probably be better for everyone involved if she just stayed in a hotel, or at another friend's house, instead of with him.

  At this suggestion she had broken down and told him how much she loved him and had always loved him. And that she had only left him the first time because she hadn't been ready to settle down, but that now she was.

  He said he was moved by her confession, but that he felt no more love in his heart for her, and that it was me he loved. Their parting was not amiable, as he tells it, but he believes she'll get over it in time.

  Though his actions were commendable, it was not enough to convince me that he’s willing to fight for me when our love is on the line. You must remember that his fighting spirit came only after the fact and not in the heat of battle where it would have mattered most.

  So needless to say his phone calls went mostly unanswered and his visits to my apartment were met with silent evasiveness and quick brush-offs.

  At first it was because I was ashamed of his behavior towards me. But later it was my own behavior that shamed me into avoiding him. Knowing what I had become I felt unworthy of his love, of his warmth, of his gentle and deep felt compassion.

  And as Christopher said, the pain Riley was feeling now was nothing compared to the agony I would most likely cause him if I entered into some long-term relationship with him. Here again I was forced to agree with the creep.

  But in examining my past and contemplating my future, I can't help but feel a sense of loss far greater than any I have felt before or think that I will ever feel again.

  Sunday 12/25

  Dear Diary,

  Damn my reprobate heart. As I sit here now hopelessly seeking lucidity of mind, my life and future happiness are slipping ever so painfully through my grasp.

  With my rueful and lamentable treatment of those who most diligently sought my favor, particularly Riley, I have in essence stripped away my last vestments of human decency and thrown myself head first into the frigid waters of emotional debauchery.

  Now as I swim out towards the rock of maudlin indifference and sentimental insipidity, namely my romantic future, wave after wave of wanton cruelty wash over me. Each wave reminding me of some grievous injustice I have rendered upon the heart of another.

  My only hope of salvation lies behind me where Riley, standing alone on the shore, calls out to me. But with every stroke I take his voice grows fainter and my fleeting hope wanes.

  If only he had the vision to see that despite all appearances to the contrary I am drowning…drowning in a sea of iniquity. Even if he saw, he would need the courage of love to swim out after me and the strength of commitment to carry me back to land.

  After which he would have to suck the remorseless fluids from my soul and infuse into my non-feeling heart the resplendent air of benevolence and the innocuous breath of altruism and compassion.

  Only after this would he procure my indivisible being, body and soul. And only then would I accept his passionate lordship over my sensual essence. But alas I have already gone under twice and the icy grip of Christopher is threatening to pull me under for the third and final time.

  Riley my sweet, where are you? GLUB... Riley my love, please oh please come to my rescue! glub,glub…. Riley you idiot, get out here and save me! glub glub glub glubbbbbb….

  Friday 12-30

  Dear Diary,

  All is lost. My fate is sealed. Not only have Riley's flow of phone calls diminished to a trickle, but tonight when I happened to be walking Maxwell near Riley's apartment building I saw Gloria just going thru his front door.

  Maxwell saw her too and let out a series of barks and yelps. I should have done the same. Maybe I would have felt better.

  I wandered around aimlessly after that, as dismal reflections and melancholy thoughts once more pervaded my world. By the time I got home I had just enough time to ready myself for my date with Christopher.

  Actually date is the wrong term. I believe appointment would better characterize our nightly get-togethers.

  Yes Dear Diary, I said nightly. Since our conversation several weeks ago hardly an evening has passed that he and I have not been together. Together in the nominal sense, mind you, not in the carnal one. In actuality he has not even suggested any kind of sexual liaison between us, nor have I encouraged one.

  Our evenings are mostly spent at small gatherings of people he does business with, or at parties of his friends or co-workers. The number of parties, as well as the number of people he knows, seems endless. And Christopher is almost always the center of attention.

  His mountain climbing stories never fail to draw a huge crowd. And his biting yet poignant remarks regarding those not present, or those having recently left, are usually greeted with uproarious laughter from whatever audience he's entertaining at the time.

  On the few occasions he has been confronted by one of his verbal targets, he
has managed to quite deftly convince the person that either he was grossly misquoted or that it was nothing more than a silly joke.

  As for my part in these galas Christopher encourages me to mingle freely and to see how many men, married or otherwise, that I can entice into falling in love with me.

  He does the same with the women and at the end of the night we actually tally up the scores, if you can believe that, to see who was the most charming, the most seductive, and the most deceitful.

  Our roles are clear, Christopher is the mentor and I am his student. He is teaching me everything he knows concerning the fine art of manipulation and control. Under his tutelage I have perfected my skills of knowing exactly when to move forward, when to pull back, and when to go in for the kill.

  I've learned to discover the weakness in each victim I encounter. Not the physical weakness, for we already know its sex. I'm speaking of the emotional weakness, the weakness of the heart. I have no interest in their lust. I am after their love…their obsessive, uncontrollable love.

  The thing that causes the victim to lose sleep, to miss meals, and most importantly the thing that makes him despise every other woman in his life except me.

 

  It's a hard game to master because in order to get the desired results you have to carry out the charade to the very end, which very few people have the stomach to do.

  The secret of course is not to care. Not to care about the other person, not to care about the consequences of your actions, and most of all not to care about yourself.

  I enjoy using my waifish innocence and girlish naïveté to lure men into falling in love with me. I enjoy pushing it to the limit, convincing them that they are the only man I could ever dream of being with, and that all they need to do to have me is but to ask.

  And then there is the chase, the all elusive chase. Once I have hold of their heart I lead them on a merry romp down what at first appears to be a gentle, playful path.

  Like a will-o-wisp I dart in and out amongst the trees, leading them eventually away from the path and off deeper and deeper into the dark forest of uncontrollable desire. Each time they reach out to grab me, thinking I am theirs, they end up with a handful of nothing.

  Instead of being discouraged they see me as a challenge, and come after me all the more. If I see them start to give up the chase I float back towards them and bestow in them renewed hope that maybe they can still catch me.

  It all ends when after I have led them to the deepest and most treacherous part of the forest I shoot straight up to the top of the trees and disappear back to the beginning to start the whole process over again with another.

  Meanwhile the victim wanders about hopelessly lost, calling out my name and wondering where I have gone with his heart.

  Most of these men will wander for weeks or months, some for even years, desperately searching for but never quite finding their way back to the path they had been merrily following before they had the misfortune of meeting me.

  The ones who are lucky enough to stagger out alive seek to vindictively steal the heart of another and lead that person on the very same chase.

  By inflicting pain on another, they feel they can somehow relieve their own pain, and in the process regain some measure of lost self-respect. This is most satisfying to me since not only have I caused suffering to one victim, but I have created a chain reaction of pain which could conceivably go on indefinitely.

  Causing pain to others when you have no right to is the ultimate seat of power. Also, if it’s the other person feeling pain then you are not. It’s always better to give than to receive, is it not.

  In essence I have finally achieved that which I had always strived for. I have completely silenced my heart. It is not dead, not yet anyway. It’s simply buried alive deep within the cavern of my soul.

  Reason and calculating intellect rule my every thought and action. Thanks to Christopher I am finally the person I have always wanted to be. So why am I so miserable?

  Friday 1-27

  Dear Diary,

  A PLAY: Act III

  [The scene is a large front room of a condominium on Lake Shore Drive where a festive party is currently under way. Many of the party guests are scattered about in small groups of two or three, though there are several people gathered around a tall, debonair, brown-eyed man currently in the midst of telling yet another of his mountain climbing adventure stories. Seated in close proximity to this gathering, though not listening closely is a young, bespectacled, reddish-blond waif. She is herself engaged in what appears to be a sentimental conversation with an attractive, rather innocent-looking young man of about the same age. Though she appears semi-bored with their little conversation, he is altogether enthralled with her, and with every word that comes off her slightly pouty lips.

  There is a small commotion at the front door as another couple arrives on the scene. The man in his late thirties is altogether good-looking but slightly disheveled. And though he has broad shoulders and a masculine physique, his manner appears gentle and his face kind. The woman of about the same age is tall, angular, and handsome. As the hostess greets the couple, several people including the waifish young girl look intriguingly in their direction. To all of the regulars of these frequent get-togethers the couple is foreign and unfamiliar…to all that is except the young waif. To her they are not only familiar, they are her worst nightmare.

  She, breaking off the sentimental conversation with wide-eyed young man and leaning over to address the debonair, brown-eyed man]

  Young Waif: Christopher [He continues his monologue seemingly oblivious to the waif]

  Young Waif: CHRISTOPHER! [She says louder]

  Christopher: [With a yawn and a slight trace of irritation turns to acknowledge her plea for attention] Yes Emily darling.

  Emily: [Pointing discreetly towards the newly arrived couple] That's him…That's him.

  Christopher: [Looking confusingly in the direction where her outstretched finger is aiming] That's him? That's him who?

  Emily: [Whispering] Riley...That's Riley. And that Gloria woman is with him.

  Christopher: [Suddenly excited by this unexpected turn of events] Oh this is priceless. This is simply priceless [Then standing up and grabbing hold of Emily's hand] Come my sweet, we must go greet the lovely couple.

  [Christopher, with Emily reluctantly in tow, moves deftly towards his unsuspecting prey. His level of anticipation is matched only by her level of anxiety. Before the hapless victims have a chance to realize what’s happening Christopher is upon them.]

  Christopher: [Enthusiastically] Hello Riley...It is Riley, isn't it?

  Riley: [Stunned momentarily] Ah…yes. Yes it is…But how…who... [Then he notices Emily]

  Emily: Hello Riley [She leans forward and gives him a delicate kiss on the cheek] How have you been?

  Riley: Well...ah…ok…ok, I guess...How have been you...I mean…how have you...?

  [But before he can finish Christopher has his arm around Riley's shoulder.]Christopher: Riley, old sport. [Then turning towards Gloria] You must introduce me to this vision of loveliness beside you.

  Riley: [Still somewhat stunned] Well...ah…oh, this is....this is ah....

  Gloria: [Looks irritatingly at Riley then extends a hand in Christopher's direction] I'm Gloria you sweet young man. And who may you be?

  Christopher: [Taking her hand and looking seriously into her eyes] I may be Christopher, but under the spell of such beauty who can be sure.

  Gloria: [Giggling] Oh you are a little charmer, aren't you.

  Christopher: [Removing his arm from around Riley while still grasping Gloria's hand] Come Gloria. There are some people here you simply must meet. Let me introduce you around.

  Gloria: [Slightly pulling away while glancing hesitantly at Riley and Emily] Well I don't know. I ah...

  Christopher: [Picking up every nuance of her spasmodic movements and irregular expressions] Oh, don't worry about your precious Riley. Emily here will take eve
r so delicate care of him. In fact that's her specialty. [He flashes that effervescent smile in Emily's direction] Isn't it Emily my love?

  [Before Emily can answer, Christopher is already dragging poor Gloria towards a small elitist group on the other side of the room. Riley and Emily stand side-by-side for several moments, both silently wishing they were any place other than here. Finally the silence is broken]

  Emily: [Turning towards Riley] Well Mr. Socialite, this is the last place I ever expected to see you.

  Riley: [Nodding in agreement] It was Gloria's idea. She thought I needed to "broaden my horizon's" as she put it. But to be honest I really don't feel very comfortable here.

  Emily: [Half-smiling] Well, if it’s any consolation you don't look very comfortable here either. As pathetic as this sounds, I much prefer you in that musty old apartment of yours drinking a cold beer and saying everything twice.

  Riley: [Smiling back] Yeah, me too, me too.

  [Then there is another lengthy silence as they stare at Christopher and Gloria on the other side of the room]

  Riley: [Finally] So that's him Huh. Your....what did you call him, your kindred spirit?

  Emily: [A look of resignation flashing over her face] Yep, that's him alright. Don't you see the resemblance?

  Riley: [After a momentary reflection] No Emily, I DON’T see the resemblance. I don't see any resemblance at all.

  Emily: Oh come on Riley, sure you do. The cynical look, the detached expression… NO HEART. It's all so obvious.

  Riley: [Looking with disbelief towards Emily] Is that how you see yourself Emily? Is that really what you see?

  Emily: [Thoughtfully] Yes, that's exactly what I see.

  Riley: Then I feel sorry for you.

  Emily: [Suddenly irritated] Oh you feel sorry for me do you. Like I'm some object of pity or something. Well let me tell you something mister, I don't need your pity...and I don't need you. [She turns to walk away but he grabs hold of her hand and draws her back]

  Riley: What DO you need anyway? I'd really like to know. I've done everything but jump off the Sears Tower to try and please you and all I get in return is kindred spirits and smart-ass replies. You never say what you want. I'm always supposed to just guess at it or something. Well, I guess I'm not a very good guesser I guess.

  Emily: [Laughs despite herself] Well I guess not [then more seriously] Look Riley, it's not a matter of guessing. It's a matter of knowing, of sensing, of anticipating my needs. That's what I want, someone who knows me. If you have to guess at what I need then you’re in no position to provide me with it. You say you care about me and yet Christopher, who has never cared about anyone but himself, has a far greater sense of who I am and what I need than you probably ever will.

  Christopher: [coming up from behind, Gloria on his arm] Did I just hear my name mentioned? How flattering. It was flattering, wasn't it?

  Emily: Oh it was flattering alright…much more flattering than you deserve.

  Christopher: Why Emily, how can you say such a thing after all we've meant to each other? So what was it you two were talking so intently about anyway? Despite my reassurances, Gloria was beginning to worry that you might be contemplating getting back together or something.

  Gloria: [Totally taken aback by his statement] I WAS NOT! [Then gaining her composure] Why Christopher, you know I thought no such thing. Why we were having so much fun I forgot all about you two. At least I forgot about Emily. And so did Christopher. Didn't you Christopher?

  Christopher: Oh No [looking seriously towards Emily] I never forget about Emily. As a matter of fact she’s the one constant always on my mind. We're twins you know, Emily and I.

  Gloria: What? [A sudden look of surprise crossing her face] But I thought that ah...I had no idea that [and then looking more closely at the two of them] I don't seem to see any resemblance between the two of you.

  Riley: [Cynically] That’s what I said.

  Christopher: [Laughing] Oh not physical twins, Gloria dear. We're spiritual twins, kindred spirits, made of the same essence and all that sort of thing you know.

  Riley: That's a laugh.

  Christopher: Ah, A cynic. Well that's to be expected. Some of us aren't quite as perceptive as others.

  Riley: Maybe not [Getting visibly upset] but I'm perceptive enough to know that you two are a sham, and so is your relationship. There's no love there. There's not even any like. The only reason you two are together at all is that you're both miserable and misery loves company.

  [Riley then turns towards Emily] It doesn't have to be that way. Come back to me Emily. I need you Emily.

  Emily: Oh so now you need me do you. When did you make this great discovery Einstein? [She stares directly into his eyes] When you had the chance to demonstrate how you felt for me you cowardly shrunk back into the shadows, afraid to fight, afraid to commit, and afraid to declare your feelings.

  And talk about someone wallowing in a pool of self-pity, you've been doing it for years. And because of it you've ruined any chance you might have had for getting the happiness you wanted out of life. [Turning away sadly] And in the process you've ruined my chance for getting it as well. I hate you…I hate you for that.

  Riley: [As though the substance of her words has unlocked a door deep within his soul, a look of revelation rolls painstakingly over his face] You're right Emily, my God you're right. I see it now, everything you've said is true. [Pauses reflectively]

  When I was young I wasn't afraid of anything. I fought for what I wanted and I didn't quit until I got it. I took risks, I played reckless, and I always won. Of course it was easy back then, I had never failed. I didn't know what failure was.

  When I finally did fail I was lost. I had no idea of how to cope with it. So instead of getting up and fighting on I just laid there feeling sorry for myself and feeling angry at the world. I realize now that it's not failure that defeats a man, its self-pity. Self-pity is what robs him of his courage, his dignity, and his will to fight on. From the first moment we met I wondered what it was that you saw in me…me who was such a failure and a coward where life was concerned.

  Now I know. You saw that man, that man I used to be. That man who I buried deep down inside me. That man I was afraid to let out, afraid that he might fail again. [Looks hard at Emily] All your little games and the verbal lashings were your attempt at making me see him too. [Pauses] But I didn't want to see him. To see him would have forced me to look at myself now. To look at the man I had become. And that was more frightening than anything I could think of.

  Well no more. Now the thing that most frightens me is the thought of losing you…of losing your love. That prospect I couldn't stand. I need you Emily. That inner man needs you. You are the only one that sees him and you are the only one who can bring him back to the surface. He’s the one asking for that chance. Please Emily, give him that chance. Give me that chance.

  Christopher: [Breaking into applause and feigning deep-felt emotion] Bravo! Bravo! What a moving performance. [Sniffling] I don't know about anyone else [Wiping away crocodile tears with his Armani tie] but I'm getting all bleary-eyed.

  Emily: Knock it off Christopher. You can be such a jerk some times.

  Christopher: [Somewhat surprised by her reaction] Oh come on Emily. Inner man indeed…give me a break. Don't tell me your fell for that crock of crap. And remember, while you were with me, he and his "inner man" were spending all their time with Gloria here.

  Do you think that while he was being comforted by her that he was thinking about you? Do you believe that while he lay in her arms that he was wishing they were yours? If you do then you’re a bigger sucker than he is.

  Why not ask Gloria if he seemed in much emotional pain once she started coming around. Ask her how many sentimental conversations they had about you and him. Ask her how many times when in the heat of passion that he called out your name instead of hers.

  Emily: Ok, I will. [Turning to Gloria]....Gloria?

  Gloria: [A sudden pall cr
osses over her face] I...I don't feel very well...I have to leave now. Are…are you coming Riley? [Turning with a hopeful look in his direction]

  Riley: [Gently touching her shoulder] Answer her Gloria...answer her.

  Gloria: [Starting to cry] ALRIGHT, alright. Nothing happened between us. [Looking dejectedly at Riley] There was no romance...there was no heat of passion.... and he talked about you constantly....Is that what you wanted? [Totally breaking down] Is that what you wanted to hear?

  Christopher: Oh this is pathetic. [Shaking his head] Who are you people and what planet did you come from? [Then looking at Emily] You can't seriously be thinking of going back with him. Tell me you're not actually in love with this…Neanderthal. [Then nodding in the direction of the now slobbering Gloria]

  LOOK! Look what love does to people. It turns them into blubbering fools…always at the whim of another person's will…always susceptible to pain and suffering because of the other person's least slight or unkindness.

  You know its power. You know the damage it’s capable of doing if you open yourself up to it. You who have wielded love so unflinchingly and astutely in the past. How can you now expose yourself so blindly to it now?

  A loveless path is a lonely path. But with you I can make it. We can make it together. And in the end we’ll have done what few have done before us. We will have conquered love, conquered our emotions, and conquered the miserably deceitful heart that resides in each and every one of us. Stay with me Emily.

  Riley: [Applauding] Bravo! Bravo! Now it’s my turn to get all choked up. Don't listen to him Emily. He talks as if love is an enemy that must be fought and conquered.

  Well love isn't something to be conquered. Love is something to be cherished and embraced, like a child just brought forth from the womb. Love is life Emily, and without it we would surely die. Please Emily, choose life, choose love…choose me.

  Emily: [Genuinely confused for the first time in her life] I...I don't know...I just don't know.

  Riley: [After several moments of waiting for a response] Well now I've done it. My indecisiveness has rubbed off on you. I've contaminated you. Maybe I should just go.

  Christopher: [With a wave of his hand] Good riddance. That's the first intelligent thing you've told us all evening.

  Riley: [Clenching his fist] Here, let me tell you a few more things Mister Kindred Spirit.

  [The blow catches Christopher square in the jaw, dropping him instantly to the floor. Christopher sits there for a few moments, a stunned smile crossing over his face. Then taking Riley's outstretched hand he pulls himself up and wipes away the trace of blood trickling from his lower lip]

  Emily: [As the room has gone suddenly silent] Oh that's just great.

  Riley, what are you doing?

  Riley: [Regaining his composure and then turning to Emily] I'm doing what you wanted Emily. Wasn't it you who wanted me to stand up and fight for our love? Well I'm doing it the only way I know how. I love you Emily, and nothing anyone can say or do will ever change that.

  You've put me through hell the last several months. You've given me your worst and I'm still coming back for more. If that's not proof enough for you then maybe he's right. Maybe you two do belong together. [With that he turns to leave]

  Emily: [touching his arm] Riley...wait.

  Christopher: Emily!?

  Emily: Christopher...I'm leaving.... [Glancing towards Riley] We're leaving.

  Christopher: Emily, don't. Don't do it...It's a mistake.

  Emily: I have to...I have to try.

  Christopher: [Shaking his head] But I had such high hopes for you. You were my prize pupil…you were my running mate…we were a team.

  Emily: Prize pupil, running mate, team. Sure...but you don't mention anything about romance, about love. Those are the words that are missing and those are the words I need to hear now.

  Christopher: Romance? Love? Come on Emily, those words don't mean anything to us. That stuff is for suckers. You know that.

  Emily: Yeah, I know that. I guess I'm just a sucker. I suppose I have been all along. [Turning to Riley and then back to Christopher] Good-bye Christopher, I hope you find what you're looking for.

  Christopher: [Sadly] But that's just it, Emily, I'm not looking for anything because there's nothing to find.

  Emily: You're wrong Christopher, you're so very wrong. [Silence…then finally turning to Riley and taking his hand] Come on Riley. Let's go home.

  Gloria: [Approaches Riley with tears in her eyes] Riley....What about me? What about…us?

  Riley: [Reaching in his pocket for a handkerchief and handing it to her] I'm sorry Gloria, I'm afraid that...there is no us. [He stands staring at her for a few more moments and then touches her arm] I'll see you Gloria.

  [Emily and Riley get their coats and exit stage right. The elevator ride is silent as is the taxi ride home, as each of them quietly reflect on their past and contemplate their future together.

  And as the curtain comes down on the third and final act of our play, the only thing Riley hears is the sound of Emily's gentle rhythmic breathing as he holds her tight against him. And the only sound Emily hears is the soothing beat of Riley's heart as she rests her head securely upon his chest]

  End of Act III

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