This is the last chapter from the book that will be leaked before it’s out. Technically, this is the first chapter in the book “Long Legs in the Twin Cities”. This was by far one of the most intense relationships I’ve ever been involved with. I was no saint and did a lot of dumb things. It’s part of life, part of growing.
The aftermath of this relationship forced me to learn all too much. I don’t regret it whatsoever. Life was lived. Plus, on the bright side, I earned some much-needed street cred…okay maybe that wasn’t such a great outcome but no one can deny how powerful life lessons can be. Enjoy this? Leave a comment or rating and please share it with your friends! More updates about the books release will be coming soon as well as some lovely cover art from the talented photographer Ed Neaton. Stay tuned..
The tan line only reached so far on Paige’s arm. She screamed recluse and embodied anxiety. Alone in her mind was an average day. Books were her escape and her favorite snack was vanilla pudding. You know her type of girl; Calculating her every move to fulfill her wants all the while making you feel like she’s just a bashful woman lost in her own mental mayhem. Her guard was meant to expose only a portion of the truth. Her front appeared nurturing, sensitive and warm, with a brain built for a MENSA member. What lay beneath the freckles and glasses was a woman drunk on control with the brain power to bring her evil and spiteful ideologies to life.
The smartest ones always end up being the craziest ones; there’s something about them that makes me want to understand why. Paige was completely imperfect on every level. We even met while she was dating a member of the opposite sex, which we will come back to. It wasn’t long before she brought me home and changed me forever. She was my first and I quickly wound up infatuated. Stuck on what would turn into a life-long conquest. Paige is to thank for that.
It was a Tuesday and she was bored. No, Paige had never intended more than an evening of meaningless, vodka-fueled foreplay. She had no idea it would give life to a new form of self-destruction for me. Paige actually had little clue as to the self-destruction I was prone to yet, though she eventually saw the manifestation and culmination of the worst. To say Paige didn’t care would be selling her short. To say she didn’t care much would be a more factual statement.
For months Paige kept me in a friendly zone while she dated Ed. Ed deserved far better than the manipulating woman who frequently found herself waking up in beds other than his or her own. He was just another sap in love, and soon I would find myself sharing this deadly disease.
Paige and I started hanging out more, and of course my mind had remained consistent on swiping her blindly from poor old Ed. The second time we romped my gears cranked to maximum. This was when I knew for a fact she was crazy and knew I needed to understand why. We were at a birthday party and Ed had passed out on a couch early, being that he was one of the few real “adults” at this party and was up early working a desk job that morning. Paige proceeded to flirtatiously massage my back while in the same room as sleeping Ed. She further motioned me outdoors when lips started being placed on various spots of exposed skin. We came back maybe an hour later; Ed was still dozing off on the couch so she chose to spend the rest of nightfall in my arms.
To anyone else, a girl who is willing to treat their partner with such disgrace would not evoke thoughts of wanting to settle down. I am unlike most people and set a goal. With this new wind under my wings I had the determination of a rookie Quarterback. Not quite as skillful as Robert Griffin III but as self-assured as Cam Newton.
After that encounter less than one week later Paige agreed to spend the night at my place. Unbeknownst to Ed, I only had one small bed and a mind full of might. The next day he would wake up to a voice mail dismissing him from future relational commitments and titles. See, I had given Paige an ultimatum that night and thought at the time she made the right choice.
Over the course of the next 6 months she proved her capabilities to destroy hearts and began to turn smug about the increasing number of them on her list. Towards the end of everything her dark side really sparkled bright. I was also in an extremely dark place, but our mental states were not coinciding with each other. Mine wasn’t malicious like Paige’s; it was more a sad, depressing and empty place. Even though that describes a majority of my life, this was the bottom and she knew that.
When I called her mid-pharmaceutical binge, she dared me to take more and gave me the sound advice to leave her alone for good. So I took more―Xanax, Prozac, Oxycontin, Vicodin, Abilify, Morphine, Tramadol– anything and everything, intending to make her wishes of being forever left alone come true. Reflecting in my manic mind on previous failures with SSRI’s and painkillers, I felt the binge would not do. I desired completion and knew a place that may help provide it, so I grabbed my keys and took off.
Fortunately we live in a land of sensible drivers that make sure the wide open road has occasional detours. In the land of America our detour to true freedom has been painted as many things but in my case that evening, it was a Sheriff and his friends.
The details remain foggy because of that vile pill cocktail that induced a 5-day haze and crash period. When I woke up sober for the first time in jail, it was cold. I had been given a velcro suit along with no other clothing because of the whole suicide watch thing. Eventually I coaxed the guards to give me some scrubs and promised I would do no harm. Paige was all I could think about. Forced into isolation and sober thought, I finally had some new perspective.
I was able to call Paige, thanks to a cell-mate with empathy. It cost money to call people in jail and I was arrested without the privilege of keeping any in a spendable account because of my incoherence. Though the phone call did not cost anything along the lines of sexual favors it did induce a great amount of anxiety so when she picked up and told me she was on a date and would have to call back I was even more crushed than before. How could she move on that quick? This kind of just proved my suspicions that she didn’t care the entire time and it hurt.
Everyone had told me she didn’t, and to be honest I knew they were right the whole time. I was just so infatuated that at the time it wasn’t a worry. Luckily this new-found sobriety gave me a clear outlook and made me question why things even spiraled into what they did. Obviously the drugs were a huge factor but they weren’t the cause.
This thing with women was new and exciting. It made my heart race and palms sweat. Sometimes it wore me down into a shaky bumbling mess. When the absence arrived, I felt the emotional withdrawals. Removal of the same stimulation had me tugging between bed rest and praising porcelain gods. Needing the presence of a woman for the high highs and the low lows. They were a drug all in their own and Paige was my gateway.
Though we both probably resent much of our time together I thank her for exposing me to a new addiction. This one is far healthier than some of my previous ones and she helped shape the boundaries for the habit. Who knows how life would have been without Paige. Possibly better, possibly worse but I can guarantee that I would not be the same person I’ve grown to be.