GIRL 93 ~ ISRAELI AIR FORCE GIRL (PART 4)

GIRL 93

ISRAELI AIR FORCE GIRL

PART 4

(Continued)

And then I was in bed and the sun was rising, and I was certain that the last woman I'd dated had been Anal Third Base Girl. 

It had all been a dream.

But as the coffee brewed, I dropped my jaw as I saw the email:

"Michael, it was so wonderful to meet you last night.  I haven't had a night that fun - or romantic - since college.  Okay, perhaps that wasn't quite true.  I haven't had a night like that since I was born!  I would love to see you again, and thank you so much.  I'm sorry I missed your calls last night, I had to get into a bubble bath to calm down enough to go to sleep, but I will call you back in the morning.  Thanks again, darling.  Love, Israeli Air Force Girl"

Oh my fucking God, I thought.

It took four days of emailing to get it done.  My hands shook as I typed each email.  But as the hours went by, it got more and more under control.  I alienated Israeli Air Force Girl as quickly, intensely and convincingly as I could, trying to act like Rex as I did so she wouldn't suspect it was me trying to sabotage this budding relationship. 

Finally it was done.  I said good-bye to Israeli Air Force Girl over something as stupid as when we'd schedule the second date.  I lied and managed to come up with some lame excuse as to why that was such a deal-breaker that I would never see her anymore.

I wiped sweat off my brow as I closed her last good-bye email.  I could almost sense how upset she was as she typed it.

I turned off the computer and shut my eyes, and her image mercifully faded from my brain.

Rex sat on the kitchen counter when I stood to go pick up my daughter at day care.

What do you want?

His voice was cold and hard.  "You are a ruthless, cruel, unfeeling, inconsistent, immature, fucked-up, son of a bitching asshole," he said.  I'd never heard him more hostile.

He'd lost.  And there was nothing he could do about it.

I just looked him in the eye.

Like that's news, I said.

"You want war?" he asked.  "You got it."

I came across the room at him but he'd vanished again.

Since Israeli Air Force Girl, the episodes of lost time have increased.  My memory lapses are becoming more matters of concern.  When I wrote of Rex before, I thought it was interesting - while still being true - but I never imagined that the bifurcation of my personality would go this far.

Was it possible that I had multiple personality disorder?  I flew off the handle in a freakish spaz on my senior partner - by boss - a week after I saw Israeli Air Force Girl, and the fallout was so severe that I didn't get any work assigned from him for months, which was his punishment for me, because no assignment mean no money.  In my business, you eat what you kill.  And while the harsh, aggressive and unfriendly characteristics of me usually belong to the "Mikey" personality, I think Rex started imitating me as imperfectly as I'd imitated him to push away Israeli Air Force Girl.  I had a technical memory of each event, but it was a dead memory.  Information, not emotion.  Rex had taken over my body and my mind the day I'd blown a gasket on the boss and dealt me a blow in retaliation, and it was severe enough to take me almost to bankruptcy.

I had the vengeful thought that I'd make Rex watch as they repossessed his idiotic Saleen, and I'd remind him that it was the money from the business that paid for the damned Viagra for him and his sex addiction, but like I said, the son of a bitch doesn't understand or give a damn about money.

But it got worse.  I gave up on the idea of a girlfriend.  The people I was corresponding with were universally rejecting me now, as the madness took hold and grew deeper.  And as the financial situation grew worse, I found myself thinking more and more about suicide.  And then it occurred to me that the suicidal thoughts were really just Rex's way of trying to murder me.

There had to be a way to end this destructive conflict, I realized.

We had to make a deal.  We had to do it over the next six women.  One way or another.

But you don't just sue Tyrannosaurus Rex for peace.  He's as vicious as his name would imply.

And fighting him meant the end of me.  He could take my mind over and toss us off a bridge, and I might not "wake up" in my body until half way down.

It had to be in what I told the supreme being, I thought.  Because Rex liked raven haired girls, but he also liked blondes.

It had to be a blonde.  Over a blonde we'd sign a peace treaty.