The Wow Girl

••• today's entry continues here below •••

But this girl was not an experimenter .. as had became vogue with some sexually bored local housewives.

In other words, she had been like that from early on .. very naturally. Very innocently. You could see how it could be natural with her. Ivory snow girl.

But bulimic. Heart-breaking shit. Very dysfunctional. I would say » "What the fuck?"

And she would say » "They say it will probably kill me."

Among other things, the acid in your stomach eats the enamel off your teeth. She had a host of health issues that she tried to keep at bay.

When I learned she was bulimic, I went out and bought a juicer ..

.. and would make her a glass of fresh » apple-carrot-parsley-ginger juice whenever she came over.

"My body must need this," she would say after taking a sip, "cuz it tastes like butter."

If I found out tomorrow that she had died, it would not surprise me.

If she were still alive, yes, that would surprise me. Good for her.

Very morphing. Large range. You are not sure who is going to show up today.

Especially in her feminine to masculine morphing. I mean, she was very athletic, so she could morph along the masculine-to-feminine spectrum. As tho her hormones were all fucked up. (Maybe because of bulimia.)

Tho she was naturally very feminine. Petitish. In other words, it was hard for her to look masculine, and easy for her to look very feminine. Certainly innocent. Almost vulnerable.

» Her Feelings Bled Thru Her Soul to Her Skin

More than other women I have known, she seemed to bleed-thru .. her soul to her skin. Whether happy or sad. Tho her sad was very dark.

It was like she called out to me from the dark recesses of some place that I cannot go (.. at least, not then).

"Tell me what you see and feel and hear" I said. "So that I canvat least imagine what it's like for you."

That is when she called out to me. In honor of James Joyce and everybody who has ever been cut while hanging out there on the avant-garde-ist bleeding edge .. I will tell you what she told me.

[ I think of her sometimes, when I hear stories about Lindsay Lohan.

(Lindz likes girls, too.)

Lindz is the same age as the wow-girl was when I met her, so it's easy for me to see the similarities.

(And the same age as Julie Allen was .. when I met her.)

This may be why I feel a sense of compassion for this pretty, oft-troubled girl.

» Justice in America is a Bad Joke

I want to ask the Justice system ..

.. why does Lindsay have to go to jail? But not a drunk driver who kills four innocent people?

Doesnt seem fair, does it? Not hardly.

To be quite frank, it makes our "Justice" system seem like a joke .. like a bad joke. Like a cruel, bad joke.

My sexy, bulimic, bi-sexual, lefty-friend often wore her hair pulled back just like this.

There are definitely similarities in appearance .. among other things. ]

If she stayed over we would usually make coffee and go for a walk on the beach early Saturday morning ..

.. where I lived a half-block away.

We would usually walk to the end of the pier and back.

I was roasting my own beans back in those days, so it was some yummy shit.

Ethiopian in the French press. Sidamo when my supplier could score it. Or maybe some Sumatra or Sulawesi.

And as we are walking along the shore, she does a one-handed cartwheel .. to stretch and wake-up her body .. like a cat might stretch after a nap ..

.. without spilling a drop of coffee .. that she is holding in her other hand.

The centrifugal force holds the precious liquid in the cup .. like a loopdy-loop rollercoaster holds your ass in the seat. And she is talking about something while she does this .. like it is » no big thing.

And I no longer hear what she is saying, because I am thinking, "Holy shit. Did you see that? My balls would fall out if I did that. How is that even humanly possible?"

Dude, she said a sentence. Then she took a step and did the one-handed cartwheel.

A second later she came back up to vertical and spoke the next sentence. And took a sip.

The cartwheel was not even part of her discussion.

In other words, it did not even break her train of thought.

If I didnt say something, we would have been talking about a completely different topic. I didnt even know that such a thing was possible .. outside of Cirque du Soleil, maybe.

And she tells me about her training as a gymnast. "Once you start growing boobs," she says, "it's all over. They throw off your balance. So my mother locked up all the cupboards with cables and padlocks .. and controlled my food with a scale. We were going to the Olympics. As you can imagine, this did not help my eating disorder."

No, she did not say that her mother wore the keys on a lanyard around her neck. But that was the flavor I came away with.

» You Had to Earn Her Trust

I mean, I am telling you this about this girl all in one shot .. but she did not reveal very much in the beginning. She made you earn her trust .. and then she rewarded you .. with another little tidbit about her life.

It was like one of those scarves that a clown pulls out of his hat .. that keep coming and coming.

So, here at the 1-armed coffee-holding cartwheel on the beach, is good place to tell you that .. from a certain perspective, I found her an exotic creature. Exotic and mysterious and fascinating. Beyond intriguing.

I mean, you will finish reading my little stream-of-consciousness blurb here just below and say, "Wow." But I am telling you that I left out a lot of shit. Cuz there is lots of shit that I just cant say. (The best shit, really.)

Stream-of-Consciousness » First-Try

This girl needed (yes, I know that I didnt use 'wanted') .. needed to be treated a certain way.

And basically the deal was (.. no, she did not use these exact words in this exact way ..

.. but she made herself clear in a way that fail mere words, and yes, a lot of these words she did use) � "If you treat me the way I need to be treated ..

.. I would like that. But if you can't, I understand .. tho I cannot help it. And I will have to find someone else, and it usually isnt too terribly difficult, trust me. But if you do .. uh, I will make it worth your while. So think about it. You already know how fucked up I am. This is who I am. I like it when it hurts. I *love* it. You cannot imagine. I *need* it, actually. Sure I know that I'm fucked up. I've been talking to shrinks half my life. I've seen all kinds. This one I have now, this lady-shrink, is very confrontational. I've told her about you. Were you ears ringing yesterday? If you don't feel like hurting me right now .. I can probably fix that. I have many years of practice. You may be a challenge .. but I like challenges. I'm sure I could think of something. Tho, I must say, if you resist .. I am not responsible for myself. Sure, I like these girls, but they dont give me what I need. That's not who I am now. I've already done all that stuff that they're experimenting with. Tho the older women, especially the wealthy ones, they seem to give me something I never got from my mom. In other words, I can be reasoned with. Let's get real, we all know you have the beast inside. You are presenting a nice facade, sure. I admit it. But I know all about constructing an impressive facade. So I can see right thru that shit. Did you notice that I sent you those flowers the day after you hurt me so beautifully? After you threw me around the room for an hour? Yeah, you're catching on. You may be a bit slow coming out of the blocks, but once you see the light, you catch on quickly. I need more of that. Lots more. I can show you places. Places that I'm pretty sure you will like. But I'm telling you now, there are minefields. So don't come crying to me if you get your dang foot blown off. Seems like everybody gets their foot blown off. Don't say I didnt warn you. I wouldnt even be talking to you if I didnt think you had a chance. You already know that I have the combination to your ass .. the passkey to your soul. I know you better than you know yourself. Guys are so stupid about some things. I've shown you too much, actually. You wouldnt even know that I'm bulimic if I didnt tell you. I am very good at hiding it. I've had many years of practice. There's so much more that I need to share with you and I can see that I fascinate your ass. You're a very good listener. That means a lot to me. And you communicate well. Very well. Do you have any yogurt? Wanna go get some?" Bulimics like yogurt cuz it neutralizes the acid in our stomachs better and is of a consistency that "comes up" more easily. But you need to know that there are very specific times when I need what I need and you need to become sensitive to this need of mine. Because, if you get it right, and sometimes I am all-girl and cannot communicate guy-language, I would if I could. So I need you to be intuitive. Welcome to my world, bitch. Let the insanity begin. Wanna see these new lace-top thigh-highs that I just picked up at Nordys? Yeah, at South Coast. Do you prefer the cream or the navy? Do I not have the most perfectly toned and muscular legs that you've ever seen? That's what all the ladies told me last week. Wait 'til I tell you *that* story. You won't believe it. Do you see this line of definition here that separates my quads from my hamstring? They love that. It drives them crazy. Tho I must say .. three girls on you at once .. after you've trained them properly. That can be nice .. on a rainy day. Have you ever had three girls on you? It's me they want, but they will do what I tell them to. I was taking it easy on you in the beginning .. feeling you out. But now I'm gonna start dressing more girly, okay? No more jeans and flannel shirts. I have a jean dress that I think you might like. I will start you with that and see how you respond. Dressing girly might be a clue that you need to learn .. feel me? Isnt it great that we can have such an open and honest conversation? We would make beautiful children .. you must admit. We both have very fine hair. So our children would, too. Can't you see how alike we are? You're fucked up, too. Actually, you might be even MORE fucked up than me .. cuz you dont even know that you're fucked up. Here, let me show you what I mean."

And I am thinking, "Wow. You are *waay* more fucked up than I thought. And I must say, I thought you were pretty fucked up." And shit like this kept happening. Again and again.

[ That huge block of text was my first try at stream-of-consciousness ala Joyce.

Didnt I tell you that I was going to wax avant-garde today?

Tho I must admit .. I never imagined that this would be it.

I must say ..that felt very organic. So I cant help but wonder how it came off to the reader.

By organic, I mean that is feels like it happens on it own .. as a natural outgrowth.

Kind of an 'of-course-ness' to it.

Not forced. Not hurried.

Here is a more scientific look at 'streams' of consciousness. ]

Questions such as this became routine » "Why should I take you to an expensive restaurant if you are just going to throw it up 45 minutes later?"

[ To which she responded, "I still get nutrition from it. That's why I wait 45 minutes. But if you dont want to go to an expensive restaurant, I can understand that." ]

Tho maybe I should note that the lace-top thigh-highs came after the denim dress. (You know how that stream-of-consciousness avant-garde stuff is.)

By the time we got to the lace-top thigh-highs .. I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. You feel like the gods are smiling on you. Spoon-feeding you the finest reserve ambrosia. In spite of you, even.

Like she was a creature from another galaxy .. sent to bring me a message. Can you tell that I got the message?

"Take me to your leader."

The contrast between her dysfunctional mind and her remarkably fit body .. I don't know if I've ever been able to resolve that. I may just be keeping each in its own separate container.

» Bringing Out the Panther in Me

She was very fit, physically .. without even trying, it seemed.

I never saw anything on her that did not bring out the pather in me.

She is (one of) the reason(s) why I am attracted to small-breasted women. (Nothing goes to waste.) 

[ You will find not much in the way of breasts on a python .. as it coils around you. ]

Oddly enough, one of the most touching moments came when she offered to let me watch her throw up.

[ She was a real pro, from what she told me. Hands on hips. Bend forward at the waist 45-degrees.

She taught me some technique .. in case I even turned bulimic.

But I declined (.. to watch). People are only so strong, you know.

I saw a lot of shit with her, but that was something I just could not bear. ]

But I do not think the statute of limitations is up on her yet. Or maybe I could apply for a waiver. Cuz lots of stuff that I find fascinating involve her. From a mental health perspective, especially.

She is the girl who told me, "Some people are broken. Like a plate. Yes, you can try to put back the pieces ..

.. but they are still broken. And you can never fix them."

What do you think about her statement?

I must say, when I heard her say that, I thought, "If anybody would know..." I mean, she spoke with an air of authority .. in that area.

I guess, what she is talking about is the psychological equivalent of maiming.

There is a certain respectability that comes when you can say, "I been there. What would you like to know? Would you like me to share some of things that I find particularly interesting?"

But I can at least tell you the story she told me about a walk thru the woods with her dad (.. so maybe environment has something to do with it) ..

And her dad replied, "I dont know why, honey. I think maybe because I thought you could handle it."

Now, that's not much of an owning up .. but it's a hell of a lot more than the Dog got. An admittance and an apology. It doesnt mean that all the bad shit never happened, no. It's merely a step toward overcoming the dysfunction.

I will also say that she described her parents as Tiger-mom style. High pressure to succeed. In multiple areas. From a very early age.

I talked to her mom on the phone once when she called looking for her daughter, and the mom sounded very nice to me. A little concerned, maybe. As might be understandable from the stories that her daughter had told me.

She was not from California. Her mom called from far away, another state, but I am not going to tell you which. Think mountains and lakes.

» The Girl at the Gas Station at Midnight in San Clemente

Oh yeah. Remind me to tell you the story of how I met her. That's a good story. Midnight at a gas station in San Clemente ..

.. where she starts asking questions about my 911 that show she knows all about the subtle variations ..

.. until the guy on my shoulder says » "Dude, this girl is very interesting .. doncha think?"

And while I was thinking this, she came over, grabbed my left hand, pulled out a click-pen and clicked it and wrote her name & number on my palm.

I was actually so surprised that I could think of nothing to say (.. rare for me, yes) .. until I saw that she was a lefty.

"Is it true?" I asked, "that lefties are more creative?"

She finished writing and looked up at me. (She was probably 5'4" or 5'5".) She made solid eye contact, almost intimate, standing kissably-close, clicked off the pen and said, "I *am* creative."

Then called out over her shoulder as she walked away, "Give me a call sometime, but not for the next few days. I want to take it for a spin. I've never driven a Carrera of that year before. I've heard they got great torque."

"This girl knows about torque?" I thought, as she climbed in her pick-up and started it up. As she started to roll away she put her window down and asked, "Have you ever driven it on the track?"

"No," I said .. feeling a hint of little-dicked-ness.

At that she took off. No more eye contact. Tho she called out a few seconds later, "Maybe I'll show it things it's never seen then."

How dare she imply that she could drive my car better than me?

A 911 is a tricky car to drive, and even trickier to drive well.

Because the engine is in the back.

There is nothing up front except for two wheels and a gas tank. Get it?

Opposite most cars. And 911's dont come with automatic transmissions. Standard 5-speed shift only.

But she was gone. The opposite way that I go. I head toward the ocean. She drove away from it, toward the mountains .. where she lived in a gated community. Tho I did not know that at the time.

» Shrunken Heads and Gutted Pigs

If this girl had one distinguishing talent, it was definitely » fucking with the male head. Insanity.

I'm not sure she could help herself, to be honest. Or to what degree, might be a better way to say it.

It is only fitting that I pay her tribute in an entry that contains the words 'poetic license' in its title.

She did tell me once (as I lay there bleeding) » "You're the strongest man I've ever met."

Some of the greatest compliments that I've ever received from a girl .. came when they werent necessarily trying to pay me a compliment.

She had managed to get to a place [ inside my soul ] for which I had no defense .. and then proceeded to do surgery. Very impressive execution.

You learn quickly from shit like that. This is the girl who said to me (figuratively speaking), "I dont think you really know yourself, bitch."

To which I responded (also figuratively) » "You got a point there."

There is a scene in Mr & Mrs Smith where Angelina Jolie kicks Brad Pitt on his ass and then chuckles saying, "Who's your daddy now?"

I thought of this girl when I saw that scene.

One of the mechanisms that Dostoevsky likes to use ..

.. I am thinking of The Brothers, and also Crime & Punishment.

But this mechanism involves someone befriending you until you completely trust them.

Then they gut you like swine on the day of a feast .. relishing the slaughter.

There is a discussion that this kind of 'betrayal' fucks you up the worst.

From my admittedly limited experience, I would not object.

The deeper message perhaps is that friendship is more a matter of convenience than might appear.

Of course, Dostoevsky has this going on every other chapter.

But back to bulimia.

You will find that bulimia is very much associated with sexual abuse or things of a sexual nature. The vomiting is a physical attempt to help expel these yucky, toxic feelings.

I do not want to leave the impression that this girl had been sexually abused by her dad. She hadnt. No. But there was other stuff .. that I simply can't share. Not comfortably.

This girl had been in therapy since early teens. A plethora of skilled therapists had plied their trade on her over the years.

So when it came time to ply back .. she was very good. She could exploit your vulnerabilities like no other.

I mean, we all have our strengths and weaknesses. And if someone tries to critique you, and it doesnt resonate, you tend to dismiss their critique.

But if a person brings a valid point to the table .. one that something inside says, "She's got a point there. A valid point." Those things get in, and they hit their mark.

My point is » she got *waay* in. After her intense training, no other woman has been able to mind-fuck me nearly as well. And it aint cuz they havent tried .. let me tell you.

Sometimes when she was in an especially good mood .. she would bring over her girlfriends. To meet me. Sorta.

» We're Comin' Over | Do You Have Any Wine?

Older women. After they had spent the night on the town .. dining at fancy restaurants .. drinking wines with names that are hard to pronounce, dancing, and maybe even stopping by a strip-club.

And let me tell you .. these girls were looking gooder than good. Downright incendiary. The sexuality flaring off them. And these girls are feeling good. Very good. "Do you have any wine?"

It was usually a Saturday nite .. a hot, sultry Saturday nite. I would get a call, "Hey, we're coming over. Could you put on some music?"

She never asked if she could come over. I never refused. Dude, if you are able to say no to this then maybe you are a better man than me .. at least, in this.

[ Speaking of the moral judgment of some so-called Christians ..

.. note that scripture says, "by their love shall all men know."

Not by their vitriol. So it seems that not everybody got the message. ]

"We want you to watch."

Whenever she came over with the girls, she always had the feminine dialed way up. And it made the masculinity in the other girl come out .. in surprising ways. For me, shocking.

[ We are talking about married women .. happily married, from all observable accounts .. tho obviously bored with daddy .. with small children at home. Women driving big expensive SUV's. "Where should I park this monster?" ]

As tho she were able to elicit masculine feelings and tendencies from women. The aggressiveness. No, I do not understand this .. but I know what I see.

Last time I heard from her was while she was leaving a message on my answering machine (remember those?) .. saying she had been in a bad car wreck, but is out of the hospital now.

I started to reach for it, but something stopped me. She never left a phone number and never called back.

In retrospect it was as if she said, "This is your last chance and if you do not pick up the phone right now, you will regret it and rue the day forever."

This girl had one brother (older), no sisters. [ Refer to my theory. ] Brother PhD in what I forget. Girl not happy that mom favors the boy. I won't elaborate. But, when something comes up multiple times .. you know.

"He gets a PhD; I get a sack o' shit." [ No, she didnt use those exact words. ]

Sure, I realize that some of this is racy and risque. But chicks love this shit .. relationship shit.

I mean, I have had girls throw sex at me for less racy stuff than what I'm writing here. And my sources tell me that I definitely have female readers. ( "One or two, perhaps." )

But if just one woman comes here because they heard there was something juicy "that you just gotta see" ..

.. and they read enough to catch the c.o.n.t.e.x.t [ of the Dog's mom ] and are inspired to be a better mom ..

.. then hey, I did my job. I get an atta-boy from the boss and a pat on the back .. and some little guy somewhere grows up with a more-loving mom. Feel me?

That's my motivation for writing. (What's your motivation for reading?)

You know what they say » to whom much is given. And skills here I do have, dawg. Practiced skills. Finely honed.

When I started to write this piece about this girl, I first felt sad, cuz she was the only one ..

.. that I know of anyway. Who had a positive experience confronting a parent. But then I felt happy ..

.. cuz I thought » If one parent can do it, then we at least know that it is possible. And possibility always brings hope along with it.

My philosophy toward parenting has always been something that you could boil down to » patience and kindness (.. yes, at the same time).

I admit that I know a good many girls. All kinds, tho my sample might be skewed toward the edgy. Which seems to go along nicely with athletic.

I have had friends tell me that I was flirting with a waitress .. which I denied, "Oh, you do it very naturally. We're not saying that you do it intentionally. But she definitely took it as flirting."

Which I filed under the heading » Know Thyself.

I did not say anything, of course, but thought, "She didnt look unhappy to me." But I have become more conscious of myself, and yes, I flirt easily. It actually seems to happen on its own. Is that possible?

But I need to feel at ease. Speaking of which ..

Have you met this other girl yet? » "I hate guys cuz of my shithead-father, but especially because of this old, shithead-boyfriend .. who screwed me over. Come to think of it, you kinda look like him. By the way .. what are you doing this weekend?"

» Your Energy is What Attracted Me to You

In a tender moment I asked the wow-girl what it was about me at the gas station that night. That attracted her. She did not hesitate. "Your energy."

"My energy? What does that mean? Am I a lightbulb?"

When you say the word 'energy' to a nuclear guy, he immediately thinks in terms of equations and formulas and physics books. E=mc².

This conversation went on for quite some time .. tho I will spare you the details.

I will however tell you that I think of her every time that I see a photo of this girl .. named Cara Delevingne.

They both have those same bold eyebrows ..

.. which gives them both a strong look to their otherwise feminine features.

She had blond hair. Fine blond hair. But dark eyebrows.

Which made them stand out.

Tho Cara is noticeably younger.

I will confess that there was something about the Wow girl's bold eyebrows that turned me on.

And I dont think I was the only one.

This girl here, Cara, reminds me of the Wow girl even more than Lindsay does.

But you hear about Lindsay in the press more often. Far more often.

One of the things that I learned from the wow-girl is that ..

.. if it so happens that you begin to associate your partner's face with pain or negativity ..

.. rather than with happiness and excitement .. that you might normally expect ..

.. that there comes a point where it really doesnt matter whose fault it is.

Or who is more wrong. It simply means that the relationship is � no longer working for you.

In other words, you neednt ruin what intimate things you shared by trying to assign blame after it has run its course.

You just move on, feeling grateful and respectful for what you DID share.

[ And if you didnt share anything good, then why were you even with that person? ]

And yes, if you care about it, you will try to revive things. That's normal.

» Pretending that It's Working for You

But if it's no longer working for you (.. whatever the reason) .. then it's no longer working for you. Are you going to live the rest of your life pretending that it does? Good luck with that.

Now, if you are married and made commitments before a diety .. then that is different. I am not talking about that. (That's between you & your diety.)

And from the other side .. if someone doesnt resonate with you .. if someone doesnt dig you .. that just means they dont see how cool you really are .. so you dont want to hook up with them, anyway.

I find it particularly curious the way some girls play standoffish until another girl shows interest. Then they want to throw your ass down right there on the spot and have their way with you.

» The Girl with the Guns

I have good stories here, yes.

Remind me to tell you the story about the girl-with-the-guns ..

.. with the baby pythons (for arms).

My point is that » it makes me think less of a girl ..

.. when it appears that she can't see that I am a desirable man ..

.. until another girl says » "He is a desirable man."

It makes them look either stupid .. or like they dont know what they want.

If a girl has no hots for me, then I'm cool with that. Sure, my ego will try to tell me that they are faking it .. but I'm really okay with it.

But if they pay me no mind until another girl does .. what does that say? I'm sure George Clooney knows how I feel.

Another thing that I learned from the wow-girl » people can be more fucked up than they look .. especially those who look like they have their shit together.

And sometimes especially those .. who look like they got it going on.

The end. ?

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