by Ayn Dillard
Boyd told me to date and to live—so I will.
“Be at peace
and see
a clear pattern and plan
running through
your lives.
Nothing is by chance.”
—Eileen Caddy
MONEY ISN’T EVERYTHING
‘The Ad’
“Life’s full and overflowing with the new.”
Weary of being alone as it’s nearing Valentine’s Day, I want to have some fun. Why can’t I just meet a man I enjoy enough to share dinner and a movie? It’s way past time to get myself out of this slump and if Boyd doesn’t return, I don’t want to end up crushed.
Perhaps, Richard’s correct that there could be a better man coming. Another man, who’ll be able to put me first with no children, or at least with grown ones, who will stay instead of leave, be nurturing, successful, fun, and able to have a sex orgy almost every day. Um, sounds too good, not to give it a try. Could be the very reason, Boyd had to leave.
On this cold dreary day that’s really depressing. I’m tired. So, I decide to not workout. I pick up something healthy to eat along with an Observer newspaper because I enjoy reading the horoscopes. I chuckle, I could sure use some guidance from the stars about now.
After eating, I snuggle into bed with the newspaper. Flip through it, but don’t find any horoscopes, so instead scan over the ads for ‘men seeking women’. What a hoot!
Then for some crazy reason, I decide to answer the one with the heading, ‘Money Isn’t Everything.’ It’s a man living in Oklahoma and good ole Oklahoma sure sounds good about now. Tired of Texas men, so perhaps, one from Oklahoma would be a nice change. What have I got to lose? What he says sounds nice and appears he’s looking for a real relationship. States he’s tired of playing games. So, I respond to his ad. Clean up around the house, throw the Observer away then lie down to watch some TV. Fall asleep for a couple of hours then I wake up and begin emptying the dishwasher. While putting up silverware, the phone rings. Tired and grumpy and not really wanting to talk to anyone, I answer anyway.
“Natalie?” An unfamiliar but friendly voice inquires.
“Yes, what is it?” I snap.
“This is Art. Did you answer an ad in the Observer?”
“Um yeah, I think I did.”
“Well, I’m the ad.”
“Oh, I threw the newspaper away and don’t even remember what the ad said. I fell asleep and just woke up. So, who are you and what do you want?” grumpy but teasingly, as I think—just great—what’ve I gotten myself into now? Who is this guy anyway?
“I’m the guy from Oklahoma.” chuckles, “and not used to people talking to me quite like that.”
Realizing I must sound like a shrew, so I respond politely but teasingly. “Well then, I’ll ask again nicely. Who exactly are you and why’d you run an ad in Dallas when you live in Oklahoma?”
“I used to live in Dallas—still have an office there—more girls in Dallas—more to choose from and thought it’d be nice to meet some new people. I’m in Dallas quite often.”
“Um, where exactly do you live in Oklahoma?”
“Oklahoma City. What’s all that noise in the background?”
“Hold on a minute, let me finish emptying the dishwasher.”
“Would ya like me to call you back?”
“No that’s okay, just give me a second.” I quickly finish up. “Okay now, let me walk to my bedroom then we can talk.” I snuggle into bed.
He asks, “Okay, are ya ready to talk now?”
“Yes, sorry about all that, but I can’t believe you called so quickly.”
“I just got home and had the message from you. You were the first to call and I think first is best. You have a beautiful voice.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“So, you’re a writer?”
“Yeah, I write, do some voice overwork and stress management consulting. I was once an interior designer then years ago a ballet dancer.”
“Yep, that’s what you said in your message. You sound interesting. People who write are usually quite logical and intelligent then like I said your voice is lovely.”
I inquire, “What do you do?”
“I’m a venture capitalist and have an office in Dallas. Lived there but decided to move to an easier place to maneuver. I hate the traffic and mentality in Dallas, so moved back home.”
I inquire, “So, you’re originally from Oklahoma?”
“Yes, lived here pretty much all of my life. Attended Oklahoma University and have a doctorate in finance. I’m on the OU board of regents.”
“Um impressive, one of my husband’s went to OU and was a finance professor there years ago. Did you know him? His name is Dustin James.”
“Never heard of him, it’s a big campus.”
“Sure is. I used to live in Oklahoma, then came to the Dallas area to get married, but it went bad immediately. So now, I am left with a house and a life here. The longer I’m here, the more I like it and have made lots of friends.”
He asks, “So you’re originally from Oklahoma, huh?”
“Yes.”
He asks, “Why’d you answer my ad?”
I answer, “I really don’t recall. I date some and was thinking it might be nice to meet some new people. Flipped through the paper saw, ‘Money Isn’t Everything’, and was compelled to answer.” I chuckle as I tease, “I was possessed by an adventure waiting to happen, so responded to your ad.”
He laughs, “I’m an adventure all right, a real roller coaster ride.”
“Sorry, but I don’t recall much about what you said. I already threw the paper away and I’m really tired today. After answering your ad, I immediately fell asleep. I barely even remember answering it. Why’d you run an ad again?”
“I want to meet a special person who’ll grow into a long-term relationship and because I knew you were there. I knew you were in Dallas, somewhere.” He chuckles.
I respond, “Oh really, so have you met many other people?”
“No, like I said you were the first and I think first is best. There were other messages. Except, you were the only one who didn’t sound desperate and you have a beautiful voice.”
“Um, really?” I reply as I think. Yeah right, could be that I’m only killing time until my true love returns, besides ‘desperate’—give me a break. “Why would I be desperate?”
“Well, most the girls answering my ad sound that way. Then some of the women, I know and date seem desperate especially the ones with children. I’ve no desire to be the daddy to someone else’s kids. Why’d you answer an ad again?”
I respond, “I agree on the kid part. And as I said, I have no idea, except I date but haven’t met anyone special and thought your ad sounded interesting.” Except for Boyd, of course, the man I love. “Barely remember what your ad said. Why don’t you like children?”
Art answers, “I like children as long as they belong to other people. At one time, I entertained the idea of having kids, but no longer. Now I’m ready to have some fun. Kids take up too much time and energy. Besides, I have a nephew and niece that I’m like a father to. Their father was killed in Viet Nam. I’m close to them and real close to my sister. My sister’s an incredible person.”
We do have the ‘kid thing’ in common and nice that he’s close to his sister. The more I hear him talk, his thick twangy country accent is unusual, but comes and goes as if he lays it on thicker depending on what he’s saying then lets it go when he becomes more serious. I inquire, “How many times have you been married?”
“Twice, once for a longer time then I’ve been divorced for about nine months after a short year and a half marriage to a Russian girl.”
“A Russian girl, how’d that happen? Were you mail ordering a bride?” Chuckle, this guy might be a weirdo and that’s why he goes to such links to meet women. Oh, well, he’s entertaining to chat with and is passing time—so why care? His voice has a hint of mischievousness, but I us
ually don’t care much for ‘country twang’. Only for some reason, I am enjoying talking with this guy. Geez, I must be really lonely and bored.
He responds chuckling, “No, I was in Russia doing some business, met a girl and fell in love. It just happened, wasn’t planning on it.”
I inquire, “Okay, but why didn’t it work out?” Bizarre—this man marries a Russian girl and now he’s running an ad to meet someone out of his state. Also, the more I hear his country twang, it’s becoming irritating. Oh well, what could I expect from an ad? Entertaining, but I’ll probably never meet the guy anyway.
He answers, “She changed once she got here. She had some real major character flaws.”
“Oh, I’m sorry—like what?”
He responds, “Well, I don’t want to really get too into it, but drinking, running around and spending a ton of money.”
“Perhaps, it was the newness of being in America with all the freedom and goodies.” As I think, give me a break buddy. An impoverished Russian girl and you didn’t think there’d be some major problems.
“Yeah that’s what I thought at first, but it was way more than that and it just got worse.”
I state, “Sorry, divorce is awful. How long did you say it’s been?”
“Nine months, the bitch used me. She was a whore. Was only after money and what she could get, but I didn’t find out until it was too late.”
Hearing this, I think—here we go again, another man blaming everything on a woman while not seeing, much less owning his part in it. Then I ask, “Don’t you think if you were being honest with yourself that you’d have seen this in her earlier? A poor girl from Russia marrying a rich American, you must’ve had concerns about the situation?”
“Not really—I tested her out for quite a while—to see her in all types of situations—traveled to Russia five times to observe her in all sorts of circumstances with her family and other people. She totally fooled me. When she got here with more opportunity for her real side to emerge, she changed. She has huge personality flaws. She wasn’t able to over spend and drink in Russia because she didn’t have any money. When I first saw her, she was practically living under a bridge. It’s so depressing over there. Like the world is in black and white and you’re waiting for it to change to color, but it never does. It takes a good while to get over the depressed feelings after you return.”
“My point exactly. So, you had to suspect this was coming? I mean, a poor girl from Russia. What an adjustment she had and didn’t it ever occur to you she was only using you to get the hell out of there? How and where did you meet her anyway—under a bridge, you said?” As I think, um what a position of control, he held over a woman this dependent. This sounds overly weird. Oh, well, just passing time and he is entertaining with his strange accent.
He adds, “No not at the time, like I said—I checked her out. When I first saw her on the street, I felt something for her immediately. I knew instantly, but shit, the girl was practically homeless. I took care of her and even sent money to her family. Shit, I took care of the whole God damned family. I miss the dad. He was a neat man.”
As he talks, I think to myself—It’s so clear. What you saw Art was the hurt and alone part of you. That’s why you connected so strongly to her and couldn’t see past your own feelings to the truth of why you were attracted. You were trying to save yourself. Not thinking you can save yourself—you attract someone hoping if you save her, that she’ll love you and be grateful forever. She didn’t, wasn’t, and now you’re bitter because you didn’t get what you wanted which was to be the hero and in control of her life. You loved and married the hurt part of yourself and tried to heal it. Bet subconsciously, you thought if you loved her, saved her, then she’d love you back and then you’d feel better about yourself. Only it doesn’t work that way, unless the other person wants it to and is ready to heal at the same time and along with you. A manipulation going on—she used you, you used her, then when it was over you felt betrayed because she didn’t feel indebted. Geez, bet the girl didn’t feel much of anything. She only wanted to get out of Russia and to feel ‘safe’. After she got out, she didn’t want your control anymore. She was gone because escape was all there was ever going to be between you. She wanted away from you fast because she didn’t want to feel owned.
Wow, I’m so good at analyzing others, now if I could only figure things out for myself. Except doing similar things in my life, is how I can recognize it in others. Trying to save people, hoping they’ll in turn save me back. It’s never worked for me either, Art. Perhaps, that’s our connection, our mirror, the reason for this phone conversation.
Art continues talking with heightened emotion. “She just turned into a whore.”
I flinch, “Gosh, those are harsh words to say about a woman you were once married to, Art. Must’ve been nice to temporarily have so much control over someone, a poor girl from another country and you bring her over here.” He’s obviously not over the hurt and is stuck in his humiliation of being betrayed. Then his failure at not being able to control what he’d thought to be such a sure thing. Um, he’s so into control and ego that he may never get past it. His self-esteem so low, he thinks all he is—is control.
He continues his litany, “Well, that’s what she is and it wasn’t like that at all! I didn’t want to control her! I didn’t want to control her!” He snaps in anger.
“Do you still love her? Do you still have feelings for her?”
“Hell, no, I hate the bitch. Let’s change the subject.”
I silently chuckle as I sarcastically think, well no, not much, you’re not over her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, just asking questions to get to know you. Meeting this way is strange, just asking questions here, dude, to get to know you—no big deal.”
“I can’t believe what you just said. Hate it when people use the word, ‘dude’ but when you say it, it doesn’t bother me—even sounds cute. And why strange? It’s fun meeting this way. A new person and finding out about them. Hell, why does it matter how you meet someone anyway?”
“Well true, I guess it really doesn’t. This is just as good a way as any. Besides I felt compelled to answer your ad but then immediately fell asleep. Barely even remember doing so. The universe must’ve wanted us to meet for some reason, some strange and mysterious reason. I really think things happen for a reason, don’t you?” I ask—half serious and half teasing.
He states, “It’s destiny. I wanted to meet someone who doesn’t play games. Am tired of people who play games and you sound nice, I’d like to meet you.”
I comment, “I can assure you, I’m not into games. What you see is what you get or rather what I am.” As I think, only Art I think you’re into games with yourself big time.
“Good because I meet these women and they’re into games. They’re trying to find fathers for their children or husbands they can live off of. They’re only after a man’s money.”
Here it is again, complaining about how women are out to get them for their money. “Oh, I know what you mean. Men who are constantly coming onto me trying to get me into bed become extremely boring because I’m looking for a long-term and genuine relationship. I do eventually want to be married, but only if I find my special person, my true soul mate—a genuine connection and attraction.”
“Well, I could have any woman I want—like a flavor of the month club. Could have a different woman every month, use her up then toss her aside. If I wanted to—that is. Girls go crazy over someone with money. They’ll do anything.”
“Oh, really, well most anyone could do that if they wanted to. I could sleep with as many men as I want because I’m attractive. I could get them to buy me things, use them—then dump them, but so what? Why would I want to do that? It’d be meaningless and shallow.” As I think—what a jerk with such a huge ego. “Sex is a very special connection between a man and a woman.”
Art says, “I know, Natalie. It’s a gift. A woman’s giving you a gift when she gives you he
r body. It’s special, real, real special. Really, I want to wait and find my unique woman before I have sex again. I’m thinking, if I go ahead and have sex with someone, get into something with someone not so special. I might miss my soulmate. Therefore, I’m waiting for that unique and exceptional person. So, I promise you, I’ll not come onto you. I always wait for a woman to kiss me or to give me a sign.”
“Sounds great—exactly what I’m doing. I’m waiting, too. I’m only able to have sex with someone I really care about and what you said is exactly the way I think about sex.” This twangy talking guy talks in circles. It’s unusual hearing a man expound about wanting to wait to have sex, until he finds his soulmate, especially a country kind of a fellow. Of course, this is a judgment on my part. I laugh silently, this guy’s a hoot and full of it. Then I say, “Sounds weird that you’d wait for a woman to kiss you. It’s manipulative like putting the decision off on her, then you have no responsibility for your actions.”
“No I said, I wait for a sign that the woman’s ready and wanting to be kissed. I don’t pounce on a woman. You’re misunderstanding.”
As I think, I am not misunderstanding this man at all. He’s sounding like one of those country talking, bullshit, arrogant kind of fellows. I chuckle silently as Art continues. “Just hate it when men come onto a woman then retreat. Talked to several women who’ve had this happen to them and think it’s so shitty of a man to do this. I think guys who do this should be shot. You know, they romance a girl, get her into bed then retreat. I just hate that type of behavior.”
“Sure, I agree with you, but a woman likes for a man to be the assertive one. I don’t want to be the one initiating the first kiss.”
“No, no, you’re totally misunderstanding what I’m saying. You’ll see when we meet.”
As I think, I’ve just entered ‘ego city’ and he sounds so insecure while pretending to be secure. He talks as if he has the whole woman deal figured out and he’s master of the game. If he was such a master at the ‘man—woman game’, he wouldn’t have married that Russian woman. Oh, well talking with him is entertaining for the moment.