If a Girl Talks Endlessly or Never Makes Eye-Contact With You, It's Trouble
I'll Never Forget the Pain
so deep, searing, and numbing--can't ignore numbing. To say nothing about how the pain almost drove me to a mental break-down. I'm telling you here, once and for all, affairs and pains of the heart are far more painful than any sword's sharpened edge.
Have you Ever Hurt Like I Have
Okay. Maybe you are a skeptic.
Pains of the heart can easily be compared to walking with your wife (or husband) and child as you embark on the first day of your annual one-week vacation. This year, you decided to visit the Tourist Favorite: Silver Springs, Fla., You went online and searched the cost of admission, concessions, and motel rates – even the price of the Glass Bottom Boat Ride. You were no fool. You were going to account for every penny you were going to spend on this vacation. I applaud you, Mr. or Ms. Thrifty American Vacationer!
On Monday, around 9 am., you and your family are very excited to visit this wonderful tourist attraction, and the main reason is that this beautiful vacation locale is NOT an amusement park. Everywhere you look are all types of tropical birds with all of their beautiful colors. And the natural landscape with numerous flowers of every color imaginable, well, you have to be proud. You are about to tour Silver Springs with your family and your family loves you for holding out for this place rather than spending those hard-earned bucks in Orlando. No, sir. You are "Mr. or Ms. Thrifty American."
And with other people, the following would not have happened. Other people would have just walked on by like the crowds do in most tourist attractions, but you and your family are not like everyone else. Even those fictitious "Clark Griswald's" on National Lampoon's "Vacation" are Rhode Scholars compared to you. It's not your fault that you were born ignorant. You have been a person to never run from a challenge, but to try. And that is all that you have accomplished is "trying."
But not "this" trip and certainly not "this" ideal vacation spot. So, and if someone with special secret gifts were to whisk you and your family away, what the reader is about to read might catch them as really funny, but not this time. Your pretty wife instructs you to pose with your only child as she focuses her expensive camera (from Big Lots), and your wife the one afflicted with O.C.D. whines and tells you and your child to stand here, there, this way and that way until the Gobi Dessert-like Florida sun maddens you and you say, "please, dear! This looks fine. We don't want to miss the next trip on the Glass Bottom Boat, now do we?"
Your pretty wife smiles. You and your one child also smiles at knowing this photo will hopefully be taken soon and you can get in a nice cool shade out of the Florida sun hotter than the Ninth Ring of Dante's Inferno.
"Dear? What is the matter?" you ask.
"Yeah, mommie! What is wrong?" you cute little girl asks.
"Oh, it's that statue of an alligator where you are standing that is causing the picture to be out of focus. Can you move, please?" Pretty wife advises as you and your little girl look in each other's eyes with the look of disgust.
"Okay . . .now hold it! 1 . . .2 . . .3! And . . .dear! That doggoned alligator is bound to ruin this vacation. Can't you just get one of these helpful Park Employees to come and take the alligator to the Gator House is one exists," Pretty wife says now she is getting impatient.
"Dad, what . . .is . . .that . . ." your little girl tries to say, but you interrupt.
"Shhhh! Just be quiet and we will get you an ice cream cone," you say laughing.
"Shauna, my left leg is itching. Am I standing in a hill of fireants?" you ask.
"Nope, daddy. No fireants," your little girl says to reassure you.
"Okay, dear. This is it. . .1 . . .2 . . .3 and got it! Yes, we got it dear--and that white alligator was in the picture too, but he is soooo cute. Now we can get on the Glass Bottom Boat," Pretty wife says organizing you and your little girl.
"Daddyyyyy, uhhh, you . . .have . . ." your little girl is trying to tell you. But her mother has interrupted.
"Let daddy and me alone for a minute. We need to get our tickets and use the rest room and what is that thing that your daddy has latched on his left shin?" Pretty wife asks now concerned.
What has happened is that the white alligator is not fake. The cheap park employee who is in charge of painting alligators white and giving them a strong shot to put them into a deep sleep has woke up and is eating your left shin . . .blood is spewing on the white sands of this tourist locale. Other tourists are looking at the alligator and pointing at you, but you are a good American vacationer . . .you are not about to be a busy body.
You ended up staying two whole days and nights at a local hospital – to give the antibiotics that the doctor gave you for the alligator bite time to kill whatever poison was in the alligator saliva if any before you can go home – but you aren't worried. 48 whole hours in an air-conditioned private room with 255 channels on a 50" plasma TV and a crew of pretty young nurses to wait on you hand and foot while your wife and little girl are out there somewhere in the tourist spot where you missed the Glass Bottom Road Ride. What a break you got, man! On, the doctors were successful in re-attaching your left leg.
Now for the Real Narrative.
I hope that you did enjoy this vacation tale for I think that everyone deserves a nice comical view of a vacation spot where a rogue alligator almost took a man's leg off for dinner.
This entire get-away began with the first sentence with (a) pain that was deep, searing, and numbing and that was due to this really pretty girl whom I met at work one summer day. We were on break and were, like every employee did on break, sitting around eating or slurping coffee or whatever was cold and I mean sodas.
There she sat. A vision of pure loveliness. A natural beauty with perfectly tanned shoulders, arms and what skin of her nice legs that I was able to see. I was smitten. I took it on myself to go over to her table and introduce myself. "Hi. My name is Ken. What's yours?"
"I'm Violent. It is so nice to meet you. How long have you been working here?" she asked while I was soaking in those perfect brown eyes.
"Ohhh, 'bout two years, but soon, I want to do something different where I can make money. And you?" I explained while loving how pretty she had styled her long, brunette hair.
"I am just here for the college summer break and save some money for the fall semester," Violet replied now staring right into my eyes which might have been filled with tears for I had never met a girl so nice and so pretty at the same time.
"Well, there's the get back to the Salt Mines, giggle, time to go back to work." Violet says getting up from her break table.
"Yeah . . .you are right. (sigh). Hey, do you think that I could call you, maybe tonight, and uhhh, just talk?" I asked full of hope.
"Sure. Here's my number. (writes her number down on a napkin that was laying on a table in the Break Room.) and if you call, I hit the bed early, so I can talk around six – after I eat,"she explained while I loved her eyes twinkling.
I quickly stored the priceless napkin and hid it securely while I went back to work – and for the rest of that day, (which seemed a year long), all I could think of was Violet, her gorgeous eyes, hair, figure, and her laugh that made chill bumps pop out all over my body.
At dinner, I was nowhere near hungry for thinking about Violent, who I had just met at work and the more that I thought about her, the more that I wanted to talk to her. The hour was 5:45 pm., Close enough. With the napkin in hand, my finger was shaking as I punched in her number. On the third ring, she answered. The first thing that I said was how nervous I was in waiting for her to answer and I heard her beautiful laugh--so feminine and beautiful.
We talked for half an hour for I wasn't about to wear out my welcome. But she suggested that we see each other at work the next day and talk at both break times and eat our lunch together. I was in heaven, I tell you. Pure heaven.
During the next two weeks, we would call and talk and she would share things about her life to me and I would do the same and I could hardly get a word in edge-wise, but that was certainly no problem. I had met Violent. What a blessing she was.
My next step of getting to know Violent was asking her out for a date. I was more nervous now than when I had met her that blessed day at work in the Break Room. I spent a lot of time praying and practicing how I would approach Violent as I worked my way up to asking for a date – and this, my friends, was hard work. While I was in the process of preparing to ask her out, I kept thinking, how much her friendship meant to me our relationship was still in its infancy.
In about three days, I got my nerve up and as we ate lunch in the Break Room at work, I just came out and asked her to go out with me – maybe for a nice dinner and a movie. Violent, always armed with her sharp sense of humor, asked, what took you so long, and laughed until she almost cried.
Friends, if there really was a Cloud Nine, I was on it by Violet agreeing to let me take her out. I spent a good $250.00 on a new shirt, pants, and a sweater just to be able to dress nice as possible when I was to take her out on the next Saturday night. I was beyond excited. I was all thumbs at trying to do even the simplest of things. And even now, as early as it was, I begun to think that maybe Violent was "the" girl for me to have a long and lasting relationship – maybe marriage. I had read an interesting article a few weeks ago about 'love being the most predictable power in the universe,' but I didn't put much stock in stories like that.
Time went very slow for the days prior to taking Violet. Each time my cell (or home) phone rang, I just knew it was her asking for a rain check or someone in her family was sick preventing us from going out. I was a chronic worrier.
On the Friday night before she agreed to go out with me, she had a drastic idea: she asked me to meet her at her apartment building, and that she would be standing in the front and I really didn't think anything about her thinking – except that, and yes, my male ego was working overtime, she wanted to see me as quickly as possible.
Saturday came and found me without sleeping one wink. I had tossed and turned and imagining endless things about what might derail our date, but I kept reassuring myself and asking, what was I worrying about? Violent agreed to meet me in front of her apartment building and I had not heard anything to the contrary.
With the new wardrobe, I felt great. The sun was shining, the birds singing, the Saturday morning was absolutely great. I even hummed a few of my favorite tunes as I ate my breakfast, read the news from the paper and drank a few cups of coffee which had become my ritual. I was even relaxed, but still had Violet on my mind and each time that I thought of her, I smiled. I might have fallen in love.
The drive to her apartment building was close to being twenty minutes long. I was very nervous – getting to take this lovely girl out for a fun evening. I would wager that my blood pressure was up a few points, but I didn't mind. I was going to take Violet out.
When I turned in from the service road that ran parallel to her apartment building, I seen her standing in the front of her apartment building – looking so cute in her pretty sun dress. She had the perfect figure and I was feeling so blessed at just knowing her name. I couldn't wait to hold her hand and talk to her. I hadn't been with a girlfriend in months due to another break-up from a girl who was just so annoying that I could not stand being with her one more moment.
I got out of my car and was smiling as I halfway ran to embrace her and hear her feminine voice. A slight breeze was blowing her sun dress revealing her gorgeous tanned legs and her brunette hair was flying like a flag – I was about to have a heart attack from seeing such a beautiful girl.
"Hi, you look great, Violent," I said with my eyes that I knew had grew so wide in viewing her beauty.
"Oh, you! Thanks. I thought it might rain today," she said looking down.
"Are you okay? You're not sick . . .please say that you ARE NOT sick," I said almost bellowing. I was not about to be dealt a hand that spelled TROUBLE again with the other girl who had ruined my nerves.
"Noon, I'm sorry. I apologize, it's just . . ." she said before I interrupted.
"Whatever it is, is fine. We are going to get in that car and we are going to dinner," I said forcefully. Violent smiled as we walked to my car.
"What were you going to say?" I asked her. I knew that she appreciated my care for her.
"Well . . . .I just cannot believe that my sister, the stupid oaf, would do something so low and selfish as to borrow a huge sum of cash from our parents and did not bother to pay them back . . .I mean, really. She has been living with our parents and never had a job to speak of and our parents gave her food, clothing and a roof over her head. What else could they do but demand that she leave their house," Violent explains.
"But Violent, I, uhhh," tried to understand, and she interrupted again.
I can tell that you have never been exposed to such a low life as my sister. I don't even want you to know her name; but she is a thief, I tell you. Lazy and low down are her best attributes. Take me for instance. I am three years older than she is and from the age of 17, I had a job, made As in school and worked my way through college as a Pharmacist Apprentice and this whore stayed with my parents munching Doritos and watching TV – I bet that she had no respect for herself much less our parents as to . . .
"Uhhh, Violent, uh, maybe he . . ." I said quickly before Violent interrupted again.
drag her doofus-of-a-boyfriend who she had only known for a month and have no self-respect as to bring the lazy bum back to our home and pile up on our folks to support. I tell you this, I cannot really appreciate the people of this society, and I can tell you another thing . . ."
Violent continued talking from the time we got into my car to the restaurant, at dinner, through dinner and to the theater. She told me NON-STOP about her parents, their lives, work ethic, and her sister's Criminal Background that the police has on her and she didn't stop talking during the film we had agree to see--some of the theater patrons got irritated and Shhhh us, but Violent just kept on talking.
Yes, she continued to talk as I drove her back to her apartment. Never once did she ask anything about me. Not one minor thing – not any questions if I liked sports, didn't like sports, anything. This girl was a Non-Stop Talking Machine and those beautiful lips just kept on talking. How could a person have that much oxygen in their lungs to keep going so long talking?
Guys, beware. I am telling you the truth. But if you LIKE girls who love to talk your head off, by all means, date her, take her to dinner, breakfast for that matter. You might love girls whose mouth is in the Wide-Open position. I don't. Sometimes, not all of the time, I like to talk "some" about who I am and what I like and don't like – just like a normal person.
I said BEWARE. Find out everything about your new female friend if you are toying with the idea of asking her out. If you are of a nervous type of guy and a girl who does ALL of the talking makes you edgy, do NOT ask her out. Keep your sanity.
And I take part blame for Violent talking me to death. It was me as I gave her a compliment of having such a feminine voice. I did say that. And I repented before God for ever saying that. I was dead-wrong. Dear Lord, what was I thinking?
If she had only given me a clue about her only wanting to talk TO someone, not ABOUT someone, I would have understood. Honest. But Violent did not say anything like that. She just opened the gate and the river let go. I was overcome with millions of her words, ideas, and thoughts – and she never bothered to ask me any questions. Just talking. Just explaining the problem with her lazy, no good sister . . .and there it was.
After we broke up on the way home to her apartment, I tried interrupting her just long enough so I might get her parents' home phone number.
God only knows how lonely a single guy can get.
And . . .as a Special Added Romantic Tip, I want you to pay close attention to the photos of those lovely ladies that I chose to adorn "this" narrative. Look at the girl's expression on the face of the girl at the top and now that you have absorbed the Valuable Advice that you have benefited from, you might want to stay on your toes and while you are scoping-out your next pretty girl you are just dying to date, take this tip along with your future date who really doesn't talk that much, but when she does kick in and give you that Far Away Look on her face while rifling you with talk about clothes, jobs, other guys and things NOT about you . . .just tell the girl that she is a lovely girl and you would love for you and her to be friends. "Just" friends.
© 2018 Kenneth Avery