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A Formula for Catastrophe
Take two people, a man and a woman. They can be normal or abnormal. That part doesn’t matter. For the sake of this story, we’ll say they are normal, no Sybils. Also in this hypothetical case, let’s say the woman is older than the man; she has a husband who is away on business much of the time, the man? he is between girlfriends. One day, in a bookstore, the two strangers are standing next to each other in front of the magazines. He is browsing Collector Car magazine. She reaches for Art in America, the magazine slips through her fingers, and he, being a gentleman, picks it up and hands it to her.
Later in the Starbuck’s section, he has a steaming latte in front of him, and she is sipping hot tea. They acknowledge each other with a knowing smile. She notices that he looks somewhat like Sal Mineo. Images of “Rebel Without A Cause” flood her brain. She smiles again thinking what a hottie he is. Oh, but he is way too young for her and she does have a husband. She dismisses her thoughts and goes back to reading “The Forest For The Trees,” a book on writing proposals.
During the day the woman is working on new paintings, filling six Christmas orders for her little irreverent dolls, reading, spending an hour on her Gazelle, running errands, and taking care of her little house and gardens. It is autumn, winter is rushing in fast. So much to do.
Her husband, the power broker, is out of town again. She loves him. She misses him. After dinner alone, she washes the dishes and gets ready to hit the bookstore again. She wants to be home by nine to watch Elimidate, a silly dating show.
The young man is there. She has secretly started to call him Sal to herself.
They start to talk. The conversation goes smoothly. They flirt a bit. Within days they are meeting at the bookstore, talking for long stretches. They bicker like argumentative siblings…”is so” “is not.” She giggles a lot. He likes to play with her. He watches Elimidate too.
He has a ritual of going out driving deep into the night. She is intrigued and when he asks if she would like to join him, she says YES! She loves the night. She loves riding in cars. She likes Sal. They are just friends.
Then one night, when the woman’s husband is in Montreal, she is getting into Sal’s Ferrari and her hand brushes against his hand as he is holding the door. She feels a stirring. She notices that he smells good. She becomes aware of his ass as he walks around the front of the car to get into the driver’s seat. It looks good. She licks her lips.
When she returns home that night she is aware that a collision is going to happen. She can feel it, lust rising up inside of her. She feels the same vibration coming from him. This is not a love connection. She tells him she is out. No more meetings. She is feeling guilty. She is a harpy… about to betray her husband and about to use a man to fill up her loneliness, to satisfy her desires.
Sal will have none of it. “We are just friends.” He says.
On the third ride, while zipping through the star-filled midnight skies, one or both of them (who can remember?) suggest a room at the Day’s Inn in Kenosha. Oh baby…it is magical…the stars, the moon and the sun colliding. He makes her moan. He is happy. She can’t get enough of him.
On the Monday of the fourth week of their “friendship” they discuss the value of murdering the husband. Sal and the woman want both houses and ALL of the money.
And that is what happens when you go too far. Witness it in “Thelma & Louise”, “A Simple Plan”, and in that Nicole Kidman/Joaquin Phoenix movie where she is a bizarre weather person. The evidence is there.
A woman must pay attention to what she blows life into. Many women just blow.
