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Talk morphed into coffee and then coffee morphed into dinner. So we went on one date. So what? It was okay, but nothing special. To be honest, I’m not attracted to her at all. Cherise is a skinny little thing with platinum blonde hair and plump pink lips. She wears matching pink velour sweats when she works out, often pairing her sweats with a white sports bra that shows off her nipples. I guess to most guys, Cherise is the very definition of hot with her skinny frame and bottle blonde hair.
But for me, there was nothing. We had nothing in common other than a gym membership. I got the impression that all she cared about was a hot bod and a fat wallet. I was cordial during dinner but was adamant about ending it after dessert. There was no way I was bringing her back to my penthouse, even though she practically begged me for it. I even broke down and told her as kindly as I could that she just wasn’t my type.
Even so, Cherise didn’t take the hint. Either that, or she flat out doesn’t care. She’s been coming around hanging out by me while I’m on the machines at the gym just about every morning since our date. It’s bad enough I have to avoid her where I work out, but now I have to deal with her texting me in the middle of the workday asking me if I want to meet up for drinks. Doesn’t she have a job she should be at?
I ignore the text and slip the phone back into my pocket. It always seems to be like this. There are tons of women around, but none worth having. I try to conjure up the image of the perfect woman for me. She would be sexy, smart, and motivated to make something of herself.
Unbidden, my mind drifts to my daughter’s best friend, Rose. I know it’s wrong. Not only is she my daughter’s friend, but she’s so young too. I try to shake off the thought, and as if in a bad dream, I hear my ex-wife’s voice belittling me in my head.
Get a grip, she’d snigger. That girl’s still in the cradle.
Well, cradle or not, Rose is better than my ex. My God, Nicole was the definition of a beautiful bitch. She had long, silky blonde hair and eyes the color of the ocean. But her looks rendered me blind to her tactics and caused me years of suffering. Don’t get me wrong because I loved her. Well, a part of her at least. At times, Nicole was funny and easy to get along with. She could be playful and very creative when it came to entertaining Lucy, whom we both adored. But my ex had a dark side, and her Machiavellian ways got the best of me far too many times.
To be frank, I think she loved our lifestyle more than she did me. She loved the money, the big apartment, and the fancy dinners. I think deep down she loved us too, but Lucy and I weren’t her top priority. Not even close. As the years went on, Nicole’s patience wore thin. One day, she jumped ship to Europe in order to “find the freedom” her soul needed to “breathe” and “grow.” I still don’t know what that means, but I was livid when I found the note by the front door. I have never forgiven her for walking out on our daughter. On me? Fine. But our daughter is another story, and Lucy was heartbroken when she realized her mom was gone.
I tried to fill the gap, but what man can be both mother and father? It’s impossible. Still, Lucy has turned out to be a wonderful woman, and for that, I am grateful every day.
Plus, looking back, I get angry because Nicole was a vicious bitch. She didn’t hit me or threaten my life or anything like that, but she belittled me non-stop. She broke down my spirit, even if it’s not manly to admit. Every fault and weakness that I have, every inch of self-doubt, she did everything in her power to bring to the surface. And once it was at the surface, she magnified it until it was all I could think about. She used it as a retaliation tactic whenever she felt I had done her wrong.
You see, Nicole is the one who is truly insecure deep down. This insecurity led to immense amounts of jealousy that invoked an envious rage at the smallest trigger. If I paid any woman besides her even the most minuscule amount of attention, she would lose her mind. If I held eye contact slightly too long with the waitress or held the door open for an elderly lady on the way into the store, she viewed it as an act of total infidelity.
