THREEPEAT Part 1

Ever make the same mistakes with women over and over, or with guys (No Homo)? This is a three part answer to that conundrum and how to escape it. Enjoy!
____________________

Nobody ever gets away with anything...eventually.

Sometimes it's Instant Karma, sometimes it may take decades. For others, who knows, maybe justice awaits them in some other form on the other side.

One thing is certain. No matter how much people think they have escaped, they haven't. All that we are stays with us, because it is us.

So it goes with all failed loves. Each person secretly comes to think, or hope, that they have escaped in some way from the other. The illusion is that now they can find the "right" partner and be free, happy and loved. They are generally quite surprised when they end up in new and equally futureless relationship.

But then, it is always the other person's fault!

In reality, chances are they both walked away with ticking bombs taped to their chests, each doomed to repeat.

How do I know this?

By experience. In fact I am in serious danger of threepeating.

*******

I was roughly awakened at 6:45 this morning by the phone. I was having a nice dream and coming out of it was rough and bleary. Too much alcohol still rumming around my system sucking and destroying every nutrient or chance at a normal morning.

"Fuck off Robert," I quietly groaned, and then replaced the phone in the cradle. I slumped back into bed, part of me wishing I was dead, the other thankful that I have a friend who will buy me coffee on a hot Thursday morning.

I started thinking about the night before and Denise's terse and pointed little attack. I had the audacity to question her about something concerning the kids. She quickly bit my head off then hung up on me.

I guess the monologue was over.

Behind her sweet and cute veneer she is kind of like that little dinosaur in Jurassic Park that looks cute until it suddenly sprays acid in the fat guy's face, jumps violently into the Jeep and eats him.

Same basic principle.

Why do people have to be so mean? I understand that behind anger is hurt. But what is behind mean?

I thought about one of my last relationships which was so sweet until within one week suddenly she turned downright mean on a dime (I consider one week to be a dime relationally. A quarter would be a month of problems; a dollar is a six month decline; a penny is a one-day relational car crash with no survivors).

In the one in question, we had lived together for quite awhile and a few days after the breakup she called and emailed me simultaneously demanding I "come get this fucking Dinosaur out of my yard!"

Dinosaur?

Oh, there was an attached photo. Quite impressive. She and her new boyfriend (it was quite a mourning period for her) had stacked all of my belongings in boxes etc...in the yard on pallets. It was this long massive thing, mostly boxes and boxes of books.

The Dinosaur was a definite Maughamodon.

Then the phone rang again.

I answered in an altered voice,"I think I speak for everyone when I say that this run should be postponed until this platoon is better rested...name that movie", I droned sleepily.

"uh-uh...oh...its ahhhhhh, the Bill Murray one!" says Robert.

"Yeah. Stripes, okay where are we gonna meet?"

"Uh, the usual in ten minutes. Hey, I was watching High Fidelity last night"

"I love that movie. Cusack rocks. You know that guy? I can't remember his name...well, he's written other books, like About a Boy.

"Okay (groan). Hey like that scene with Catherine Zeta Jones when he's just miserable in the rain and she is upstairs with the other guy?"

"Yeah, SOOO COLD," Robert said cheerfully into the phone. "Hey, that was just like that time you had to deal with "the Dinosaur" in your girlfriend's yard."

"Yea, ...We won't be there" she said. Then there she was with Mr. Meathelmet sitting in the shade the entire time...Ha! Okay. I'll be there in 10 minutes or so."

I hung up. I looked and felt like shit. I showered and let the cold water pound me for a good while. Things did not improve in any discernible way.

I went to the window to see if Denise had left with the kids. She hadn't. It's weird being neighbors, but I love being near my kids and they love having me near. They seem to have the best of both of us. They don't spray acid and they don't drink, yet.

I threw pants and an old shirt on and grabbed my shoes just in time. As I walked toward the car, Denise looked over with quick disdain. Cameron jumped out of the van "Dad!" and ran over for a hug. Then I comforted sister who was having a rough go. Denise pretended I did not exist. I can tell that she wished I were dead. She probably fantasizes about it.

I remember once, all those years ago when we were having our tumultuous affair, that she fantasized out loud about my first wife dying. Then, she reasoned, she and I, and my two young kids, could live in joy as a family. I thought at the time that it was a bit harsh, but I was too busy unclasping her bra to take full note of my own future undoing.

Lust is like that.

Final result? Now she fantasizes with her new boyfriend about my demise so they and our two young kids can live in joy as a family.

Nobody ever gets away with anything, but to make sure I kept my ears open as I walked away in case she might try running me over with my former car.

There were no incidents.

____________________

Tommorow Part Two! Please leave comments.