Chasing Jane.  

Too many Jerks in the Sea: 

This chapter is dedicated to all the jerks in the world.  Now, there are as many jerks out there as there are people.  There are political jerks, financial jerks, dangerous jerks, school jerks, work jerks and that total jerk that has been on your tailpipe since you’ve turned on this road.  Since there is not enough space in the world to cover all the jerks, we will just concern ourselves to the most malicious, salacious, and underhanded of all the jerks; those that affect your love relationship. 

There are both men and women jerks, of course.  Being a jerk is an equal opportunity employer.  There are women jerks, to be sure.  However, in my life, I have observed men as jerks much more than women, so we are going to concentrate on them. There seems to be a consensus that when it comes to jerk-dom, men are easily of greater quantity and eminence.   

The comparative jerk and the beautiful woman:

It was a hot summer afternoon and the band I was playing for “The Nighthawks,” was just finishing a rousing set of solid dance hits.  We were setup on the sun deck of Jolly Bob’s Tiki Beach Saloon on the Northern shore of Lake Wassapamani.  The sun was in my eyes during the whole set, which necessitated the need for my darkest sunglasses. 

Now, some guys can pull off that “I’m cool” look in dark glasses, Congo shorts, and a sweaty Hawaiian shirt.  Not me.  Since my middle age has hit me rather hard, I look more the balloon artist rather than a rock star.  Still, it really didn’t matter because I had it made in the shade.  I had my little band, and we were pretty good.  I also had a good job during the week, which made playing in my band even more of a treat.  But best of all, I had Glinda.  Even her name was poetry.

I know you could ask yourself what a beautiful woman like Glinda is doing with an overfed, losing his hair insurance actuary.  I know I ask myself that every day, and I’m grateful for the answer; because she loves me.  No small feat, for sure.  Even my bachelor friends cannot believe I was dating Glinda. 

She was nearly six-foot tall.  She had willowy, dark hair, long, shapely legs, and a body most men would die just to gaze at from afar.  More than that, she had the darkest, most soulful eyes any human should be allowed and not be from another plane of existence.  Even on our first date, I took one look in her eyes, and I fell dead hot in love with the girl.  Everyone has told me since that I am a lucky man. 

“She’s not…. Well, she’s not anything like the women you normally go out with,” declared the drummer, after leering at her ample charms while also wearing dark sunglasses. 

There is, to paraphrase Frank Zappa, “the crux of the biscuit.”  I have a suspicion that sometimes a woman can be too beautiful.  

There has to be some beauty quotient equality that exist somewhere.  If there is too much beautiful on one side of a relationship, it can spell trouble.  Terms like, “trophy wife” and other unpleasant assumptions are assigned the happy couple. 

“Is she really going out with him,” (Elvis Costello) is playing somewhere in the background. 

The set was over and I was just putting my guitar back on its stand.  I was thinking about finding Glinda and asking if we could have an adult (read nearly naked) swim after the show.  This is explains my stupid smile on my face as I saw Glinda ply her way through the crowd to talk to me.  Unfortunately, I saw that she also had a tag-along.  In slow motion, my gaze switched from her smiling face to that of her companion.  He was even taller than she was, anorexic-skinny, and with nearly the exact same length, color and texture of her hair.  He was perhaps, the most handsome man I had ever seen.  I noticed she had her arm in his, as she was escorting him to me.

“Hi honey,” she said as she leaned over to kiss me with a peck on the lips, “This is my new friend, Chad.  He plays in a band too.”

“Oh, hello there,” Mr. Awesome extends his hand for a shake.  I shake his hand, and notice his grip is formidable. 

He says, “I really love your Gibson guitar.  I play a Fender, myself.”  Even worse!  The guy has a British-sounding accent!  Real or fake?  I have no idea.

“Chad’s here from England for a vacation, and just loves you guys!  He’s been going on and on how talented you all are.  It thought you should meet!” 

Just then, one of her girlfriends grabbed her from behind and wanted her to accompany to the ladies room. 

Within seconds after Glinda was out of earshot, Chad put his hand on my shoulder and spoke into my right ear, “I feel sort of bad for her.  She’s much too good for the likes of you.” Pat. Pat. He patted me like an old friend.

Thinking I misheard his remark, “Huh?” 

“I said, that I think Glinda is wonderful, and she would be better off with me, old sport.” 

Old sport? Yeah, like he had ever read the Great Gatsby.  I just stood there, dumbfounded.

He continued, “I’m going to find a way to take your girl away from you, and you can go back to your pathetic little hornswoggle group.  She’s one sweet piece, and before the night is out, I’m going to make love to your hot, little woman.” 

With that, he took his right hand and placed it on the middle of my back, and then with his left hand patted my stomach, “Ohhh, say.  A little bit of tubby you got going on there, don’t you?” 

I thought the whole thing was a joke, until I looked up in his face, and noticed his very menacing smile.  He meant every word he said.  I took one-step back in amazement.  I was about to say something, when Glinda came back smiling with two drinks in her hands for this Chad character and me.

“So, you boys are talking shop, I’m sure.. but I’m going to introduce Chad to the rest of the guys if that’s okay with you, babe?”  She hands me a cup filled with gin, and then one to Chad.  Never taking my eyes off from the tall worm, I nodded, not even saying a word.  Before I knew it, they walked off into the crowd.

We had to start the next set before I got much of a chance to talk to Glinda.  She handed me another cup of gin, kissed me, and then headed back to her seat where Mr. wonderful awaited.  I could see them sitting there.  For the next grueling fourteen songs, I stared eagle-eyed, to where the new couple sat on top of a picnic table.  They sat close to each other, talking, laughing, and drinking.  They seems like they were as old friends sharing secrets and touching arms, shoulders and legs.  Occasionally, 

Glinda would catch my eye and nod at me with that sweet smile I know so well. 

Honestly, I was so jealous, I could barely contain myself.  Yet, all I did was continue to play my guitar, barely concentrating on my music.  I stood there and stared at the two having a wonderful time without me.  It was almost like being in prison.  Worse yet, being in prison where I got to watch though a peep hole, the indiscretions of the love of my life.  It was torture. 

At the end of the show, thankfully, Chad was nowhere to be found.  At some point, the little turd exited the scene.  Glinda came up to me at the end of the show and gave me a big, long slow kiss. 

I was not impressed.  I pulled away from her, looked at her in her beautiful eyes, and I accusingly asked, “So, where’s your new boyfriend?”

At first, she thought I was kidding.  It was evident I was not.   

Well, needless to say that we did not have a nice swim after the show.  We fought our first real fight.  

And it was ugly.  All the way home, it was an awful representation of humans at their worst.  I dropped her off at her apartment.  She did not kiss me goodnight.  I was almost glad.

It took two days before we talked again on the phone.  

Eventually, we made amends.  But… 

It was only a first fight, yet once that membrane of respect is broken; it’s very had to get back.  I accused her.  She accused me.  From there, the fights and the jealousy just accelerated.  

Towards the end, there was nothing either of us would be afraid to accuse each other of terrible indiscretions.  We fought more than we made love.  Eventually, it felt as if both of us were squeezing the life from each other.

Eventually, she packed up all her belongings and moved back with parents somewhere in Arizona. 

I know you’re thinking, she must have eventually hooked up with Chad the rock star jerk from (maybe) England, just to spite me.  That never happened.  She was never interested him, other than he was from another country, and like her boyfriend, played music in a band.  Her intentions were never anything but pure.

Many years later, I must admit I stalked her once on Facebook (oh, come on.. I know you have too.. don’t be so innocent with me!)  and noticed that man she lived with for a short while did have a resemblance to that Chad person.  She lived with a tall, thin, longhaired guy for a while that looked like that Chad.  However, she moved away (no forwarding address) after that guy abused her. 

What a terrible missed opportunity for both of us.

Now, in this story, it’s obvious the jerk here is this Chad.  But, the truth of the matter is, the biggest jerk was completely, awfully, terribly, most regretfully, yours truly. 

I began to realize, there are jerks everywhere.  Unfortunately, you cannot change that… other than something illegal or immoral (thinking duct tape, shovel, and tarp)..  it’s unavoidable.  What’s more important is how you handle them is your response to the many jerks in life.

I missed a naked swim with one of the most beautiful woman I had ever known.  And eventually, missed her completely, all because I did not believe in her.  And that, my friends.. makes me the biggest jerk, ever.