Seven signs of a psycho.
“I hate you” she said with a gun in her left hand and a glass of whiskey leaving her right hand flying at my forehead. The glass shatters above my left eye. The blood blinds me but I can clearly hear what she is saying.
“Men like you need to die. You are a piece of shit.” She says and then pistol whips me. I am knocked unconscious.
Only two weeks earlier we met and after a week she professed her love for me. I should have known something was wrong. I should have been more aware of the signs of a psycho. There are seven signs of a psycho.
I met her on a Wednesday, which is the first sign. If she wants a first date on a day other than Friday or Saturday, she might be psychotic. The traditional weekend is considered date night for a reason violating these traditions is a sign that one is a psycho. I brought her a single red rose. I was very comfortable seated in one of my regular haunts. It is a coffee shop in Fullerton, California.
We drank coffee and smoked the occasional cigarette until the sun went down. Then we migrated to an Italian restaurant.
“Where did you go to high school?” She asked as she sipped a whiskey sour. She wanted to know so much about my past and that is a sign of a psycho so I lied.
“La Mirada high school, I graduated in 1999.” Lying is not one of the signs of a psycho because you are never sure if one is lying or not so I always assume that others are lying because of the simple fact that I am lying. If you think about it makes sense.
I ordered a salad so she wouldn’t think I was a fatty... She ate some pasta primavera while sipping on more whiskey. She drank very slowly. The ice in the drink had almost melted away. She began munching on the slivers of ice between bites of pasta.
Chewing ice is a sign one is a psycho...
So a date on Wednesday and chewing ice are the first two signs one is a psycho. As the night went on we left the Italian restaurant and headed to a quiet, dimly lit bar to get to know each other better. I insisted because the more quiet the easier to talk and figure out how psycho this woman really was.
Although I slyly hinted at sex, she decided we should part ways.
“So you want to go back to my place and fuck?” Sly.
“I think I will leave now.” She didn’t finish her whiskey. She must have been sauced to pass up the invitation. “This has been fun but. . .” She walked out without finishing what she was saying; incidentally this is a sign of a psycho.
I paid the check and tried to follow her outside to catch her to say something more to her. She drove off leaving gravel in my teeth. No date has ever gone so well.
She called me the next day...
“Hey, I thought we would wait a couple of days before calling you.” She said.
“Oh I decided to make...” She cut me off.
“I really don’t think I want to talk to you while I am at work.
Please don’t call me...”
“You’ll call me.” I interrupted.
She hung up the phone.
On our glorious date she had mentioned that she teaches yoga at the Y. I signed up for one of her classes.
I smoke exactly seven cigarettes in the twenty minutes before the class started. I threw them under the no smoking sign in the puddle of spit I made while smoking. I wanted to make a good impression this time so I brought cologne in my gym bag. I wanted to tell her all the wonderful things about her from the last date, so I made them up.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. She was wearing a black outfit with a blue scarf and grey hoodie. The blue of the scarf brought out the green in her eyes.
“I thought stretching would be good.”
“You smell like cheap cigarettes.” She leaned forward to hit me but turned and went inside. “I’m calling the police you should leave, asshole.”
“You haven’t cause to call the police and I am just a student and acquaintance.”
“You are disturbing the peace.”
“I’ve done no such thing...” I turn and walk back to my car. She stands at the entrance of the Y. Another sign one is a psycho is that one gives what one could sell... she volunteers at the Y; teaching the classes for free. At dinner she said that they do give her money but she donates the money to the poor at a church around the corner.
I am sitting in my apartment reading the emails she had sent me. They captured my heart. They gave me a hard-on. So few people can be descriptive enough in writing to arouse desire, she is one of these people. I lie in bed dreaming of the other night at coffee and the Italian restaurant. I fall asleep.
The next day at work I decide to call her and ask her out for drinks.
“I’m changing my phone number faggot!” she yells through the phone. Luckily I know where she goes for drinks with her friends after work. She works for a temp agency in Brea, California. Up the street is a billiard club where some of the men from her office go. Some of the women from the agency follow; she is one of these. The fifth sign one is a psycho is the tendency to travel with the heard. Fitting in with the in crowd is always a sure sign one is psychotic.
I leave the office early to change out of my work uniform and into
something far more suitable for playing pool. I head over to Diamonds billiards on Birch in Brea around seven that evening.
She is sipping whiskey at one of the pool tables with on the more homely men in her office. She puts down her glass and picks up her cue. He is making some feeble move teaching her how to set the cue ball up for the next shot by using masse.
“Masse shots are for pussies.” I comment as I walk to the table and nudge her.
“Get out of here. You need to leave me alone, you fucking freak.” She looks beautiful when she is angry. To tell you the truth she looks beautiful in any situation.
I ignore her and walk to the bar and order a beer.
“Buddy I don’t need any problems. You should go.” The bartender says. I flash him my badge.
“When you have a problem, who do you turn to, buddy?” He brings my beer.
One of the signs that one is a psycho is women not liking police officers. Ninety percent of the attraction to becoming a cop is the pussy. Women love men in uniform. Or so I thought until I met this one...
She is at the table still pretending to suck at this game. Women do this so that a man will stand behind them and help them with their form. I will put a stop to this.
“Hey asshole! Put the cue ball back on the table.” Her coworker says to me as he threatens me with the cue. I pull out my gun.
“Drop the weapon, sir.” I point my .38 at his nose and move forward and he drops the cue on the ground before him. The fucking cunt steps between us.
“I’ll go with you... just leave him alone.” She says. We walk out of the billiard club to my parked car. I open the door for her. Regardless of anything I am a gentleman first.
At this point in any relationship I stop caring about the signs of a psycho. But the last sign of a psycho will be evident at any moment.
She is silent on the way back to my place.
“I’ve been thinking about doing this for the last two weeks.” She says as we get out of my car. Score. . .she was just playing hard to get. I think I am falling love.
“Hurry... I’m so hot.” She pulls me into the house and I slam the door. I take off my jacket and holster. And we head into the bedroom.
“Just a second, I need to pee first.” She gets up and goes into the hallway. I assume she goes into the bathroom. I take off my shirt. As I lay on the bed I hear some talking. She comes into the room with my gun in her left and her phone in the right.
“Okay you will be here in five minutes... Thank you.” She hangs up. “That gives me time to tie you up and pour myself a drink.” She says as she motions for me to get up and got out into the hallway. The gun she has isn’t the only gun in the house but I don’t want to get any further in to shit. She handcuffs me to a dining room chair and this is where the story ends... or is it where it began?