Episode 14 - The trouble with men and women today

Ok, who to start with? I have a need to rant and rave.

First I have Rita again on my shit list after finally forgiving her and 6 months of not speaking.  She's a nice gal, means well I guess, but I think she is self medicating (to excess) with alcohol; a heavy daily dousing, far more than needed to get over daily wear and tear. How do I know?

I read a book I found in the trash room, which I share with two neighbors.  It was called, Personality Disorders.  I easily deduced who put it in the trash (eliminating the mostly absentee retired ophthalmologist) and I know her disorder; she's a bitch. Ok, that not really true.  My neighbors are actually very nice. She's just a little bit odd. When we met she told me that she parked her car around the corner to save money while waiting to find out if her offer to buy the other neighbor's apartment would be accepted (for those of you who don't know, buying a neighboring apartment comes at a premium).  Over several months, I have become fairly good friends with her.  Only thing troubling is I noticed we have a lot in common.  

I mention the book to my sister, a nurse. "I read this book and I think I have OCD or BPD else I'm a paranoid schizophrenic - don't tell anyone."  She's neither amused nor going to indulge me as we walk on.  In the middle of telling me that I am indeed special but not impaired, we happen to bump into the shrink I used during my divorce. "There's nothing wrong with you;" that's two professional opinions.  But I did learn, by reading that book, people who are mentally challenged and not in professional treatment typically find their way to drugs or alcohol; ie they self medicate.  I guess most people know that, I did not.  It shed a lot of light about Rita.

Anyway, Rita has met a bunch of men I have dated over the years. None are "her type" which I remind her is obvious since she and I have different objectives and tastes.

Things get out of hand with Rita usually.  She's been dumped again by her on-again-off-again MARRIED boyfriend (on Valentine's day) and my other girlfriend needs a place to crash since she also had a fight with her live-in boyfriend.  Great, two women come over while I am going out with Wolf and my daughter.  At dinner my cell is ringing off the hook, "Where's your bottle opener?  Can we eat the chicken? Can you bring back some rice to go with the chicken?"  None of us speak during dinner, too many interruptions. Dinner cut short, I come home to find only Rita has eaten (the other girlfriend is too heart broken) and three empty bottles of my wine.  If that was not enough, Rita actually complained that I brought back white rice not brown.  I am forced to explain we did not dine at a Chinese restaurant. Then she noticed that Wolf is holding a bag which had the desert we didn't eat.  Five minutes later it's gone and then Rita, now well fed, decides to come onto Wolf.  "I would go for a ride on your boat," she tells him in front of me.  You think maybe she should wait until I invite her?   

Six months later I am on the street with Wolf and run into Rita. "How's the boat?" Great opener on her part.

It’s not yet summer but we are boatless, shipwrecked for the summer, ‘cause Wolf's cousin crashed into some rocks the Saturday before.  I should have garnered, from that incident alone, that I was the only sane member on the boat.  I know absolutely nothing about boats, but I do know that if I had a nose job still in bandages, like one of the guests, the last place I'd be is on a boat; 

Wolf took the helm initially until his cousin took over. In less than one minute, we hit some rocks.  The impact was so sharp I was ejected 3 feet in the air. So was Wolf who was sitting next to me.  He jumped to reclaim his ship.  I did a quick assesment of the passengers.  Only his cousin was bleeding, having lost two front teeth, the rest confused and dissoriented.  Then I while I dialed 911 on my cell (you think I knew the number for the coast guard?).  As I am speaking on the phone, I looked around to assess the damage.

Water began rising starting at my ankles. Quickly, acting probably on instinct or perhaps elevated adrenaline, I threw the one previously opened bottle of Asti Spumante (and all the plastic cups) overboard while holding my cell phone under my chin. No need to complicate matters; five percent alcohol content did not contribute to this accident when six people shared one bottle over an hour earlier. I deny the inquiry.

Wolf and I look around to figure out where we are; the coast guard would like to know.  We see the shore is about fifty feet ahead. With nothing more to go on I begin to describe the waterfront Manses.  “One is a Georgian Revival, another is a modern eclectic mess but with a flag pole and flag I don’t recognize but it's orange and teal.” I don’t think my descriptions are helping any. Then I notice a Manse with a peer.  I beg Wolf to steer towards the privately owned haven.  It takes a great effort, I was later told. since there was only one working engine and rocks everywhere, like a pool of sharks, but he somehow manages to get us there. I am grateful since not being forced to abandon ship means I don't have to get my hair wet, or deal with the rocks.   

I am told not to worry the boat can't sink.  Ok, but now the water's up to my knees. Still on auto pilot, I am the one (cell phone still in hand having asked the coast guard to hold on) who jumps out of the boat to grab a line and pull the boat with all the passengers into the peer and tie it up.   Did I mention there was one other able bodied man aboard who brought the nose job date?  He's the one who made the statement the boat could not sink.  Anyway I start to work on getting the home owners to come outside after first turning away at the site of us.

I don't know, but does it seem more likely that a person needs help when they are jumping and waving their arms overhead shouting, "we need help" or would you assume that people with a large boat decided to come over perhaps in need of a Grey Poupon?

It takes a few minutes, but finally a young boy comes to the peer.  I ask the address to give to the coast guard. “And we need an ambulance,” I demand this to best protect Wolf knowing insurance claims will likely be filed by the various parties aboard.   

Sit right back to hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip……If not for the (something) of the fearless crew, the Minnow would be lost.”  Apparently I was Gilligan, actually I think I was nearly all the cast rolled into one. “How did I know what to do?” I am still stunned with the inquiries. Did I have any other choice?

Wolf’s boat never had a name.  Now we call it, Sunken Treasure.  Not to poke too much fun, but I have not come up with a reason the boat never had a name other than he could not make up his mind. .  

Maybe I should have let Rita go out on the boat with Wolf after all.