“You have beautiful
eyes,” he said as he put his hand on the door. “You both do,” he added nodding
towards my friend. “Beautiful. Even you in the back there, cleaning the
mirrors.” In the coldest tone ever I muttered a thank you in hopes that it
would get him out sooner. He lingered. Why do they always?
Some women have a
special energy, an unexplainable aura that attracts the crazies, and it's
usually the women that are truly brilliant females with beauty and brains. The
ultimate catches. And I will confidently (and finally) state that we are: The
three of us women that remained in the quiet Pure Barre studio after yet
another fantastic session.
Lingering in the
small and cozy lobby became second nature for me after almost a year of
attending. It’s like a second home with another amazing family, especially when
I get together with these girls. It’s like talking to my soul sisters. Different
parents, different faiths, different lives but absolutely similar in everything
else. And all it winds down to finding the humor in its simplicities and
complexities. So as another seemingly normal morning came into a close so did
our conversation…that was until Mr. Slim Shady walked through our studio’s door.
“What’s that guy
doing?” Brit asked as she caught a glimpse of him through the glass windows
before he came in. I dared not turn around having been used to the shadiest of
characters in our lovely Seacliff Village. After all, just 24 hours earlier I
was bombarded by a preaching member of some SoCal church congregation, eager to
help me with a “proper placement in one of the churches per the Lord’s
request.” Every other word was “Praise the Lord” and I began to wonder if she
misunderstood me when I said, “Oh yes, I saw the signs [of the church] last
week.” Her eyes widened with excitement. “Praise the Lord! I’m ecstatic!” I
smiled and told her Pure Barre was about to start in two minutes. (Yes, I’m
THAT addicted! #purebarrelife.)
But before I could
even ask Brit what she saw through the window he walked in. The shadiest of
characters, this man stood at 5’8, raggedy black plaid shorts, dark gray
hoodie, ratty old beanie, various facial scabs and a tall almost empty iced vanilla coffee
cup from our neighbor Starbucks. Brit and I exchanged the look of “Oh Crap!” as
he walked in super jumpy and erratic.
“Hey! What is this
place?!?” he called out with great enthusiasm. As if she read my mind, Brit
whipped the most brilliant of white lies praying that this guy would get the
message. “This is a women’s ballet
fitness studio.” We failed. “Oh I love
women and I love ballet. Can I stay?” It was clearly a rhetorical question as
he found his way to a seat beside me on the couch.
After what felt like an eternity later but only totaled 20 minutes he had given us the most detailed backstory of his apparently magnificent life. An aspiring UFC fighter in training, this late 20s/early 30s something encountered quite a run in with the police due to his undeniable strength (having been able to get through fights as the champion in a matter of minutes), and a lovely 365 days within the state prison because he merely “shoved” his ex-wife out of the bathroom door because she wouldn’t allow him to take a shower. But of course that was only because she kneed his son in the back of the head. He also prefers using his feet verses a car—after all gas prices are still sky rocketing—and he generously invited Brit (and our boyfriends) to join him camping in his lovely beach pit somewhere between Laguna & Seal Beach.
Keeping a polite
demeanor is quite difficult for me when I’m uncomfortable, especially around
men so hats off to Brit who kept her cool during this entire unwanted exposé.
But then again, she wasn’t inches away from him, feeling the smoky stench of
his breath on her neck when he explicitly expressed how he is suffering from an awful sexual
frustration. The one he has been unwillingly enduring after four awful
heartbreaks (the last being a year ago, leaving his gentle heart shattered into
thousands of pieces). Apparently ice chomping and fighting have been his release.
The bad news was his cup of ice was three cubes away from empty! At that moment
I needed a whole other release from this character who was far too close to my
body. Kudos to Jay who tucked herself away safely in the back of that studio cleaning the mirrors over and over and over!
Little did we know
that we were also in the presence of a literary genius who only stopped writing
due to the fact that his works were being stolen and making everyone else but
himself rich. “Where are my royalties?” he shouted. I smiled sheepishly
wondering if this would end soon. Leaving those girls behind was the last thing
I intended on doing but I had an appointment to get to.
“Why do all the
pretty girls I meet end up having boyfriends?” he asked when we all alluded to their existence—despite the fact that all we’ve been able to
really attract are the ones who put out every interested signal and disappear or are
most likely related to this lovely character. “It’s a dog eat dog world out
there,” Brit said so nonchalantly shrugging her shoulders. That’s when I knew
we had to do something. My trusty iPhone was leaving an imprint in the palm of
my right hand because of how tightly I held on to it. Calling Brit or the cops
seemed ideal but seeing as how he literally could see what I was dialing I
called Pure Barre instead.
The studio phone rang
and I realized I should have texted Brit a heads up because as she answered
eagerly thinking it was a client her voice came through my phone loud and clear.
We exchanged wide eyed glances and I hung up, leaving her leeway to continue
pretending she was on the phone with a customer. Of course this meant Slim
Shady was now focusing on me. “Is that the iPhone?” Without even turning I
said, “Yes.” He exhaled loudly. “Don’t you hate how they are tracking your
every move? They know everything about you and what you do and say, you know
that?” I pulled out my car keys and stood up. “That’s why I have all
applications and GPS settings off. It’s merely my text and call tool.” He
wasn’t impressed. “That doesn’t matter. They are still following you,” he said
as he stood up closer to me.
If Will Smith is right
and Fear Is A Choice I can tell you it
was my number one choice here. I walked towards Brit, who was milking that whole client on
the phone shpeel, my eyes begging for help yet my mouth trying to withhold the
involuntary laughter that I knew was bound to burst out the moment he
(hopefully) departed.
“Maybe I’ll come back
when there’s a ballet session and watch all you ladies dance,” he said as he
mimicked a plié and leg lift, arms movement included. Again, my sheepish smile.
That’s when he finally made his way to the door, ice cup completely empty, and
reiterated his fascination in our beauty.
Only after we ensured
our safety and announced the need to lock that damn door did Brit get off the
fake phone call and I let out the long awaited burst of laughter. “Holy crap!”
was all we could say. From the back Jay called out, “Oh my god!” and that only
sent me into a deeper laughter realizing she had found refuge in a bottle of
Windex and paper towels. But she was not forgotten. No, Slim Shady did
acknowledge her beauty and cleaning efforts as he walked out of our studio.
“Where do these
people find me?” Brit asked. I shook my head and smiled. “Girl, it must be the
vibe our presence together is sending because I attract his type as well.” I
resisted the temptation to shout, “Praise the Lord” because no one would have
understood the reference. But it’s true; I must admit it was something I would
praise the Lord for. Only women like us encounter these experiences because
women like us can fathom the humor and brilliance out of these adventures.
Conjure up comedy, blog pieces and lessons to enjoy. After all, that’s why I
started Lady Narrator. It’s my realization that I will forever make sure to
find beauty, comedy and adventure in even the littlest of things I experience
in my life. And although I titled this R.I.P. Normal Monday Morning, I will
confess, normal is so underrated in my life. Instead I will go on being myself,
recognizing the confidence that I have to dig deep for every day, and analyze
every bit of it like I love to.
So after he left I
couldn’t help but wonder aloud, “What are these men thinking when they
graciously approach us? Are their expectations really high enough to have hoped
one of us would take the place of his ice cup? Believe his ridiculous stories? I
mean what?” But just like Brit said, Slim Shady is one of many. He’s not the
first ex-con I’ve been approached by. I’ve even been lucky enough to get a man
IN prison pursue me via email and phone. How the hell he got my information is
beyond me!
I guess the morals of
Lady Narrator’s story today are: (1) next time lock the door once class is
over, (2) at least I’ve met my soul mates who can enjoy these experiences
maturely and intelligently and (3) Praise the Lord! We are safe and sound…except
of course for the fact that we all have iPhones and are currently being stalked
by Apple Inc. and whoever else they work with on tracking their customers.
