Hexed
↑ that's a permalink! visit the full archive
A psychic once told me that I was cursed to forever be "unlucky in love".
Okay, what the hell does that mean? And is that really the kind of thing that you want to tell a person anyway? Someone who is paying you $40 no less? Cursed? Forever?! Needless to say, this fucked my shit up pretty badly.
I was 18 years old, and I had gone to New Orleans for Mardi gras with a group of friends. After some drinking and a little flashing (I'm still scoping out those 'Girls Gone Wild' tapes just to be sure there's no blackmail material hanging around somewhere) we entered a funky boutique to see if we could use the restroom. We were told that only paying customers were allowed to use the facilities, and their 'services' apparently involved psychic readings. We were on vacation, and all 6 of us had to pee, so we decided what the hell and I slapped down my money first. The psychic was good, and he talked to me for nearly an hour. He said many valid things, and then he hit me with the love thing. I have to admit that that tidbit of information was the only thing that I walked away with when I left. The thought haunted me for a very long time, until I finally decided that if I didn't get it out of my head, I would create a self-fulfilled prophecy. After much deliberation, and many needy nights of seeking validation, I let it go. That being said, let me introduce myself in the present, with one divorce and many failed attempts at love under my belt. Again, allow me to reiterate; what the hell?
Eight years of this, and still I walked alone, while hordes of troglodytes seemingly turned down dates left and right. Nonetheless, I decided that I was too young to shack up with 50 cats and a subscription to Reader's Digest. In desperation, I finally thought that maybe the whole "curse" thing would make for a good pick up line.
"Hi, I'm Claudia...I'm not dating anyone right now because I'm hexed..."
Hey, you've got to admit that it's better than "what's your sign" or some other numb cliche. I was working in a grocery store at the time and I decided that I would use my newfound shtick on the new produce guy, Kevin, who was hotter than all get out. One day, while I was in front of the store trying to use mass amounts of nicotine to forget what a shitty job I had, he came out and started up a conversation with me. One cigarette turned into many, and we eventually got onto the subject of relationships. I told him that I was cursed. To my surprise, he seemed intrigued. Suddenly I was no longer a pathetic twenty-something who couldn't hold onto a man to save her life. I was a challenge, and he asked me for my phone number.
A couple of days went by, and Kevin finally called me. I nearly crapped my pants when I saw his name on my caller ID. I took a deep breath and pulled out my best 'sultry' voice as I casually answered the phone. I acted pleasantly surprised to be hearing from him -- very breezy. He wanted to know if I was available on Friday for coffee and conversation. I gladly said yes, and that being established, we began a long, drawn out conversation on life and human behavior (smart, funny, cute as hell, how could this get any better?) I was on cloud nine. I started feeling better about my situation and thinking that the psychic was full of shit. This was obviously working out for me. We were going back and forth on the subject of human emotion, and suddenly he said, "You know how you hear about people who make lists of things that they want to do while they are still alive?" So introspective! "Well, I was thinking about it the other day, and you know what I want to do before I go?" "What's that?" I asked, quite giddy and flirtatiously interested in every word that he had to say.
"Kill somebody." he replied, as matter-of-factly as if he had just been talking about planning a trip to Colorado.
"Excuse me?" was all I could muster. Had I heard him correctly?
Sadly, I had. Kevin wanted to kill someone in his lifetime. He assured me that it would be someone who "truly deserved it," which I suppose was his way of justifying it, but the thought was still quite relative and arbitrary. I tried to make a joke out of it, but this was apparently no laughing matter. This lovely, lovely, fucking beautiful man wanted to end the life of a warm blooded human. Kevin wanted to commit homicide. I calmly -- didn't want to upset him -- interrupted his explanation of "how it would go down" and told him that I had an early appointment the next day and that I had to go. I called him back 10 minutes later with a big fat lie regarding some sick relative that would hinder me from meeting him on Friday.
"Maybe some other time," I told him. He agreed happily and I changed my phone number and quit my job at the grocery store the next morning. As much as I wanted to look past it and get smooched by this physically perfect male specimen, I could not ethically allow myself to date a homicidal maniac, and that was that.
Over the next few months, my "hexed" line managed to score me the attention of a wide array of men. In addition to the hottie with murderous intentions, I briefly dated Chris, a highly intelligent young man whose entire family was in the mob -- oh wait, did I say mob? I retract that statement. I mean they were in the "import/export business." Then came Charles, who was Southern and had more money than a Rockafeller. My being poor, Latin, uneducated and tattooed didn't go over very well in that situation. Apparently, I was not Cotillion material. It was all quite surreal. I mean, for the love of God, the boy didn't know what Ramen soups are. He also didn't think that discrimination still exists in our modern world. Of course not. He was rich, educated, Caucasian and male. It was doomed from the start.
My final attempt was with a guy named Joe who was a practicing Buddhist, a vegan, and an artist. He seemed like my safest bet. After my other encounters, I gladly hung out with him until he began telling me about his annual trips to Jupiter. No dear reader, not Jupiter, Florida. He meant the planet. I found out that this was Joe's homeland...and I thought that my being born in DC was an interesting tidbit, silly me.
Heinously discouraged, I came upon the conclusion that being alone is not a bad thing. Believe it or not, I have found that it is better to be dateless than to go around making out with someone who you can't bring yourself to respect. Whether or not I am cursed, I have yet to figure out, but I am done experimenting in the meantime. I have learned quite a bit about myself, the most important being that I don't need a date to validate my worth. I seem to be my own best bet right now, and perhaps I like it that way.
"Hi, I'm Claudia...I like myself."
Yeah, that sounds about right after all.
Claudia Pierce will find someone. Probably not here, though.