written by: Eddie D. Moore
I had love once, but women are all the same, and their love never lasts long. After the fires of passion begin to settle, they all feel like something is missing. And like a drug addict, they go searching for someone to rekindle those emotional highs. They have no consideration for who they hurt in the process. Only losing the one they love while the emotions are strong will break the cycle, and I consider that my personal mission in life.
Once a woman knows what it’s like to lose someone they love, they see the world differently and understand that it’s not all about them. Their next relationship starts with a slow burn instead of a raging fire because they want to protect themselves, and that creates a relationship with a foundation that will last a lifetime. If only someone else would have taught my ex-wife that lesson before we met.
Even ten years later, I still take a vacation on what would’ve been my anniversary every year, and since I can’t have my happily-ever-after, I do my part to make sure someone else will, someday.
I watched a newlywed couple sitting at the bar for three days and carefully listened to their conversations. I wanted to help this woman, but I need to make sure that she truly was in love with her husband. If she only married him for some pending inheritance or a weekly paycheck, she’d learn nothing from his sudden death. I had to be sure I was right before I took the next step.
After a quick eye roll, I took a shot of tequila to punish myself for thinking about my ex and smiled when I noticed how the young bride caressed the back of her husband’s arm. The sparkle in her eye told me all I needed to know. This woman was in love and ready to grow as a person with the proper incentive.
When the house band stopped for a break, the husband of the couple I was watching went to the restroom, and I waited a few seconds before following. There was no one else in the men’s room, so I washed my hands and studied myself in the mirror until I heard the toilet flush. When the stall door began to open, I slid my knife out of my jacket pocket and made my move.
I took a little pride in the fact that in ten years I hadn’t missed the heart on my first try. Oh, I’d scraped a rib or two, but my blade always hit home. As long as I managed to push this guy back into the stall, no one would find his body until I was long gone. It left me stunned and surprised when my knife hit something solid. A moment later, a large fist smashed my nose, and the back of my head smacked the ceramic floor. Before I knew what was going on, the restroom door slammed open and four large men wearing vests with ‘FBI’ on the back rushed the room.
A week later, I found myself here in Dr. Anderson’s office for a mental evaluation. I find it a little ironic that I live in a world that would label me as crazy when half the population is female. I blinked and shook my head when I realized that the doctor had asked me a question, but before I could ask him to repeat it, someone knocked gently at the door.
Dr. Anderson ran his fingers through what little hair he had and said, “Excuse me, this won’t take but a moment,” before walking across the room.
When he cracked open the door, a blond at least fifteen years younger than the doctor whispered, “Our reservations are at five o’clock. Do I need to reschedule?”
“No, this will be my last patient for the day. I promise.”
The young woman smiled, and I recognized the sparkle in her eyes. She was in love with this man there were no doubts about it. I heard a wet smack of lips before the door closed, and Dr. Anderson returned to the chair.
“So, Donald, I’ve been asked by the state to evaluate your mental status. They never give me the details of a case, so you have a blank slate with me. What would you like to tell me about yourself?”
I cleared my throat and couldn’t resist asking, “How long has your secretary been in love with you?”
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