Or, How To Ruin A Perfectly Good Date
Have you ever been frozen out by a woman?
Guys, you know what I mean. You say or do the wrong thing, and suddenly POW! She won't talk to you. She won't even look at you. She just sits there, saying nothing, radiating massive, pummeling, icy waves of anger and frustration. There's nothing you can do about it, except bundle up against the cold and wait for the chill to pass. At times like this, you find yourself wishing for an argument, a shouting match, anything to warm things up a bit. You're so desperate for heat that you're actually grateful when she starts yelling at you.
Girls, you probably know what I mean, too. If you don't, then re-read the previous paragraph. That and blowjobs are all you need to know about manipulating the male psyche.
My wife, whom I love dearly and prize above all other things on this earth, is an expert at this technique. Because of our work schedules, and because we carpool whenever we can, we get most of our quality time in the car together, during our commute. It works out pretty well, actually, but that's another story. But because of this, I sometimes have to spend a commute in painful, chilly silence. You think being frozen out is bad, try being frozen out for half an hour while trapped in a car trapped in stop-and-go traffic at the end of a long workday when you're already burnt out (which is probably why you said something stupid and pissed off your wife in the first place). Anyway, this story is about being frozen out in a car, but it doesn't involve my wife.
This story takes place several years ago. When I was both younger and stupider than I am today. At that time, I was dating a girl named Lucy. She was a very sweet girl, and we got along great, most of the time. We were both young and eager and foolish, and we had a good time together. I didn't always see eye to eye with her parents, but at least her dad never went for his gun when he saw me coming to call.
One evening I borrowed my dad's car, a big mid-70s sedan. I picked Lucy up from her parent's house, and we went out on a date of some kind. I forget the exact details of the date; maybe it was a sit-down at the local coffee shop, maybe it was dinner and a movie. That's not important. What is important is that the date ended up at Vista Point.
You all know what Vista Point is, right? Every suburban community has one: A turnout on the road that runs up into the hills above town. All the kids drive up there to make out, and all the cops drive up there to bust those punk kids.
So there I was, in the car, with my girl, at Vista Point, making my move from "date" to "make-out session". And I blow it. Mind you, this isn't our first make-out session. We'd been dating for a year and a half. We hadn't gone all the way, but we'd gotten hot and heavy on a regular basis. This wasn't some kind of newbie mistake I made. By this point, with this girl, I knew what I was doing... most of the time. This time, I was a complete idiot instead. I forget what I said, but it was incredibly stupid, whatever it was. I deserved the freeze-out I got.
And boy was it cold! I think that was the first freeze-out I ever experienced, and it's always stood out in my mind as the worst. It was incredibly painful. When your deepest desire is to be intimate with someone, and that person suddenly terminates all human interaction with you, it's not a plesant feelilng.
I started to sweat. My hands began shaking. My mouth went dry, and my throat started to spasm like it was trying to swallow anyway. I got mildly sick to my stomach. It's amazing what an angry woman can accomplish, by doing nothing. She just sat there, not saying a word, but to me it was as if she'd jammed her fist into my gut.
I tried to apologize. I tried to offer solutions. I tried to explain. Nothing worked, of course. The ice kept building up between us, and that fisty-gut feeling just kept getting worse. In the end, I had no choice. I turned the car back on, pulled out of the turn-out area, and began the drive back home. It was during this drive that I saw the Devil.
The highway leading down from the hills to the city passed through a small town at the base of the hills. There was a Stop sign, where the highway entered the town. I pulled up to the Stop sign, stopped, and checked my rear-view mirror just as I had been taught in Driver's Ed. In my rear-view mirror, I saw the Devil.
I'm not being metaphorical here. I didn't look in the mirror, see my own face, and realize that I was a devil for mistreating this nice young lady. I'm being literal: the Devil himself was on the road behind me.
So there I was, in my dad's old car, with the Ice Queen riding shotgun. I was overwhelmed by feelings of shame and guilt. My hands were shaking. My palms were sweating against the steering wheel. The fist of dread was buried in my gut. My lips were turning numb with anxiety. It's pitch dark outside, in the night at the edge of the hills. And there, at the edge of the darkness, not ten feet behind the car, is the Devil.
The Devil was shaped like a man, only taller. He was lit from below with a reddish light, as if he'd just arrived from the Pits below, and the hole was still open beneath his feet. As I watched in horror, the Devil floated forward, bathed in light from the Fires of Hell, and came to a stop right at the rear bumper.
What with the freeze-out and all, I already felt like I was in Hell. At that moment, I understood that Hell was a real place, and that the Devil had come to take me there. At that moment, I was almost grateful for the promise of warmth.
Then the moment passed. I pulled through the intersection, dropped Lucy off at her home, and then went home myself, to sleep the sleep of the damned.
The two of us dated for another year and a half, before figuring out that we weren't really perfect for each other. The breakup was drawn-out and messy. She went away to college, and ended up marrying an Anglican priest of all things. I went in a different direction, and ended up marrying only the best woman in the whole world. I had many more adventures along the way. I expect to have many more before my adventuring days are over.
But what happened to the Devil that night, after he came up to me on the road?