Next Time Make Sure She's Single

Prologue

That night I could have easily been maimed for life, or worse. In seeing a woman who was unknowingly married, I infuriated her husband to where him and his brother wanted to kill me. I was lucky to only come away with only a fat lip. She certainly wasn’t single - what she seemed.

Genre – True
Target audience – Mature
Rated R – Extreme Explicit Language

*Next Time Make Sure She’s Single

I befriended a woman once while working as a maintenance technician at an apartment complex in the late 70’s. We enjoyed each other’s company and got to know each other only after a handful of visits at her apartment. After my third visit I began to sense all was not right with her because she only wanted to see me at nighttime. I quickly began to feel she was hiding something from me.

One evening while at her place, we were sitting on the couch and chatting when she began showing me pictures of her daughter. Her daughter was about three years old and looked every bit of her mother. All of a sudden she stopped talking and began looking at me for several seconds and not saying a word. When she finally spoke it was news that made me back-peddle.

She softly said, “Bob, I have to inform you that I’m married.”

Immediately I thought to myself why Lord? Why me? Why do I attract these types of women? For a couple of previous years I’ve had a streak of meeting married women who wanted to get to know me, and with whom I’ve mostly turned away from. I’ve tried to not pursue those avenues of inopportune opportunities.

I apologetically said in response, “I’m sorry, Linda, but I am not looking for that kind of relationship. I better leave.” I got up from the couch and left to go home with plans of never seeing her again.

I wasn’t at home for more than three minutes when I received a knock at my front door. I’ve always been the trusting sort so I opened the door without asking who it was. That was a gigantic mistake.

In a flash of a moment the door darted wildly toward me like someone had just kicked it in, nearly hitting me in the head. As I was still leaning backward just after avoiding it, someone rushed in and hit me hard in the face with a fist that felt like a lead pipe. The crushing blow sent me reeling into a backward somersault over a dining room chair. I continued stumbling backward until I abruptly stopped when I banged my head on a bookcase, causing it and all it’s contents to tumble down on top of me. Through my now fuzzy brain I thought that was one hell of a punch!

After a few seconds of shaking my head to clear the cobwebs within it, I looked up at the door and saw two men who were screaming obscenities at me. I was at an immediate loss as to why these two strangers were in my apartment, but I sure as hell didn’t appreciate what had just happened to me. Their attack caught me off guard. So, within a few more seconds of getting most of my vision back I thought what the fuck is this! Instantly began preparing my psyche for a fistfight.

Within a few quick more moments, I began to put two and two together when I heard one of them begin screaming, “I knew my wife was screwing someone, but I had no idea who it was until I saw you leave our apartment, you son-of-a-bitch!”

Suddenly one of the guys lunged at me, yelling, “I’m going to kick your ass real good, you mother-fucker!” But a quick outstretched hand from the other guy grabbed that guy’s coat to stop him. Thank goodness because this guy was built like a young Arnold Schwarzenegger. He had arms bigger then my waist! However, he kept trying to break himself free. The goon wanted another shot at me.

As I slowly got to my feet, I could hear both guys screaming at the top of their lungs on how they were going to kill me. They were swearing and calling me all kind of names.

“I just knew it! I knew it! You’re close to being dead, you piece of shit!” one guy kept shouting. The Arnold character continued with his aggressive behavior and continued to try and free himself from the other guys grasp, all the time swearing up and down that he was going to rip my head off!

The reality of the situation had me very near getting killed, it certainly seemed that way at the moment. I knew I had to do some fast-talking so I attempted to explain the situation to them. I had very little hope of them listening to anything else but what they had already decided.

With the blood running from my nose, into my mouth and sporting a fat lip already, I tried to explain to them that I was unaware that this young lady was married until just a short while ago.

I was yelling at the top of my lungs and gesturing with my arms in defense of my behavior, “Hey, just a damn minute! I didn’t know she was married and that’s the truth. I’ve only seen her three times. And that’s the truth, damn it!” I continued with my defense as I tried to be understood. My new fat lip was preventing me from having clarity when pronouncing some of my words, but I know they were still getting my explanation.

A lot of face-to-face screaming and finger pointing continued for a few minutes more. I don’t think I would’ve have had much of a prayer if they both decided to come at me right then.

Visions of me getting the shit kicked out of me kept swirling through my head. So I knew I had to begin thinking if they were to suddenly rush me that I needed to kick them where it would hurt the most. I kept repeating to myself several times that I needed to kick them in the nuts, kick them in the nuts! With the two of them wanting to kill me, I wasn’t about to make it easy for them to do so. We were making so much noise that I’m surprised the neighbors didn’t call the police.

Finally, after trying my hardest to convince these guys that what I was saying was the truth, I could tell by one guy’s expression that he began to have doubt in what he believed before. The swelling in the veins in his neck began to subside as he began to quiet down some. I found out later that this was Linda’s husband. The Arnold look-alike was his brother.

When the situation finally quieted down to a respectable roar, the husband told his bother that he was no longer needed and was told to leave. But the guy didn’t want to go. He kept calling me a liar and continued to act like he still wanted to smash my face in. But, after much persuasion by the husband the goon finally left and slammed the door behind him, knocking my favorite picture of Marilyn Monroe off the wall.

Immediately I thought, you prick! It was turning into an evening of poor chosen adjectives.

I was very relieved to see that goof leave. Now I figured with the odds even, I’d at least have a chance to better defend myself if the husband ever decided to change his mind and go a round or two.

The intruder sat down in one of the remaining standing chairs at the dining table. I just glared at him as I cautiously took a seat at the opposite side of the table.

Although my adrenalin was racing a thousand miles per hour, it felt like it was time to calm myself down. It seemed this guy was preparing himself to listen more intently than he had previously before.

After just staring at me for close to a minute he demanded, “I want to hear your side of the story.”

So, I began to tell him exactly the kind of relationship Linda and I were having and the fact that nothing was going on between us. I could tell this guy wanted to start believing me, but something held him back from doing so. However, I continued explaining…

As I spoke, I decided in the back of my mind that this crap had gone on long enough. It was time to try and turn the tables. I developed a plan to do that and to act upon it as soon as I could.

Eventually he asked me a question that I knew was coming.

“Did you ever have sex with her?” he demanded to know.

I took a deep slow inhale and said with an assured tone in my voice, “Absolutely not.” It seemed to believe me.

No sooner had he began to realize the truth of the situation then he began to talk like there was no tomorrow. He started informing me of all the troubles his wife and him were having. Shit, I began to feel like I was this guy’s psychiatrist, for Christ sake! Then I began to notice tears coming down his face.

I thought, oh great, this is all I need. Just moments ago he wanted to kill me and now I’ve become this psychological pincushion. I was getting more perturbed by the second with this guy’s very presence inside my apartment.

Out of nowhere, he surprisingly asked, “Do you have a towel that I could wrap some ice in so you can hold it against your lip to help the swelling go down?” The guy was doing a complete turnaround. “Hey look, man, I’m really sorry.” He seemed sincere with his apology. I was unfazed, however. I was getting tired of even looking at him.

After holding the towel of ice to my lip and swollen face for a couple of minutes, I decide it was time to change the direction of the mood he was in. So I abruptly jumped out of my chair (chair went flying backwards) and threw the towel of ice at him as hard as I could (it put a dent in the wall just behind him) with it almost hitting him in his face! He dodged the towel of ice and gave me a surprised glare. My actions were out of nowhere and it totally caught him off guard.

I quickly took a deep breath and excruciatingly demanded, “Get the fuck out of my apartment and don’t ever come back. This fucking game is over!” I took a couple of steps toward him to back up what I was saying. “Go on, I said get the hell out of here!” I yelled.

He slowly got up to leave, but not before reaching into his wallet and throwing two twenty dollar bills on the table. It looked like to me that he might have been thinking to rush me, but seemed unsure about it. And after a few moments of him glaring at me, he turned away and left. I never saw him again. The time was 3:30 a.m.

I vowed that night to more selective with the women I dated in the future; my very livelihood depended on it.

The next day about noon I did pick up that forty dollars and placed it in my wallet. As I did so I quietly mumbled, “Thank you, you prick!”