Liz and the Man-God: A Cautionary Tale

Long long ago, in a forgotten time (Spring 2002) and in an irrelevant place (Greensboro, NC) there lived a beautiful, enigmatic man-god who we’ll refer to as B. B was an incredible specimen of a man, standing at 6 feet tall with bold, rippling muscles that gently pressed against the fabric of his clothing and a smile that could slice diamonds. Having been raised in both London and Chicago, his dialect displayed a humble worldliness unseen in most American youth of that generation, but he kept this unique attribute as a quiet character effect, never boasting about himself or his colorful, varied life. A gifted student of theatre, he wasn’t afraid to exhibit a sensitive artistic side as he both acted and wrote in dazzling performances of subtle genius. This, of course, only added to his appeal and, thus, had women of all ages mesmerized by his intoxicating persona. (Including a not-so-subtle Voice for the Actor professor who shamelessly flung herself at him for an entire semester… to no avail.) ----------------------------------------------- Liz was one of these such women. After drenching her undergarments at the man-god’s arrival to an afternoon acting class, she helplessly surrendered herself to the gentle force of his presence. Each week she would spend a little extra time readying herself to be in his company, taking hours to improve her appearance while she gushed about him to her amused roommate (Hot Liz). At every class she would find herself more hypnotized by his movements, his coy laughter, his blatant ignorance as to the acute power he held over the fawning women (and men, being that he was attending a liberal arts university) that flocked to him. ----------------------------------------------------------------- On more than one occasion, Liz caught herself making a complete fool of herself in the wake of the man-god’s magnificence. When he noticed her dreamily (and involuntarily) staring at him, she would offer stammered excuses such as “Ilikeyourhat…” or “Sorry, I’m still grieving about the recent death of Layne Staley” before burying herself into her rucksack to hide her crimson face. Despite such mortifying moments of hopeless pining, she would always be rewarded with one of his earth-moving smiles and she liked to fantasize that her involuntary affection was somehow appreciated by someone of his godlike caliber. ------------------------------------------------------------------ On the last day of class, the other students were talking excitedly about some silly summer film that was coming out in theatres that day (SpiderMan). Someone suggested that they all go together that evening to catch the film and, to Liz’s amazement, the man-god showed interest in joining them. As the ad hoc event coordinator, Liz bravely scribbled her dorm room’s number on his palm, trying not to lose consciousness at the soft strength of his perfect hands that seemed resonate to her very core. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Somehow, the details for this event fell through with the other members of the class and Liz found herself sitting by the phone, waiting, a bit disappointed, to tell the man-god that the plans were off. Roommate Hot Liz consoled Liz on her apparent loss and offered to fetch her something frozen and chocolate to soothe her pain. As Hot Liz was retrieving these vital reinforcements, the man-god called, right on time, and Liz spoke carefully although her hand was trembling and she felt her knees threatening surrender at any moment. --------------------------------------------------------- Then, as she listened, the man-god informed her of a bonfire party that was taking place that evening on the outskirts of town with students of the university’s MFA Theatre program. He would be leaving in a few hours and casually invited her along, saying that she didn’t have to ride with him if she wanted to leave early, but was welcome to stay in his tent if she wanted to stay the night. --------------------------------------------------------- In her incredulousness, Liz found herself plunged into a delirious euphoria, where everything in the world was magic and the cruelties of reality and society were but mere illusions. Fighting to ignore her wildly ecstatic mind’s whirring, she managed to calmly agree to call him when she’d made up her mind and hang up the phone before erupting in a crazed fit of giggles and general estrogen-fueled screaming. Hot Liz returned with her chocolates to find her insane roommate bounding up and down the hallway and was only able to gather sparse information pertaining to this incredible joy in between Liz’s screaming and panting with excitement. Immediately upon realizing the cause of her friend’s excitement, Hot Liz quickly joined in on the infectious rapture and, soon, everyone in the hallway was dancing with giddy glee at such a triumphant moment (instigated and perpetuated mostly by Hot Liz screaming “THAT HOT GUY IN LIZ’S CLASS ASKED HER OUT!“) ------------------------------------------------------------- But soon after the high of her initial excitement wore off, Liz’s old Opponents slunk casually into her mind, smirking at her excitement and jeering at her optimism. Scoffing, they ridiculed her audacity, “Have you seen this guy’s smoking hot ex-girlfriend? You think he’s interested in an overweight brunette nobody?” -------------------------------------------------------------------- “Well, that’s a pity date if I’ve ever seen one.” they howled with laughter. “You may want to make sure you’re not part of a bet he has going on with his friends.” Unable to control their hysterical chortling, they ribbed each other and continued to shove their version of Reality in Liz’s face. -------------------------------------------------------------------- Slowly, Liz began to see valid points in these familiar Opponents’ arguments. After all, who was she to expect someone so highly esteemed to take an interest in someone so average-looking and unaccomplished as her? Within an hour, Fear and its companions Doubt and Self-Deprecation had consumed her and Liz became convinced that she would only be making a fool of herself by following the man-god to this party. Surely, she would look like a pathetic fangirl, tagging along with him blindly and carrying ridiculous fantasies that she would have a shot with him. And, if by some miracle he did make a move on her that night, it would undoubtedly be because he would be drunk and lonely, perhaps treating himself to a little hero worship to boost his confidence. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- And so, despite the desperate pleading of Hot Liz to reconsider, Liz gave in to her Opponents and never called B back, opting instead to remain nestled in the safe comforts of her fears instead of facing the hurt and loss that she felt was imminent. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Liz never saw the man-god again. At the beginning of the next semester, B sold a screenplay to a studio in Hollywood and promptly moved to LA to bask in his obvious, inevitable success. Liz retreated back into the habits of her self-loathing, finding refuge in the close blindness of alcohol and the fleeting securities of a chronic abusive relationship. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Many years have passed since Liz last saw the man-god. Through a lot of therapy and general rehabilitation she has moved away from such intense self-doubt, finally allowing herself to feel deserving of happiness and a life she can be proud of. It took many years for her to realize that her Opponents were the culprits for her self-sabotage and tolerance for a lifestyle not worthy of her energy. These days, she has a loving, devoted husband with whom she is enamored and a beautiful, joyful little girl who both bring her more joy than she had ever thought she was worthy of experiencing. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- But sometimes she remembers the man-god and the regret of not knowing what could have happened on that night jabs at her heart. --------------------------------------------------------------------- The moral of the story is obvious, unless you’re a complete dolt (in which case, please see me after class) but the truth is that even with this sort of frustration in Liz’s pocket, she still allows Fear to cripple her forward movement more often than she would like to admit. -------------------------------------------------------------------- Slowly, however, it is finally dawning on her that the Fear of looking back on a life of missed opportunities is far greater than the Fear of being hurt in the excited chaos of being alive.