Day 14 - Teresa's side of the story

With David it was hate, deep hatred at first sight.

I hated him the moment I saw his photograph. But he was perfect. Perfect for the plan I had in mind.

I knew David's type well. Liked to use women the way you use toilet paper. Handsome good looking guys who were responsible for at least two dozens of broken hearts by the time they were 25.

Just to make sure I was also looking for a loser in life and David was just that. The private investigator I hired to find a man for my plan was thorough. The idiot of a good looker had almost died from a drug overdose and had been taken into some city sponsored drug rehab program. To everybody's surprise, he had somehow pulled through and managed to remain clean for quite a while.

It was is dream to make it big as the next internet millionaire that probably kept him going. I watched him for a number of days at the public library in downtown LA. You could see the determination in his eyes.

It was important that he be clean from drugs. I didn't want my carefully laid plans being messed up by some junkie.

Men were so easy to manipulate because they were easy to read. It was all in the eyes. And I saw a lot of things that I understood in David's eyes.

It was easy to organize the “accidental” meeting that he kept on referring to.

Then there was that day when I visited that hell hole he called home. It was real effort for me to ignore the terrible smell in the place. I couldn't tell what it was exactly, socks thrown behind the bed for weeks or his unwashed under wear, I don't know. But it was quite an effort sitting there with what must have been a stupid smile on my face saying all the right things. I should have been nominated for an Oscar for that little performance.

In fact that bad smell incident almost made me reject him and get somebody else. I didn’t want that filthy smell following me across Africa. Somehow I convinced myself that there were very few things that good regular bathing and soap couldn’t cure. Thank God that I was right.

On that night in his hell hole, his eyes were busy. They briefly went to my thighs and it was a real thrill to see that there was interest in them eyes. Actually more than just a casual interest. It was almost lust. For a woman my age it was a real thrill to see that I could still do that to a man.

Yes. I knew his type quite well.

I took every precaution, even had him take an Aids test. Not that I would ever let him make love to me. Just in case, you never knew with these men. Imagine my carefully laid plans being messed up because I got Aids from this ex-junkie.

What I told him was of course a complete lie. It was the only way to get his co-operation. There was no way I would tell him the truth. That would be suicide on my part. Not after wasting away all those years waiting... waiting for the right moment.

I was taking no chances, even had a lawyer sign that thick agreement and as usual, I knew exactly what to do to make sure that I had him on a tight leash all the time. I offered him a miserable 50,000 dollars. He could not believe his eyes when he got the down payment of 10,000 to be followed by the balance of 40,000 only when it was all over. After he had accomplished his task. I must admit it I rather enjoyed having him on a leash at my beck and call. I rather enjoyed it more than I would have ever expected.

I guess the whole problem with my plans started with the fact that David reminded me so much of a man from my past.

Shawn, that stupid weak man who haunted me so.

It had all started like a big joke with my friends. He was supposedly the guy who could never get a date all on his own. You know the shy reserved guy who secretly loves women but lives in a fantasy world. The sort of guy who has the looks but finds it easier to pick up a hooker than to get a real relationship going.

So we set it all up with my two friends. He was a neighbor at the apartment to one of them. I would pretend that I’d fallen in love with him. Just to see what a man was prepared to do for a woman he loved.

The idea was that we would all meet for a laugh later and share the details. It was never to happen.

He was taller than he looked in the photograph I had been shown. And meeting him in person there was something about him. That something that attracts women. I don’t know how to describe it. That mysterious interior behind the dark tall stranger so to speak, that every woman wants to explore. Even when they know that it is a bad idea. Actually, especially when they know it is a bad idea.

After the wine I found myself laughing a little more than I should have.

Was this a set up? My friends had said that the guy had trouble talking to ladies. He was a little nervous at first but when he had got going I would have classified him in the exact opposite category.

I was naturally cautious the whole evening. Having had my first abortion and broken heart at the age of 18, I had no illusions about men, I understood them enough to know exactly what I wanted. I wanted a secure future and a man with plenty of cash to leave me independent and rich by the time the divorce would inevitably come up.

What was I then doing here with this good looking man in a restaurant four hours after the brief date was supposed to have ended?