She Has Risen

There I was, surrounded by the chaos I had created; or rather the chaos that he had created, accelerated in the moment by the venomous words I was spewing at rapid fire. I continued with the guidance of a hidden, yet familiar voice. The voice within was snowballing with confidence, growing louder, and taking on a new, rather pleased tone. Was I smiling?

As the voice empowered me, I also felt a sense of pride in a skill for the performing arts I never knew I had. I welcomed my new stage as my words pummeled him, battered him into the ground where he belonged. Surely there was a smile he could detect around my lips. I really only continued in order to sharpen a superpower I did, in fact, always know I possessed. I was adding strength to the inner voice through the words I now used as weapons.

I always believed in a woman’s intuition, and I always felt mine was stronger than most. As I ordered him out, with a slam of the door for effect, I returned to my home now with a certain smile that culminated in laughter. This was beyond therapeutic. I felt reborn. I diligently searched within for any resemblance of sadness, instead I heard a song.

The dynamic voice from within now made way for Chaka Khan’s “I’m Every Woman”. My first thought was to not let this moment of empowerment be tainted by some desire to turn it into a bullshit Hollywood scene. The very next thought was more of a realization. This wasn’t a low point in my life that needed commercial wrapping paper. My best chapter was irrefutably about to begin and any celebration was genuinely my own. The DJ working out of a booth in my frontal cortex instinctively turned it up. Chaka Khan.

As I danced around with my higher power, I made a vow to never doubt it again. It was this highly attuned intuition that told me not to marry Tom in the first place. It began to speak up after only a few dates with him. It told me to keep it moving the instant I heard his “boys” affectionately call him “T-bone”. I knew he was a serial cheater and liar in the way he smiled, danced, and took a compliment from the opposite sex. Why hadn’t I listened?

Although I had silenced my voice in saying yes to his marriage proposal, I now relished in the consolation that I had listened when confronted by his many recent proposals to start a family. I had repeatedly come up with excuses why the time wasn’t right, led by the voice in my head that was loud and clear; Tom didn’t deserve me, or my womb.

In finally giving in to the power of my intuition, I confronted Tom about his infidelities without any actual proof. I threatened to expose all of the evidence, that I didn’t actually have, and Tom predictably folded his hand. The pot is mine T-bone, thanks for playing.

In the months and communications with a divorce attorney that followed, my future looked bright. Although I didn’t have a plan in motion yet, an entirely different one was most certainly on the way. Dodging one of life’s bullets had changed me, and my perspective. One thing I did know for sure was that whatever direction my life was about to veer would not be influenced by any man. I was living for me and the future will be beautiful, and tranquil, and exhilarating.

Name: Liz Bingham

Although it felt good to see my maiden name again in filling out this field, nothing felt right about doing so for an online dating profile. I paused for a moment as I considered whether or not to continue, and then even longer to cross-examine my right mind in ever taking the name Liz Gagne in the first place. Gag. One of so many clear and obvious signs to walk away from Tom before marrying him. Seriously, what was I thinking? The signs couldn’t have been more obvious if an actual being floated down from the heavens and slapped me in the face.

It dawned on me three days later that I had, in fact, submitted a ridiculous dating profile for others to judge. I had found some comedic value in being brutally honest with each answer. Here I was, three days later, opening the site again in a similar vein of jest.

“Let’s see what losers I roped in” I couldn’t help but say out loud as I powered on my laptop.

19 responses to my profile? I guess they all liked my picture. After a quick skim through these horny bastards, I was shocked to see that roughly half of them were actually attractive. That’s what their profile picture was trying to sell anyway. I skeptically dove deeper. Twenty minutes later I walked away, annoyed that I had wasted as much time.

Later that night my mind drifted back to one particular profile. The picture definitely screamed ‘my type’ but that powerful voice screamed back, “Don’t you dare Lizzy! Don’t chase a guy based on his appearance. Don’t fall back into that old trap.” It couldn’t hurt to just peruse his profile a bit further, right? It’s not like I’m doing anything right now anyway. “Here we go again.”

The supplementary inspection that followed revealed two other intriguing details about this individual, aside from his profile picture. For one, he was an MIT grad. Brains to go along with those looks…perfect. He was also a recent, younger divorcee. Surely we would have that to bond over. “Lizzy, the last thing you need right now is to “bond” with any man. It is YOU time.” The voice in my head convinced me to shut the laptop again and go to bed.

I awoke the next morning with an understanding that I would, indeed, reply to this possibly attractive, divorced MIT grad. Did I catch my intuition sleeping? “Got one by the goalie again Liz, proceed with caution.” Some keystrokes couldn’t hurt. I’ll just gather some more information for my superpower to work with. Just to be sure.

This level of research lasted about three weeks, with new data being collected every few days. This was always on my terms. I needed it that way. Although he, let’s just call him MIT, was quick to reply to each of my messages, I purposely made him wait. I couldn’t have him thinking he was high on my priority list.

MIT sounded interesting for the most part, at least through a keyboard. His grammar, knowledge, and wit all appeared to exemplify intelligence. After some heedful fishing, it did not appear that his divorce was a result of any cheating, which was also important to me.

The only thing I found annoying about MIT was his obsession with wine. He seemed to view it as a social status. Every question he served at me about wine felt like a test. After telling him I preferred red over white, he demanded to know which red was my favorite. My countermeasure was to lie. My response was Merlot.

I figured any phony wine snob would be influenced by the movie Sideways, in which the main character listed indisputable reasons why a distinguished palate could not possibly prefer the grape of Merlot. I was a bit surprised when he didn’t take the bait. Instead, I had to sit through a short dissertation on the underappreciation for the earlier ripening of such a delicate, yet dark, grape.

MIT then launched into a sales pitch for a particular French bottle of Merlot that I absolutely had to try. He seemed to be thinking ten charming steps ahead when it “dawned” on him that there is a brilliant online wine delivery company that is currently offering the very bottle. You see, this incredible company customizes a unique experience for their members in delivering just the right bottles from all over the world. The company, and its concierge service, “will make you feel like they know you personally.” Oh, he almost forgot to mention that the company, Bright Cellars, was created by two MIT grads that he happened to go to school with. There it is.

Well, I gave him an A for presentation. I finally agreed to meet him for a drink. He initially invited me to his house so that I could try this magically delivered French Merlot, but my intuition would absolutely not accept. I instead agreed to meet at a nearby restaurant that “also had a Merlot to die for” on hand. What were the odds? If anything, I was amused by the fact that I didn’t particularly care for Merlot. Saturday it is.

My intuitive voice was getting louder with each day leading up to my first date since Tom. It told me in rather blunt terms not to get too excited, as there would be no second date. I was still asking myself why I was even bothering, even as I walked into said restaurant on said Saturday evening.

Although I was early, MIT was already waiting for me at a table in the back. I nearly took a seat at the bar before the obnoxious aircraft marshaller abruptly signaled me to the rear shadows. I will say, there was some shock and relief in finding an accurate representation of his online profile picture, but the thought continued to evaporate with each approaching step into an overzealous air that suffocated any physical appeal.

I sat down to a glass of red wine that he took the liberty in ordering without me. He again assured me it was a Merlot I would be enamored with, but his eagerness seemed to stretch beyond first impressions. My intuition was absolutely tingling now, forcing my mind into overdrive. Before I could weigh the moral implication, I distracted him just long enough to swap glasses. I guess I’m all in, yet again.

I was fortunate that he had yet to sip from his own glass prior to my arrival, otherwise he most certainly would have suspected the maneuver. I launched right into conversation to get the night moving. After nearly an hour of my bullshit, which included rave reviews of the wine, there was a noticeable change in his speech and behavior. My power was once again reigning supreme, and I had turned his drugged attempt against him. What an absolute shitbag.

I got him out of the restaurant and into my car with just enough time to obtain the home address I needed. Ten minutes later I pulled into his driveway, as his stretched seat belt struggled to hold him, and my heart rate, in check. Time was fleeting as I somehow found the strength to get him through the front door and onto his couch. Without a thought, I divulged a vial of powder from his pocket, standing there now with my phone in the other hand. Intuition was clearly at the wheel with the pedal floored. I tagged him on a Facebook Live session and began speaking:

“Hi, this is Liz Bingham and this piece of shit approached me on Select Singles for a date. Let’s just say I got more than a bad feeling about him and the drink he had waiting for me. I switched our drinks when he wasn’t looking and this is how he ended up, just over an hour later. I got his address so I could leave him here before going to the police with this powder that I found in his front pocket. I’m sure there’s other girls out there that he successfully turned into victims, in case I need the corroboration. In the meantime, take a good look so you’re not next!”

In that moment, my power of intuition seemed to rise to new heights like the phoenix itself…and I knew the future looked bright indeed.