And now, the conclusion of "Never Buy Another Self-Help Book Again!™," my short story. Some sexual language in parts one and three, so skip those if you're put off by that sort of thing.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
I was still on the phone with Tammy when Steve came back in the door. He looked upset, so I got off the phone quickly. It turned out he wasn't mad at me; it was the cruise people.
One of the kitchen workers was diagnosed with hepatitis and all the passengers had been exposed to it. The cruise line was going to cancel the trip and give us vouchers for another ship, but the passengers raised such a stink that the new plan was to bypass Catalina and just cruise on to Mexico. Since we were going to be stuck on this ship together, Steve and I called a truce and tried to get along.
I thought we were doing fine until my phone rang at dinner. Before I could even find out who it was, Steve snatched it out of my hand. He ran over to the rail and pushed the talk button before he threw the phone over the side. I didn't say anything, though, because I hadn't heard him laugh like that for weeks.
Steve suggested that maybe he could do the planning from now on, and I agreed. I said I didn't care what we did, as long as it was spontaneous. He wasn't sure what I meant by that, so I told him all about the article I'd read and how it gave me the idea to plan this cruise. He goes, "Let me get this straight—the author says that to be spontaneous you have to make plans in advance?" I ignored his smart-ass comment for the sake of our truce.
The next day was better between us, but then the captain announced that because of the hepatitis we couldn't go to any of the cities we planned. One little coastal village was willing to overlook the chance of infection for the chance at some tourist dollars, but they would only let us anchor offshore, and we would have to go to town in lifeboats.
The first day in the pueblo we went to an old colonial church and then got something to eat from a street vendor. I ordered a burrito, but I got some kind of tough, grilled meat. The second day we went to a religious art museum, and that about covered the points of interest in town.
We did a lot of walking in the park instead. At first I was really bored—I mean, when you can start to tell the pigeons apart, you’ve spent too much time watching them. I kept wanting to pick up the remote and change the channel.
It was good in one way, though, because Steve and I talked and listened to each other better than we had in a long time. I rediscovered that in his way Steve is kind of wise, like Yoda but without the funny voice.
Steve told me there wasn't a self-help book in the world that held the secret to perfect happiness and that I would have to find it on my own. He even made a joke about how much money we would save by me giving up my habit of buying every new book that came out. When he put it that way, he almost made it sound like my relying on self-help books so much was some kind of addiction.
That was when I got my best idea yet for a career. I came up with a whole motivational workshop and video series on breaking the addiction to self-help books and called it "Never Buy Another Self-Help Book Again!"™ After we got back from the cruise and I started mapping out my plans for the "Never Buy Another Self-Help Book Again!"™ workbook, Steve seemed really supportive at first. But when he got to preview the finished video and workbook, he totally lashed out.
He had the nerve to say I wasn’t curing people of their addiction to self-help books, I was just regurgitating a bunch of ideas from other people’s books—in video format. And then he topped it off by mocking my workbook, laughing hysterically at the way it’s called "Never Buy Another Self-Help Book Again!"™ and it just happens to be a book. All he had to do was open the cover to see that it’s not a self-help book, it’s an individual-support companion to my videos.
Kristal was there for Steve’s tirade, and she warned me that I needed to get his bad spirit out of my life. So I divorced Steve, but I’m not alone on the road. Kristal quit her job and goes everywhere with me. Officially she's my manager, but emotionally she's my anchor. She even handles all the finances so that my math phobia doesn’t kick in and undermine my self-image. And who cares if we’ve been audited two years in a row—it’s got to be a government conspiracy.
Showing posts with label never buy another self help book again. Show all posts
Showing posts with label never buy another self help book again. Show all posts
This is part 3 of a short story; be warned, this section has some sexual language. If you'd like to read the other sections they are at
Part One
Part Two
P.S. I've made it through the first round of judging in the WOW! Quarterly Flash Fiction Contest!
He started to pack his suitcase like this was any other trip and I almost exploded until he finally asked what the big secret was. I got the brochure for the cruise ship, and we stretched out on the bed to look at it together.
The ship left L.A. in the morning and stopped off at Catalina Island before heading down to Baja California. I thought it would be kind of neat to see those places, but the best part was all the activities the cruise offered.
There were three swimming pools, a soccer field, a golf course, a mall, and a casino/stage all packed onto this one ocean liner. We wouldn't even have to set foot on land during the whole trip! When I showed Steve the schedule I made so that we could fit everything into ten days, he looked a little unhappy. He said something like, "I thought this was supposed to be a vacation," and I totally lost it.
I was trying so hard to be spontaneous, and his negative attitude was going to ruin everything! He tried to make up for it and pretended to be enthusiastic, but I knew he was faking it. I guess maybe it wasn't the best timing, but that's when I told him I'd been faking it for a long time.
By morning neither one of us wanted to go on this cruise, but we couldn't get a refund on the tickets, so we showed up anyway. It only got worse because we found out not everything was like they said it was in the brochure.
The swimming pools were so small that there was only enough room for three toddlers in soggy diapers in each one, and the so-called soccer field was a modified Foozball game. Then we found out when we sat down for lunch that the golf course was just a putting green way too close to the on-deck dining area. The only thing that lived up to its claim was the casino/stage. It was like they took a hunk of Las Vegas and grafted it onto the ship, complete with skanky showgirls and pale, wheezy people at the slot machines.
By the second day, this whole bad trip was stressing me out, but luckily I'd brought my cell phone so I could call Tammy and Kristal. It really ticked Steve off when I answered a call right in the middle of him going down on me, though. I guess it was kind of tacky, but the man was going at it like he was at a pie-eating contest—I mean he had no finesse at all. I was starting to think maybe it was better when we didn't have sex.
After Steve threw on some clothes and stomped out of the cabin, I felt a little guilty. I called Tammy and started crying because everything was going wrong. This cruise was supposed to be so romantic and bring us closer together, but it sucked.
I felt much better after Tammy read me a chapter over the phone from my favorite book, Men Are from Uranus. The author was one of the first people to intelligently discuss the theory that men and women are actually separate species seeded on the Earth by aliens. It made me feel better because I knew it wasn't my fault we were having marital problems—men and women hadn't even evolved together. If it wasn't for the aliens' genetic engineering, we wouldn't even be able to create fertile offspring.
Part One
Part Two
P.S. I've made it through the first round of judging in the WOW! Quarterly Flash Fiction Contest!
He started to pack his suitcase like this was any other trip and I almost exploded until he finally asked what the big secret was. I got the brochure for the cruise ship, and we stretched out on the bed to look at it together.
The ship left L.A. in the morning and stopped off at Catalina Island before heading down to Baja California. I thought it would be kind of neat to see those places, but the best part was all the activities the cruise offered.
There were three swimming pools, a soccer field, a golf course, a mall, and a casino/stage all packed onto this one ocean liner. We wouldn't even have to set foot on land during the whole trip! When I showed Steve the schedule I made so that we could fit everything into ten days, he looked a little unhappy. He said something like, "I thought this was supposed to be a vacation," and I totally lost it.
I was trying so hard to be spontaneous, and his negative attitude was going to ruin everything! He tried to make up for it and pretended to be enthusiastic, but I knew he was faking it. I guess maybe it wasn't the best timing, but that's when I told him I'd been faking it for a long time.
By morning neither one of us wanted to go on this cruise, but we couldn't get a refund on the tickets, so we showed up anyway. It only got worse because we found out not everything was like they said it was in the brochure.
The swimming pools were so small that there was only enough room for three toddlers in soggy diapers in each one, and the so-called soccer field was a modified Foozball game. Then we found out when we sat down for lunch that the golf course was just a putting green way too close to the on-deck dining area. The only thing that lived up to its claim was the casino/stage. It was like they took a hunk of Las Vegas and grafted it onto the ship, complete with skanky showgirls and pale, wheezy people at the slot machines.
By the second day, this whole bad trip was stressing me out, but luckily I'd brought my cell phone so I could call Tammy and Kristal. It really ticked Steve off when I answered a call right in the middle of him going down on me, though. I guess it was kind of tacky, but the man was going at it like he was at a pie-eating contest—I mean he had no finesse at all. I was starting to think maybe it was better when we didn't have sex.
After Steve threw on some clothes and stomped out of the cabin, I felt a little guilty. I called Tammy and started crying because everything was going wrong. This cruise was supposed to be so romantic and bring us closer together, but it sucked.
I felt much better after Tammy read me a chapter over the phone from my favorite book, Men Are from Uranus. The author was one of the first people to intelligently discuss the theory that men and women are actually separate species seeded on the Earth by aliens. It made me feel better because I knew it wasn't my fault we were having marital problems—men and women hadn't even evolved together. If it wasn't for the aliens' genetic engineering, we wouldn't even be able to create fertile offspring.
This is another section of my short story, "Never Buy Another Self-Help Book Again!™" Part 1 is here This section doesn't have any sex talk, but the other sections do, so don't read if you're offended by that. Oh, and hopefully the comment snafus from last week are fixed.
Since my sister and Tammy weren’t much help on this subject, I invited Kristal over to get her opinion. She got all distracted when she found a stack of my lists. She claimed I was so unhappy because all this organization was against my Gemini nature. How could I be happy with Steve if I was not in harmony with my inner self, and I was stifling my vital spontaneity?
I called Tammy after Kristal left to tell her what Kristal said. Tammy told me there was an article on being spontaneous in July's issue of Light, so I went right out to get it. It's great to have all these friends looking out for me!
When I got back from the natural-foods store, there was a message from Steve saying he was working late again. I decided to have a real pityfest and gathered up my usual comforting things. I made sure that my box of organic chocolates and herbal tea would be in easy reach and sank into a tub of pure aromatherapy bliss. I allowed myself to relax for exactly eight minutes and then grabbed my magazine.
I found the article Tammy was talking about—it was called "How to Be Spontaneous: A Step-by-Step Guide." First it had a little quiz on identifying stagnated behavior and I got almost a perfect score. I was feeling pretty smug until I read the answer key and found out the object was to get a low score. A high score meant that you were totally dependent on creating structure in your life. I don't know if I would go so far as to say I was addicted to my schedules— I just felt lost if I didn't have one.
I moved on to the article part and the author made a lot of sense to me. She said you should try to set aside a portion of your time every day for spontaneous activities, sort of make it a part of your daily routine. Some exercises were included that walked you through "re-creations of spontaneous acts" that I knew I would have to try sometime. Maybe in a couple of weeks I could fit some spontaneity into my schedule.
I was getting drowsy from the combination of the herbal tea and the hot bath water, until I sat up so suddenly I almost swamped my angel candle. I had just thought of the perfect thing to put some passion back into our love life!
When Steve got home later that night, I was already in bed, but I'd stuck a note to the refrigerator that read "I don't care how you do it, but get ten days off from work! Don't ask me why—it's a surprise that just might save our marriage!"
As he crawled into bed, I heard him whisper my name and ask if I was awake. I pretended to be asleep, but then he said he didn't even know our marriage needed saving. When I didn't answer, he just sighed and rolled over. It was all I could do not to laugh—he was going to be so surprised by my little plan!
Steve did manage to get the ten days off, so I made all the arrangements for us to leave for a cruise in three weeks. I wanted to keep the whole thing a secret until the last minute, but it was so hard to do. I'm one of those people that just can't wait for gratification—if I buy someone a birthday present early, I have to give it to them right away so I can see their face. This drives some of my friends crazy because by the time their real birthday does come around, I have to buy them something else because I feel guilty about not having something to give them.
For only about the third time in my life I managed to hold out and not give away the secret. Finally it was the night before the vacation started. Steve came home late and seemed really tired, but I had just finished an espresso so I was bouncing all over the room like that Tasmanian devil guy.
Since my sister and Tammy weren’t much help on this subject, I invited Kristal over to get her opinion. She got all distracted when she found a stack of my lists. She claimed I was so unhappy because all this organization was against my Gemini nature. How could I be happy with Steve if I was not in harmony with my inner self, and I was stifling my vital spontaneity?
I called Tammy after Kristal left to tell her what Kristal said. Tammy told me there was an article on being spontaneous in July's issue of Light, so I went right out to get it. It's great to have all these friends looking out for me!
When I got back from the natural-foods store, there was a message from Steve saying he was working late again. I decided to have a real pityfest and gathered up my usual comforting things. I made sure that my box of organic chocolates and herbal tea would be in easy reach and sank into a tub of pure aromatherapy bliss. I allowed myself to relax for exactly eight minutes and then grabbed my magazine.
I found the article Tammy was talking about—it was called "How to Be Spontaneous: A Step-by-Step Guide." First it had a little quiz on identifying stagnated behavior and I got almost a perfect score. I was feeling pretty smug until I read the answer key and found out the object was to get a low score. A high score meant that you were totally dependent on creating structure in your life. I don't know if I would go so far as to say I was addicted to my schedules— I just felt lost if I didn't have one.
I moved on to the article part and the author made a lot of sense to me. She said you should try to set aside a portion of your time every day for spontaneous activities, sort of make it a part of your daily routine. Some exercises were included that walked you through "re-creations of spontaneous acts" that I knew I would have to try sometime. Maybe in a couple of weeks I could fit some spontaneity into my schedule.
I was getting drowsy from the combination of the herbal tea and the hot bath water, until I sat up so suddenly I almost swamped my angel candle. I had just thought of the perfect thing to put some passion back into our love life!
When Steve got home later that night, I was already in bed, but I'd stuck a note to the refrigerator that read "I don't care how you do it, but get ten days off from work! Don't ask me why—it's a surprise that just might save our marriage!"
As he crawled into bed, I heard him whisper my name and ask if I was awake. I pretended to be asleep, but then he said he didn't even know our marriage needed saving. When I didn't answer, he just sighed and rolled over. It was all I could do not to laugh—he was going to be so surprised by my little plan!
Steve did manage to get the ten days off, so I made all the arrangements for us to leave for a cruise in three weeks. I wanted to keep the whole thing a secret until the last minute, but it was so hard to do. I'm one of those people that just can't wait for gratification—if I buy someone a birthday present early, I have to give it to them right away so I can see their face. This drives some of my friends crazy because by the time their real birthday does come around, I have to buy them something else because I feel guilty about not having something to give them.
For only about the third time in my life I managed to hold out and not give away the secret. Finally it was the night before the vacation started. Steve came home late and seemed really tired, but I had just finished an espresso so I was bouncing all over the room like that Tasmanian devil guy.
While I'm working on revisions on my novel, I thought I'd post a short story that's been sitting in a drawer for a long time. I wrote this for a class years ago and it just never found a home, but I really like parts of it. It's one of the few contemporary things I've written (or at least it was current ten years ago) and is about 2900 words, so I'll break it up into 4 chunks and post them over 4 weeks. And just so you're warned, it does have some sexual content/language.
Never Buy Another Self-Help Book Again!™
I knew our marriage was in a rut when my husband, Steve, and I went a whole month without sex and I didn't notice right away. I don't want you to think I'm a nympho or anything; it's just that sex usually showed up on my schedule at least once a week and I'd gotten used to it.
I guess it took me a while to notice the lack-of-sex thing because I was trying to pick a major in college, now that I could afford to go back to school full time. I took classes in art, drama, women's studies—just about every subject, but I was having a hard time deciding which way to go.
If I decided to get a degree, I'd be stuck with that subject for years. I wasn't sure if I was ready for that kind of commitment, especially with my tendency toward flakiness. Like when I say I took all those classes, what I mean is that I took the classes for a month or so and then decided they weren’t what I was looking for, so I dropped out. Except sometimes I forgot to officially drop at the Admissions office, so my transcript shows all these F’s that I didn’t even earn.
Maybe now is a good time to say I was born under the sign of Gemini; my friend Kristal says that Geminis are notorious for starting a million projects at once and only finishing half of them. I met Kristal at a support group for Wronged Children, and she's really into astrology and numerology and stuff. Nothing like black magic or voodoo, just harmless things about how the planets control your destiny.
Anyway, Geminis are also supposed to be really good at everything, but they only stick with it if they excel right away. Otherwise they lose interest and move onto the next project. To help me stop scattering my energies so much, my other friend Tammy gave me this book on how to organize your life and stop procrastinating.
That's what it's called—Organize Your Life Now and Stop Procrastinating! It helped me a lot because I got in the habit of making lists of things to do. I got this wonderful feeling of accomplishment whenever I crossed an item off. Since I started cutting back on fat at the same time, that was really the only treat I allowed myself.
All on my own I took that list idea a little bit further. I started giving myself a deadline for each task and making it into a schedule, like this:
8:15-8:30 Wake up
Mentally go over a list for the day
8:30-8:53 Shower
8:53-9:00 Dry off
Free time to squeeze blackheads, pluck eyebrows, etc.
9:00-9:15 Get dressed
9:15-9:30 Style hair and put on makeup
9:30-9:55 Eat
and so on . . .
I usually scheduled all my waking hours this way so that I was never without something to do. In fact, if I did something that wasn't on my list, I added it on so I could cross it off and get that extra little kick.
My husband always teased me about my lists. If I left one lying around, Steve would add things like, "Breathe every three seconds," and "Read horoscopes to determine best time to empty bowels." He thought he was being cute, but it was just more work for me because I had to recopy the lists. Which reminds me, I started out talking about our relationship.
It was obvious to everyone except Steve that we were having problems. My friends gave me all kinds of advice, but my sister said it was all my fault for marrying a guy eleven years older than me. After all, she argued, he peaked sexually like twenty years ago, and I should just be getting started. I wasn't sure whether or not to believe that because I've heard older guys stay primed longer, as long as they don't have a heart attack right there on top of you.
Tammy told me that the thing that first attracts you to a man is also the first thing you come to hate about him. Like if you're charmed by his boyish playfulness, by the end of the relationship you can't stand his childish behavior. I think that’s so true because when we first started going out, Steve was nothing like the other guys I had dated; he was stable, tender, and easygoing. Of course after a few years, I saw him as predictable, soft, and apathetic. It was the mediocre sex that was really starting to worry me, though.
Never Buy Another Self-Help Book Again!™
I knew our marriage was in a rut when my husband, Steve, and I went a whole month without sex and I didn't notice right away. I don't want you to think I'm a nympho or anything; it's just that sex usually showed up on my schedule at least once a week and I'd gotten used to it.
I guess it took me a while to notice the lack-of-sex thing because I was trying to pick a major in college, now that I could afford to go back to school full time. I took classes in art, drama, women's studies—just about every subject, but I was having a hard time deciding which way to go.
If I decided to get a degree, I'd be stuck with that subject for years. I wasn't sure if I was ready for that kind of commitment, especially with my tendency toward flakiness. Like when I say I took all those classes, what I mean is that I took the classes for a month or so and then decided they weren’t what I was looking for, so I dropped out. Except sometimes I forgot to officially drop at the Admissions office, so my transcript shows all these F’s that I didn’t even earn.
Maybe now is a good time to say I was born under the sign of Gemini; my friend Kristal says that Geminis are notorious for starting a million projects at once and only finishing half of them. I met Kristal at a support group for Wronged Children, and she's really into astrology and numerology and stuff. Nothing like black magic or voodoo, just harmless things about how the planets control your destiny.
Anyway, Geminis are also supposed to be really good at everything, but they only stick with it if they excel right away. Otherwise they lose interest and move onto the next project. To help me stop scattering my energies so much, my other friend Tammy gave me this book on how to organize your life and stop procrastinating.
That's what it's called—Organize Your Life Now and Stop Procrastinating! It helped me a lot because I got in the habit of making lists of things to do. I got this wonderful feeling of accomplishment whenever I crossed an item off. Since I started cutting back on fat at the same time, that was really the only treat I allowed myself.
All on my own I took that list idea a little bit further. I started giving myself a deadline for each task and making it into a schedule, like this:
8:15-8:30 Wake up
Mentally go over a list for the day
8:30-8:53 Shower
8:53-9:00 Dry off
Free time to squeeze blackheads, pluck eyebrows, etc.
9:00-9:15 Get dressed
9:15-9:30 Style hair and put on makeup
9:30-9:55 Eat
and so on . . .
I usually scheduled all my waking hours this way so that I was never without something to do. In fact, if I did something that wasn't on my list, I added it on so I could cross it off and get that extra little kick.
My husband always teased me about my lists. If I left one lying around, Steve would add things like, "Breathe every three seconds," and "Read horoscopes to determine best time to empty bowels." He thought he was being cute, but it was just more work for me because I had to recopy the lists. Which reminds me, I started out talking about our relationship.
It was obvious to everyone except Steve that we were having problems. My friends gave me all kinds of advice, but my sister said it was all my fault for marrying a guy eleven years older than me. After all, she argued, he peaked sexually like twenty years ago, and I should just be getting started. I wasn't sure whether or not to believe that because I've heard older guys stay primed longer, as long as they don't have a heart attack right there on top of you.
Tammy told me that the thing that first attracts you to a man is also the first thing you come to hate about him. Like if you're charmed by his boyish playfulness, by the end of the relationship you can't stand his childish behavior. I think that’s so true because when we first started going out, Steve was nothing like the other guys I had dated; he was stable, tender, and easygoing. Of course after a few years, I saw him as predictable, soft, and apathetic. It was the mediocre sex that was really starting to worry me, though.
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