“Flings and Numbing Things”
Fiction. Based on a True First Hollywood Kiss.
By Mingjie Zhai
Photo By Pexel
“…my numbing thing was just having very meaningless relationships, flings, men, just like, in and out of my life. Sort of like this really crazy…fighting and emotionally abusive things…just this addiction to it…and when I find someone who’s really sweet and loving and would treat me right, I would just be like, ‘eh’” -Julia Price
This journal entry is inspired by true events. Some of the characters, names, businesses, incidents, and certain locations and events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Any similarity to the name, character or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional.
Angelie told herself today that she will not contact Rylie. She keeps thinking about him. He had her at “Twitter.” Not the app itself, but the way he says it. He says twitter like “twit-tarr,” with a Scottish curl. Initially, she was still holding onto the fantasy that her and B would reconcile, so she was trying to hook Rylie up with her good friends, first Mandy and then Misty. He never took those dates.
It didn’t occur to her that this boy is a great catch for her until they were Skyping three months into the relationship. She felt the ease of his charm and he had felt the ease of hers. She was so excited about the project, the passion was all there, and he admired her for it. He had the kind of smile that made you feel like you could trust him. Your best friend. She trusted it so much that she didn’t trust it.
“Jesus is dead,” he told her on their second date. She knew he would be a challenge the way Green Eyes, the Irishmen she had almost married, would be a challenge. She knew that at the end of the entire relationship, she wasn’t going to change him. So it’s either accept him exactly as he is now or move on.
After their first date, she already knew he was trouble, the way she knew Sonny was trouble, the way she knew Green Eyes and B were both trouble. It felt like a spell. She was falling in love.
Three times a charm eh?
Or three times is insanity.
What did all the men have in common?
They are all alcoholics.
She had once called Dr. Drew and Mike on the radio to complain about Green Eyes on one of those nights she was going through serious love withdrawals. He inserted himself into her brain, to a point of torture, like a broken record of a song you are already sick and tired of hearing, and it drove her crazy. Her entire body was aching.
It was a curse. The curse of love perhaps, the curse of wanting to transform him, the curse of wanting to be the apple of his eye. Looking back, it was probably what Green Eyes willed. He was in the Emulatareen, perhaps a 33rd degree, and he stood for Angelie. He knew how to execute on curses, charms, and spells. And he wanted the best life for Angelie that he could give her. She wanted him to get grounded in the faith and power of Jesus Christ. They had even celebrated Christmas together, but there was a part of her that knew that if she had stuck with him, he would have been the death of her. Black and blue, bruised, and she would have clung on like a martyr thinking it was all for his salvation, that somehow she was the cause of his salvation into heaven, but Holy Spirit had other plans for her.
Faith in Jesus.
Sometimes you got to let go for the miracle to happen, the way Sonny had to let her go so that one day she could wind up in the walls of a 12 step support group, leading to her salvation and faith that God is alive and real. Sonny had prayed for her salvation. He was born a Catholic, and somewhere in the middle of their rocky marriage, he had made a selfless prayer–it was for his wife.
God, please work through her so she may one day be delivered from her alcoholism. She doesn’t realize how much she hurts me. Her words cut me, her hands deal blows, and her hatred for me grows as each day she says that I trap her when all I want to do is provide, protect, and care for her. God, please transform her, allow her to see the collateral damages of her alcoholic nature. I know that we haven’t spoken in a long time, but I ask through prayer and faith, that one day she may be healed from this deadly dis-ease.
Perhaps that prayer is working as of today. She’s in now in Bill’s program the way Sonny’s father is also in the program. In so many ways, Angelie still feels that Sonny’s father, though they are divorced, is still Angelie’s father in law. They were together for 7 years, and Angelie was the first girl that his son brought home to meet both mother and father. That’s how much Angelie meant to Sonny. With her alcoholic mind, she forgot. She had forgotten how wide and how deep Sonny really loved her and may still love her. After all these years, she had forgotten that Sonny was, is, and will always be an alcoholic, like his dad, like his first wife, and like the many who came before him–the bloodline, the gene of alcohol, the mindset, and the deep heartfelt knowing of one who is capable of being woke only to live through the pain of seeing others still asleep, so the alcohol is there to numb what the individual is too afraid to speak the truth of.
Alcoholics are the travelers who have the ability to see and that is where the alcohol works through the double-minded catalyzation and the destruction of the individual.
The way Sonny drank, it was to numb out the depth that one feels should both Sonny and Angelie choose to work through a spiritual program together instead of breaking up and avoiding it. Angelie is sure that He has delivered her from the spell of suicide that was placed upon her through the cutthroat words of her former alcoholic lover, the same way her alcoholic words had cut through and broken apart the soul of her husband. It was a spell, because words have power and anger, delusion, and resentment buried with alcohol are the burial ground we lay for our nearest and dearest. Suicide is a spell that gets amplified by pharmakea. She didn’t tell her doctor or anyone for that matter of the revelation of these drug substances in the form of white pills produced by the manipulation of matter from wizards, mages, and witches of the highest order of knowledge and alchemy, because to sound out the truth would sound crazy to a normal person.
“Hello, Dr. Drew?”
“Yes, Mary Jane, how can we help?”
“I had dated an abusive alcoholic whom I had almost married. He was handsome, smart, and charming, but I soon found out that he was Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and I can’t stop thinking about him. I want to be with him again, but he’s terrible for me. How can I stop obsessing over him?”
“How long has it been since the breakup?”
“Almost over 6 months now. I’m still angry and bitter that he left and I keep wanting to fix his alcoholism even now that we haven’t spoken in over four months.”
“Have you considered that maybe there’s something there on your end that you are not dealing with?”
“What do you mean?”
“The obsession over his alcoholism. Usually, alcoholics run in the family and they tend to attract one another. Have you considered that you’re perhaps an alcoholic?”
They met because Angelie soon found out that he had to fulfill his mandatory volunteer hours for a nonprofit as part of his DUI program. He had told her the story of the time he had fallen off a roof because he was so drunk, but for some reason, a moss tree had broken his fall. A girl who watched him tumble down the three-story building was screaming when she saw Humpty Dumpty fall.
“Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,”
BY MOTHER GOOSE
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall;
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men
Couldn’t put Humpty together again.
“Were you drunk?” she asked him on their date.
“Yeah,” he said half proudly.
What makes Angelie think she could put this man together when all the king’s horses and the king’s men couldn’t even do so?
Green Eyes had a similar story. She could already see a mile away how their relationship would turn out. With passion, pain, and all the torment in between.
It all starts with intrigue. She is familiar with this attraction. It’s been like this since she first set eyes on Dean Dillan, her elementary school crush. She wanted him the moment she first laid eyes on him. She had taken her clothes off so he could draw her. She learned the art of seduction at an early age. How? How did she learn such arts? Was it the movies? Was it books? Was it …
All she had to do was look at the history of the Irishman and predict how the Scotsman would act accordingly. They are green cousins after all. Druids perhaps. Gaelic. Harsh, bitter, and survivalists and yet so romantic, pastoral, and strong. The blood that courses through their veins is thick. It turns Angelie on. She can get along with them well because she understood and enjoyed the dark humor. Or perhaps, there was a silver lining called love in the chaos of their pride, their luck, and the superstitions of the supernatural.
She never quite revisited her lust affair with Green Eyes. She had a choice that time. It was the tall, skinny, rural Boston College graduate, movie director, or the fast talker, with the big black truck, in the Emulator lodges of Hollywood’s club of the Emulateren. He was in the boys club with one who could build lights and tear down peace with a flicker of his liquored eyes.
Green Eyes looked like Leo DiCaprio but when he drank, he was possessed. The eyes are blackened like Cajun catfish and Loki assumes his body. He had named his daemon, or at least, that’s how Angelie interpreted his alcoholism and his bipolar before downplaying and dismissing his confessions to her that he was part of a network of Watchers. Now, she realizes perhaps he was just confiding in her because holding onto the truth of what he had inherited from a childhood of abuse and alcoholism was part of the Tabula condition of the absolute one world totalitarian matrix.
They had watched Inception together and as they were walking out of the movie theatre, there was a life-sized display of Leo whereby Angelie had asked Green Eyes to stand next to.
Putting all her energy, love, and attention on this man as if he was the make and break of her was the spell that perhaps he or the gypsy she had hired to cast a love spell on him had created.
Rylie had sent her a video of him playing the acoustic guitar.
“Finally, you gave me something I can masturbate to,” she texted back…
“lol,” he responded.
She was driving home from her work office on a particularly late evening and wondering if he was thinking about her the way she was thinking about him. She wonders if he checks her social media info out the way she looks at his.
You need to stop.
The addiction is starting again. External validation. She justifies it as her biological clock ticking. But really, it’s like choosing another Green Eyes all over again. Sure it was wild, crazy, stupid, drunk, love, but it was also painful to be so intimate with someone who has two personalities and later realizing it was just a twin flame staring into the other twin flame, and looking at the male version of yourself can sometimes be so painful and take so much energy to do the inner work of this sort.
Tis easier to just dismiss and run the other way. She sensed his Dr. Jekyll and knew there was a Mr. Hyde.
She remembers the intrigue of initially hanging out with Darren when she was in Denver, Colorado. It was a romp for a few weeks. He left for a family holiday and she soon hooked up with a college kid and later a band member who turned away from music to become a Marijuana grower for the real-life mother version of the main character in Weeds. After her series of romps, she couldn’t even look at Darren the same way. It was as if his very presence irritated her. He knew it too. Something was off about Angelie.
It was guilt and shame. She wouldn’t touch him because she had already touched another man and didn’t want him to feel betrayed the way she had done B. She kept drinking to keep this delusion of being the metropolitan man-izing career woman going. She also justified it as this man is simply too simple for her. Now that she knows how B really feels about her, she had hurt him deeply before anything sustainable could even start. And the resentment of knowing the ugly truth of how he views her as unsophisticated, childish, impulsive, and untrustworthy was the fuel that propelled her to want to drink more.
It was an addiction.
Femme Fatale addiction.
Was it a coincidence that she popped into Skylar Grey’s session and listened to her play live, “Gangsta.”
The words were haunting, or rather charming.
The same way that a few days before she met Rylie for the first time in person, she had a one night hookup with the man who reminded her of the young and hungry version of the hip-hop media man she had invested in when she first got into the publishing industry. The lust was a wicked red monster in the guise of green dreams, ambitions, and possibilities of riches in the city of fallen and heavenly angels. It had thick lips. Pink perhaps, like the Orchids she had seen at the Denver Botanical Gardens. It wanted to swallow any male energy it trapped and Angelie was the puppet and the Venus fly trap.
Something else was pulling her strings.
Succubus, life-sucking energy. The Jezebel spirit’s energy that drains you rather than energizes you.
Angelie could justify it as the “feminist movement,” “the single life,” or justify casual sex as being part of the hookup culture trending. Monogamy is so passé, especially in the LA entertainment culture, and it’s in all the music videos. Some friends she knew in the industry leveraged sex like it was part of the business contract, and it was so normalized that there was not even an afterthought in the proposition. She was offended when she was first propositioned, but come to think of it, how is it any different than LA hookup culture by doing favors and getting favors done for the people who hooked up with her? Sex was part of an unspoken agreement of business. She could either go with it or walk away altogether. Her alcoholic mind did not see the silver lining of the middle ground, and though she believed in the power of John 3:16, she knew that her spiritual powers weaken every time she bites into the forbidden fruit of easy men, easy conversations, and careless promises. On a supernatural level, it was also about soul contracts for soul ties. It promises to do the devil’s work by bringing others down. Crabs in a bucket mentality. Hivemind, or perhaps, Charlotte’s Web. The pig survives but the spider dies. It was the either/or mentality of survival. Why? Cause of the reptilian energy.
She had gone to a Christina Caine’s live taping the day prior. Before the taping, Angelie was sitting in the waiting lounge next to three elderly Christian women. The conversation of soul ties came up when one of the ladies brought up deliverance. “When you are soul-tied to someone, you not only have your own strongholds to deal with but that of the other person’s daemons to take strongholds, that may lead to possession if unchecked.” Casual sex was also a form of mind control to us keep sinning. And as Dr. Jordan Peterson and Joseph Campbell would say, “sin” is essentially, “missing the mark.” Not mark of the beast, but the mark of your destiny. The more sex soul-ties one generates with others who are also sinning, the more you move up the beast system, like pigs going up the conveyor belt ready to be slaughtered. The goal of the addiction is to weaken and constrict the soul, like tying it down with a straight jacket so that the daemons can inhabit the body since daemons are dismembered spirits who lust for a body to inhabit.
Angelie wasn’t fully present when Rylie first kissed her. All she could think of is how much her kisses stung. Poisonous. When he kissed her there was a mixture of guilt laced with acidic fire, fueled by a mixture of frustration and resentment of herself. By the time he pulled away, the aftertaste felt like poison. Many a time she had dominated the conversation when her plan is to lay back and listen carefully to what he had to say about himself. She can pick up the clues when she has a clear mind, but not with an alcoholic mind.
When he kissed her goodnight that evening, she was fully aware that she was the poison ivy. She felt it on her lips. At first, she wanted to believe that it came from him, but the truth is that it came from both of them.
Their first kiss was bitter because the kiss was a spell from the weight of both their sins combined. Lust, bitterness, resentment, and the alcoholic dis-ease, the fire catching more fire.
She felt it from Holy Spirit.
Pivot or trouble will unfold.