Page 5 of Operation Annulment
I cry until the water turns cold.
I cry until I can’t even pinpoint what’s making me sad anymore.
two
COMMANDMENT #3: THOU SHALT TRUST THE UNIVERSE
Kate
“He bent me over the island and lifted up my skirt before dropping to his knees like he’s about to worship—wait. What was the question again?”
Carla begins every session by recounting how her husband discovered her affairs before digressing into her favorite topic.
Sex.
“I asked if you regret Jackie finding out about your affairs,” I tell her before taking a sip from my coffee mug.
She mashes her lips together and offers a shaky nod. “I do. I was too blind to see what I had when I had it, and if I could go back, I wouldn’t have wasted so much time being angry at him for leaving me.”
Having documented this story more times than I can count, I doodle another heart in my notebook and once again question my decision to take Carla Snyder on as a patient.
It was meant to be a simple favor to a former therapist in ourpractice when she was offered a job in Denver. Amelia’s notes indicated the patient displayed bipolar tendencies, but I’m convinced Carla is a textbook sociopath, and I’m just the sucker who got stuck with her.
“I love him.” On cue, she sucks in a ragged breath and buries her face in a tissue—like Jackie’s decision to leave the marriage is recent and not something that occurred three years ago.
Her performance might have been more convincing had I not heard various versions of this story in the past. In one, she wasn’t cheating but simply trying to get a drunk man home to his wife. In another, the man came on to her and refused to take no for an answer. On more than one occasion, I’ve questioned whether any of these men exist.
To her, life is a game of chess, where every move is calculated. She might be able to conjure up a few tears for sympathy, but she won’t feel remorse over her actions. She’s just not capable of it.
“But he was so sweet. I could barely get out of bed and face the day, yet he was there, holding my hand through it all.”
It appears we’ve moved on to the miscarriage she suffered right after she and Jackie got married.Also false.
There has been one instance in the past six months when I felt she was being candid with me. The rest have been rehashing a fairy tale that likely exists only in her head.
In that session, she admitted that she faked the pregnancy in a desperate ploy to get him to commit. Once they were married, she staged a miscarriage. She spoke in a monotone, reciting the details as though they happened to someone else.
“It wasn’t easy, but I managed to wrestle the keys from him before helping him into the back seat. I thought I’d let him sleep it off—you know, sober up a bit before heading home to his wife because I’m a good friend.”
And we’re back to her best friend’s husband, David.
How is this woman fighting men off with a stick, yet I can’t get so much as a handshake after a lunch date? Even Dakota managed to find a manwho resembles her favorite comic book hero just by going to the gym.
I nod at the appropriate times while Carla waxes poetic about her latest conquest. Then, I take a deep breath and envision what I want my life to look like.
Spiritualists call it the law of attraction or manifestation, but it’s really nothing more than combining cognitive reframing techniques with creative visualization.
If I want to change the pattern of bad first dates, I have to envision exactly what I want and make myself feel as though I’ve already gotten it.
Positive thought. Positive emotion.
Like attracts like.
“I see,” I murmur, both to Carla and myself. My thought patterns dictate my experiences. Instead of fixating on what’s missing in my life and settling for less out of fear, I need to focus on attracting a man who is worthy of my time and energy. Next to the hearts and squigglies lining the page, I write:
Musts:
Clean-shaven
