Chris is a good partner for me, sometimes. Sometimes I want to kick his ass and sometimes I want to bolt. He is as insane as I am. We believe each other’s bullshit and we know lie to each other and ourselves. We are metropolitan, cosmopolitan hermits. He’s the bad cop and I’m the good cop. I’m the one who gets into trouble; he’s the one who has to pick up the pieces or just yells at me. Chris loves to yell at me and criticize me. I am his only friend. I am the only one who knows that Chris has a world that he goes to inside his head and he can live there for hours on end; an entire alter universe. This does not bother me or frighten me. Chris likes to think that he is frightening, that the inside of his head is a scary place and that he is a dangerous person in his head. Chris’s biggest danger is to himself. Conspiracy theories abound daily. The government is telling us lies, the government controls the media, the climate is changing faster than “they” are telling us, the earth’s magnetism has changed and is affecting everything on the planet but no one is telling “us”, there is a mass plague coming and no one is telling the public, and more. It’s always bad news.
How is this good partner for me? I’m a fucking ray of sunshine. I wake up cheerful. I picked Chris for what I was missing in my life at the time in 1997. I was separated from my husband and waiting for my divorce to be finalized. I had known Chris for ten years. We worked for the same company – The Mendik Company. He was the Chief Financial Officer and I worked for the Chairman and owner – Bernie Mendik. Chris was in charge of the support staff in the office and from time to time he would try to tell me what rules to follow. I worked in the corner Executive Suite. Excuse me, Mr. Christopher Bonk, but I don’t work for you, I work for the Chairman. If you have something to say to me, say it to my boss. That pissed off Chris. Chris said, sure, I’m coming in to talk to him right now. I went into to see Mr. Mendik. “Chris needs to talk to you”; Mendik asks me about what, I tell him that Chris wants me to follow his rules and I won’t comply. Mendik makes a face and says tell him to come in. Now, as an aside, let me tell you that Mendik and I had a bond. I worked for him for 10 years. So many people, I found out later, thought Mendik and I were having an affair because we were so close, because I was untouchable, because he confided in me, because he smiled and joked with me, because I lasted longer than any other assistant ever had. Chris was treading on thin ice. He went in to see Mendik and started his complaint. “I’m trying to run an office and Kathleen isn’t following some of the rules and it’s causing a problem for me with my staff because they think if Kathleen doesn’t have to follow the rules why should they”. I say nothing, just stand there, waiting. Mendik says, “Kathleen is not part of your staff. She works for me. Leave her alone. You should know better than to mess with her.” With that, Chris leaves Mendik’s office and I walk out behind. Steam coming off of Chris’s head. Chris goes back upstairs – one floor up – directly above us. Next thing, Mendik and I hear banging. Mendik asks me, “What’s that banging”. I answer, “It’s Chris, and he’s picking up his desk and dropping it on the floor because he’s mad”. Mendik and I just smile at each other. And so, begins a life of sparring with Chris.
Despite our arguments, Chris and I were often the only ones in the office at 10pm at night finishing up a day’s work when the phone was finally quiet. He would come down to the executive floor to raid the refrigerator in the kitchen or see who was around. He’d stop by and say hello and we’d chat. I liked his “out of the box” way of thinking. He was clearly an anomaly and I enjoyed that. If he wasn’t trying to tell me what to do, we got along great – which is still true today. Years later, when Chris found out that I was living in New York and separated he asked me if I wanted to go running with him sometime in the city. Now I used to be a runner in high school and a huddle jumper but since then I cannot run. No endurance. But I was lonely, and when my soon-to-be ex Eric took the boys on the weekends I was terribly lonely. Chris was also separated and living in the city, so one Saturday I said yes, I’ll run with you early one morning. And that’s how it started. Just running. I’d run one New York City block and then have to walk. We started running 3-4 times a week before work; from my Greenwich Village apartment down to the World Trade Center and back, to the East Village, to Washington Square and exercise on the kid’s jungle gym there. Chris would start getting fresh and push me in the bushes when we ran. He was very sexy in his nearly naked gym wear. 1997 – The year of my divorce – the year I started dating Chris.
Now let me say, if you don’t already know, I’m not your average girl. I’m an unconventional conventionalist. I like what I like. Maybe I have too much testosterone but believe me, I’m all female. So why did I pick Chris to stay with? Two reasons – a 10 inch dick and genius. These are very practical reasons. I need someone to talk to, to have an intelligent conversation with, to have a sparring conversation with, to debate with and to have great sex with. Finally, someone who really, really likes sex and really, really likes women. Well, Chris liked women too much – that piece of shit. So when he asked me to marry him (which he did for 6 years before I said yes), the mercenary motherfucker asked for a prenup. Now, I didn’t get into this relationship for his money and initially it pissed me off but what the fuck, so what. Sure I said, I’ll sign a prenup. Your money is your money. Your holy fucking money. I only want one provision in MY prenup – every time you cheat – cheating meaning kissing, fondling, oral sex or sex of any kind with anyone costs Chris $250,000.00 each time he does it even if it is with the same person. Chris was blown away. Really? Really? Do you think you need that? Yup! You cheating motherfucker. I was about to become Chris’s third wife. Chris has two brothers; they are each with their 3rd wives. Chris was known for being a womanizer which I did not mind at all but you can’t have me and someone else.
It delighted me to remind Chris that he is still not as smart as me. I asked him recently, so what do you think I’d do if I caught you with another woman? Hmm, he said, beat the hell out me, her, throw me out, throw out all my clothes, empty the checking account? What?! Geez, silly boy. Click, click – photo! Cha-ching! $250K Keep her asshole. And the $250K is just to start. We are past that now. Now, I tell him he can explore another side. Chris is a metrosexual. I told him, if you want to see what it is like to be with a man in this lifetime, then you should. He is not opposed to the idea other than the fact that he, he says, he cannot stand the scent of a man. He’s not opposed to the idea of sex with a man. I think he should explore this. Geez. You live once. I don’t think he will. Chris is chronically at the precipice not jumping in.