Chapter 1 - The Disease
I have a disease.
It eats at my soul from dawn to dusk and there is no cure that I can attain with my own hands.
The incurable disease called 'compulsive fear of relationships with women syndrome' has nothing to do with a lack of desire of a relationship or a lack of interest in women. It is the cowardice of the soul brought on by the scars of the past. A relationship is both the cure I desire and the poison I avoid.
It isn't coupled with a bizarre physiological phenomenon like a rash of hives from physical contact or anything like that.
I can leave the house and I can interact with women, but the moment there is a possibility of a relationship forming, the synapses in my brain switch to autopilot and I do something or say something to make the relationship impossible or undesirable from her point of view.
If I ever have success using words long enough to go on a first date, I somehow talk about how horribly awful my life is or I don't offer to pay for the meal or I stare at her minor imperfections.
“mole...” was all my brain could tell my mouth to say as my eyes were glued to the small growth on her neck.
“I'm leaving.”
“But, uh... wait....”
I stammered phrases as my brain rebooted from a blue screen crash, but it was too late. The mole was kinda cute even...
Once again, I struck out before the game even started. Now I'm going to be depressed for another two weeks and have no courage to chat with women for four weeks after that. That is the typical timeline for these things. I'm really beginning to hate subjecting myself to the torture of online dating despite it having relative amounts of actual success over offline dating (slightly greater than zero percent and almost less than zero percent respectively).
'Curse this foul disease!' I thought while trying to wring it out of my head with my hands.
My plans for the rest of the day automatically included a gallon of ice cream and feeling sorry for myself.
I showed myself back at the house with the ice cream in hand, but I hadn't expected my mom to see me in my sad state... again.
She meant well, but it never made me feel better when she offered advice or tried to help otherwise. The blind date that she had set up ended in disaster as well, and only succeeded in making me feel like a horrible person. You tend to feel like a horrible person when your brain makes 'horribly dirty things' the topic of your first conversation with the daughter of a respected family friend.
“Oh, honey... what happened?”
She knew exactly what happened. The ice cream has shown up with me almost every month for the past year and every month that I came home with it, she asked the same thing. It was becoming an irritating ritual. My siblings were living happy lives with their own lovers and somewhat successful lives, and I was always going on dates with gallon sized dairy treats. She just didn't understand why I was falling short.
'Why can't you let me sulk without asking me questions with obvious answers?' I wanted to ask, but instead I said nothing and locked myself in my room.
I fell asleep that night with the empty tub of ice cream in my lap and I started to dream.
“Hey you!”
I looked all around me. Some woman was yelling at me, but I couldn't see her. All I could see was a vast empty white room.
“Just listen, alright!?”
“O...okay...” I managed to say despite the intense pressure of her booming voice.
“You are such a failure! I can't believe that anyone could ever depend on you! I certainly wouldn't expect much from such a ridiculously depressed and pathetic man, but if you want to change that I have a mission for you. Do you want to change?”
Suddenly having my own depressing feelings dumped on me by this loud woman, I felt tears start to well up in my eyes. Her accusations were entirely true and I felt that I would do anything to get rid of this condition which brought me so low.
“Yes, I'll do anything! Please help me cure this disease!”
“Disease? I see you can't even take the blame yourself for the piece of garbage you've become! I ought to just leave you to figure out your destiny on your own!”
“No, wait! … I can't take it anymore! I completely agree with you that I'm a pathetic piece of garbage. Please help me to fix myself!”
“Oh, so you at least know your faults. I'll give you a chance, but it involves doing something you have never considered. You will be transported to another world and live the life of another. When you succeed at your assignment, you will be given the choice to return. Do you find this acceptable?”
What a strange dream, I thought to myself. I had never had a dream that felt so real before and the violent booming voice of the disembodied woman was even shaking me to the core. Perhaps I should have stayed away from the chocolate peanut-butter banana ice cream and gone with vanilla instead? Either way, I wanted to take advantage of this dream that might hopefully reveal the cure to my sickness.
“I will accept whatever task it is!”
“Good. Now wake up... up... up...” her voice echoed.
