The write-ups preceding mine contain valuable insight into the feminine mind. Please read them carefully before proceeding to the following. I would also like to thank two very special men for allowing me to add to this node. I truly could not have done this without them.
What started as a little fall of rain had become a brutal rushing torrent. Flash flood warnings were being transmitted over the radio. Drivers were urged to stay off the roads, a car can be swept away in as little as six inches of water, the broadcaster said. I’m one of those people who drives to escape. Some recent news had upset me, I was driving aimlessly that night. Trekking through the rain slick streets without purpose or goal. The car in front of me swerved. I jerked my steering wheel to the side and crashed into a fire hydrant.
I was still in shock when I got out of my car to inspect the damages. My car is my baby and it was going to take a damn good body man to put the pieces back together again. Another unpleasant surprise was waiting for me inside the car. My cell phone was gone. I looked everywhere, not caring that the rain was soaking through my clothes. Without a phone I couldn’t call for a ride. No one knew where I was. I wasn’t even sure myself. After minutes of fruitless searching I remembered that my cell phone had been in my hand when I had first gone outside to see what I had crashed into.
I wondered how far my cell phone had traveled after it slid off the hood of my car. Emotions assailed me. I was soaking wet and crying. Pain traveled down my arm. I rubbed my aching forehead in dismay. I needed to get back in the car where it was warm and dry. The handle of the door wouldn’t budge when I tried it. My keys were now locked safely inside my damaged vehicle. I started crying even harder. It was a couple blocks to the nearest sign of civilization which was a small apartment complex surrounding a swollen man-made pond. I walked up to the door and started pushing buttons at random. Hopefully someone would buzz me in.
Luck was with me that night. The buzzer rang. I let myself in and knocked on the first door I came to. From the length of time it took the guy inside to answer it you would have thought he had some enormous distance to travel but his apartment was on the small side. The tantalizing aroma of pizza swirled around me. An intimidating textbook sat out on the coffee table. There’s something about people who are intellectually drop dead gorgeous that I really go for and this guy was so hot I wanted to rip off his logic and make wild passionate sense with him. I knew he would never believe the truth, I didn't want to tell him I had just crashed my car so I made up some wild tale about my boyfriend’s dad’s cousin's boss wanting to destroy the world. What I wanted that night was a superhero. Someone who would pick me up and sweep me off my feet. I wanted someone who was eager to share late night pizza while discussing complex economic strategies with me.
Unfortunately this guy didn’t seem to get that. He told me his name was Anthony and literally propelled me out the door. I was halfway down the hall when he asked what my name was. Janine was the first name that popped into my head so that’s what I told him. His smart-ass comment about only saving the world on Tuesdays echoed through my mind as I knocked on the door at the opposite end of the hall. You don’t expect anyone to answer the door with a Hugh Hefner kimono and a blatant crotch shot but there he was. Live and in the flesh so to speak. The moment was especially uncomfortable because I recognized him as one of my friend’s friends. I cleared my throat awkwardly. He must have been just as embarrassed as I was because he wouldn’t look me in the eye.
My whole body was aching from the accident. I knew I was going to start crying again. My friend’s friend pulled me close, gave me a hug and told me he didn’t have any condoms. The non-sequitur was just what I needed to make the night complete. I stepped back from the embrace, the word condoms had given me an idea. I had been at a bachelorette party a while back. My girlfriend had handed out condoms as party favors and I had stuffed the rest of her stash in my purse at the end of the night. I handed my friend’s friend a fistful of Jimmy hats and waved goodbye. My plan was to get out of this crazy apartment building and find someone who could help. I was on my way out of the building when another door opened. A woman held her apartment door open while a man walked out. He walked past me without even looking at me but the woman in the doorway asked if I needed help.
I burst into tears right in the middle of the hallway. The woman invited me in. She asked what had happened and it wasn’t until then that I found out I had dried blood stuck to the side of my face. It turned out the woman was studying to be a nurse. She knew both of the guys who lived upstairs. They were nice guys but they had problems of their own that kept them from noticing the problems of others. We talked about men in general as she dabbed antiseptic on my forehead. She recommended that I take a long hot shower. She turned the faucet on and left to put a snack together. Clouds of steam filled the room. At some point in time my new friend snuck into the bathroom. She dropped off a cute little nightie for me to wear. That didn't fit so I borrowed some scrubs from her. We sat up talking for a while. She offered to rub my back, saying it would ease the pain. I must have been exhausted because I fell asleep on the clean sheets she had spread out on the floor.
I woke to the smell of breakfast. My bloody clothing had been washed, dried, and carefully folded. There were fresh towels in the bathroom I had used last night. The cut over my eye was still neatly bandaged. My gracious hostess let me use her phone to call a tow-truck. She called work for me and told them I wouldn’t be in that day. Once she was sure I had food, blankets, water and a best-selling blockbuster movie she left for class. I locked her apartment on my way out. A copy of her address sat in front of me as I spoke to the florist. I had just finished ordering a basket of seasonal fresh flowers when the phone rang. It was the woman calling to see how I was. I asked how her Microbiology test had gone. She started crying and told me that because of my help quizzing her she had aced it. Her instructor had asked her to stay after class. She had been offered a position as a lab assistant and the teacher had been so impressed with one of her essays that he printed off a copy to show the rest of the class how responses to questions should be written.
When I went to the mailbox I found a card from my new friend. She had written to thank me for finishing the laundry and organizing all of her closets. I picked up the phone to thank her for thinking of me and for remembering my birthday. She asked about my car. I told her the damage was worse in the rain than it was in broad daylight. We must have talked for over an hour that night. Now the two of us are good friends. We’ve tried to help the guys upstairs get into a studying routine. One of the men has a friend who’s a bad influence. The other guy has started making origami cranes for others. Sometimes all four of us get together and hang out. On Tuesdays the guys occasionally get calls for help saving the world but those are relatively rare.
Moral of the story: if you need help on Tuesday call a man. For help on Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday or Monday, try a woman instead.