I think, perhaps, that you will find this story hard to believe. Especially if you live in a nice normal town. If you are from South Orange County you will not question the validity of this story for a minute. It has been such a source of humor/horror for me as I have watched it unfold in real time … and I keep thinking "only in Orange County". But let's see … how best to begin?
Several months back The Torturer (my physical therapist and family friend of several years) put me at a workout table next to an unusual looking woman. I will call her Ms. Plastic. There was not much that was real about Ms. Plastic. Fairly nice body, dyed hair, very fake boobs, botoxed and collagened facelifted face … so much so that her face looked like some type of eerie mask. Caked on make-up … really, really, thick to the point that she looked kind of spooky. And freaky eyes. Freaky because she wears colored contacts that make her eyes look kind of iridescent. There are a lot of rich, plastic women living in these parts as I have mentioned before. They reek of money, both in appearance and attitude. This particular woman was one of the more extreme however.
I have become The Greeter at PT. I know just about everyone that goes there because, let's face it – I have been there nearly two years. I enjoy talking to the other patients and know many of them from the community before they even walk in the door. Simply put, I have tried to make the best of a bad situation and have become friendly with just about everyone who enters the place. I talked to Ms. Plastic a time or two. Just casually. We found out we knew a few of the same people and I discovered that she was sort of nice in an odd sort of way. Most people are nice if you get to know them. It doesn't necessarily mean you have a lot in common or want to be their best friend though. I found Ms. Plastic actually a little sad. Trying so hard … too hard. I don't mean this in a bitchy way because I really felt sorry for her … she seemed kind of pathetic. Throwing all that money around, dropping it into every conversation … and so much effort to be pretty in mid-life that she looked almost clown-like. Sad. I am not sure what men go for … but I don't think if I was a man it would be THAT. Despite the money.
Ms. Plastic hung around PT for a month or two, and then like all the other patients (except for me) she disappeared one day. I had noticed in the time that she was there that she was extremely flirtatious with The Torturer. I watched all this one-sided flirting going on with great amusement … I mean, he is called The Torturer for a reason. He seemed oblivious. Men are so dumb sometimes. Really. Anyway – it was something to amuse me while I put in my time there. And then she was gone.
Maybe six weeks passed by, and in that time I went through another surgery. One day immediately post-op I sat there in a very drugged up haze when Ms. Plastic came walking out from one of the back "private" rooms. Hmmmmmm. She seemed quite happy to be back. Ok, no one – and I mean no one would rather be THERE than out having a real life. She said hello and I asked her what brought her back and this time it was a new and different ailment, and again – not a very serious one. The next couple weeks I watched her light up like a high school girl every time The Torturer walked by. The flirting was almost embarrassing – meaning, I was embarrassed FOR her. The Torturer continued to be oblivious. (Sometimes he is so wrapped up in his own head that I don't think he can see what is right in front of him.) Anyway – again, I did not put much thought into all this but it was an amusing way to pass the time there … just kind of watching the whole deal.
A few weeks later Ms. Plastic had once again been discharged and was no longer around. Then one day The Torturer told me he was running late for an appointment and needed to get going. "Where are you off to?", I asked … being the nosy person I am. He answered, "Oh, Ms. Plastic has hired me to come to her house and be her Personal Trainer." I admit, I almost choked. If I had been drinking anything I would have spit it out all over the place. Personal Trainer? In the old days it used to be the pool boy … these days the rich women around here have their "personal trainers" come to their houses … for personal pleasure. The Torturer went on to explain to me, that no, of course, he is not a personal trainer. And of course, Ms. Plastic knew that. But she was offering him $100 an hour to come to her mansion three times a week and help her "work on her body". Since he is a physical therapist she told him he could "make sure she didn't hurt herself". He could use a few extra bucks; he thought it sounded like a great gig.
It was kind of like watching a train wreck. You don't want to watch and yet you are fascinated at the same time. I was so torn between trying to keep my mouth shut (which is very, very difficult for me!) and wanting to say, "WHAT are you THINKING?" I mean, The Torturer is a friend but also a very private person and this was clearly none of my business … but train wreck, train wreck, train wreck! Could he not see what she really wanted? Do you let a friend go head first into a train wreck or do you speak up? I tried to keep my mouth shut as much as possible. Which for me, means I kept my mouth shut for several days and then one day I blurted out, "If you have sex with Ms. Plastic I will lose all respect for you for all eternity!" I think I nearly killed The Torturer because when those words blurted out of my mouth he WAS drinking coffee and he nearly choked to death right in front of me. Seriously – I thought I killed him right then and there. Once he recovered he stated, "If I have sex with Ms. Plastic I will lose all respect for myself for all eternity." And right then I thought to myself, "This is not going to have a good ending because she is not going to get what she wants – and then what?"
Today The Torturer informed me he was fired by Ms. Plastic. I can't imagine why she fired him and he didn't share the reason. He didn't seem upset about it in the least though. I imagine she wasn't quite getting the results she expected … or something like that. In any case, I couldn't help thinking … only in Orange County!!