Dating Without Novocaine. Lisa Cach
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a good projective test for people’s psyches. You saw in the pictures what your personality allowed you to see, and nothing more.
Me, I chose to believe the cards only when they told me what I wanted to hear.
Cassie went through the aspects of the past that had brought me to the present situation, and then the “forces beyond my control.” Among them was a card with an angel standing with one foot on the ground, one in the water.
“Temperance,” Cassie said. “Sometimes this means that your angel is near, helping to guide you.”
“She is?”
Cassie shrugged. “You would know better than I. The interpretation of the cards is more for you to figure out than me.”
“Do you believe in guardian angels?” I asked, curious. I didn’t, but why then did I always get teary-eyed when I watched Touched by an Angel on Sunday nights? That I liked that show was one of my most closely guarded secrets.
“Sometimes I can feel my grandmother watching over me,” Cassie said.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. She talks to me in my dreams, too.”
“Huh.” I didn’t know quite what to say to that. I turned to the psychological expert. “What do you think, Louise?”
She shrugged. “If it is comforting and does no harm, there’s no reason a person cannot believe what they wish.”
“I thought counselors referred to that type of thinking as delusional,” I said.
“In psychology, we say that no personality trait or behavior is a problem unless it causes problems for the client.”
I chewed that over for a minute. “I guess that makes sense.”
“Then again, some people are just plain nuts.”
“That’s very helpful, Ms. Counselor.” I turned my attention back to the cards.
“These here represent the natural course of future events,” Cassie said. “There is friendship and merriment, and learning to feel your emotions. Next are scattered energies, struggles. And here, the final card, the Ace of Swords. Change. Major change.”
The Ace of Swords was a picture of a fist holding up a silvery-blue blade, with a crown and greenery circling the tip. “What type of change?”
“Could be good or bad. It’s a card of new force, new energy, new direction. It’s something dramatic, either positive or negative, and could be either love or hatred.”
“But which is it?”
Cassie just looked at me, letting me flail about, looking for my own interpretation.
“Well, what are these other cards, then?” I asked impatiently, pointing to the three in the upper left-hand corner of the layout.
“Those represent other possible futures.” She described the first two, then stopped at the third and gave me a meaningful look. “The Magician. He brings messages from the realms of the gods, often in the form of synchronicity. Watch for coincidences in your life, for there will be valuable information hidden therein.”
“I don’t know what any of that means,” I said. “None of it sounds like a possible future.” I was still feeling disgruntled about that Ace of Swords, and disinclined to give a generous interpretation to the cards. Hatred or love, change for the positive or change for the negative—huh! Very helpful, thanks so much!
“It is for you to decide what they mean,” she said.
I continued to study the cards, unhappy that some of them seemed to fit my situation so well, while others did not. I wanted it all to be garbage, or all to be true. I don’t enjoy ambiguity.
She let me stare at the cards a little longer, then scooped them up and put them back in the deck, wrapping the deck in a blue silk scarf. “You can make of it what you will,” she said, “but at least look for synchronicities in your life. Whenever I get The Magician, strange things seem to happen, and I usually learn something from them.”
“What types of strange things?”
“Oh, like maybe I’ve chosen five books at random from the fiction shelves at the library, and when I take them home and read them I discover that they all have a villain who looks and acts like Teddy Roosevelt.”
“What on earth could you possibly learn from that?”
“It’s like the cards. You can find the parallel in your own life, if you look for it. Maybe I’m dating a guy who reminds me of Teddy Roosevelt in some way, and the synchronicity is telling me that he is bad for me, that he’s a villain. I don’t know. It depends.”
“Cassie, sometimes you’re a very weird chick, you know that?”
“Am I?” she asked, sounding pleased.
“Definitely.”
Louise got up and went to the refrigerator, returning with a two-liter bottle of Diet Pepsi. She refilled our glasses. “Have you outlined a plan of attack for finding Mr. One-in-a-Million?” she asked, capping the bottle and setting it on the coffee table, then sinking cross-legged onto the carpet.
“Somewhat.” I told her about the events I’d found in the papers, and asked if she’d want to go to the free concert in Pioneer Courthouse Square.
“Jazz? I don’t know,” Louise said. “Maybe Cass will go with you.”
“No way,” Cassie said. “Guys who like jazz take themselves way too seriously.”
“Or you might be able to get Scott to go,” Louise said.
“What would be the point of going to a concert to meet guys, if I’m with a guy already? No one would approach me.”
“Oh. That’s right.”
“Maybe I’ll just do the gorge hike. Even if I did find a single guy at the jazz concert, he’d probably make me a tape of his favorite music, and then be all disappointed when I didn’t like it.”
“They’re so cute when they try to share,” Cassie said.
“I was also thinking of trying Internet dating. It seems like an efficient way to look for what you want. Sort of like shopping.”
Louise made a face. “Are you sure about that? It’s kind of dangerous, isn’t it?”
“I shouldn’t think it was any more so than meeting someone at a dance club.”
“But people can lie when they’re hidden behind their computers,” Louise said.
“They can lie in real life, too. I’ve looked at a couple of the sites, and they seem pretty safe. You get a code name, and they give you a mailbox on the site, so no one has your real e-mail address.”
“I don’t know, Hannah, you hear all sorts of stories…”
“You hear good stories, too.” I lowered my voice to a confidential, persuasive level. “Aren’t you even a little bit curious about it? There might be a college professor or an artist on there right now, just the type you’re looking for.”
“You don’t want me to try it, do you?” she asked.
“Why not? We all could, you, me, Cassie and Scott. You’d do it, wouldn’t you, Cassie?”
“Yeah, sure, for a lark. Why not? I see plenty that goes on at the pub, and I wouldn’t mind having a computer screen between me and some of the snakes out there while I’m looking for a date.”
“Some of the sites are free,” I continued, “and others give you a trial membership. Think of how many ‘possibles’ we could sort through, from the comfort of our own homes! And if they’re all weirdos, we don’t have to meet any of them in person.”
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