CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

PAST

There is no doubt being rich is better than being poor - none what so ever. BUT, it genuinely is nowhere near as good as people think it is. There are some really soul-destroying aspects to being rich that really eat away at you over the years, I’m sure these are the same the world over, but in Bulgaria they are amplified ten-fold.

The one that was most corrosive to me was the fact that rich people do not have friends. They have parasites!

Now the really sad thing is that even the people that were your friends before you became rich - turn into parasites when you become rich. I’m not even blaming them - money changes people. Studies have shown that just working with money - not even your own money - say at a bank or at the federal reserve, changes people. They become less empathic, more selfish and see things more in terms of black and white - tilted in their favor. In other words, having money put frankly, makes you a jerk.

How do you know that you don’t have friend when you’re rich? That’s easy, simply see who sticks around when you lose everything!

However, there are also unexpected upsides - you know the scene in Pretty Women when she goes to buy clothes and they won’t serve her because she looks too poor? And then the very next she walks back with $100k of outfits and says “Mistake - BIG mistake”. You get to do that when you’re treated like crap by shop owners and staff!

One of my watches needed a new strap and, as it was an expensive watch, I wanted a quality strap. I knew the only place in the city that dealt in quality watches was called Ingenbarov, which was the name of the owner. I checked what time they closed on their website - 7.00 p.m. It was 4.30 p.m. - I could make it easily, but I’d have to walk. It was right in the middle of the pedestrianized area of the city and there was no point getting a taxi. The only problem was that it was 45ºC outside - 113ºF. HOT - there was no doubt in my mind that it was going to be an uncomfortable walk for Angel and I.

In fact - it was worse than that, it was one of those days when it was too hot to be in the sun at all. The sun maliciously burned any naked skin exposed on your body - and the street was orientated east/west so there was no shade to walk in. By the time we got to the shop we looked like two animals that had been left out in the rain, we were dripping wet with sweat and gulping water as if we’d just crossed the Sahara.

As we walked up the owner, Mr Ingenbarov - was literally locking the door. It was only 5.00pm.

“Excuse me sir,” he turned around as I spoke. His eyes took us in from the soaking wet hair, Angels was sticking to her cheeks, the casual attire we had on and a grimace formed on his face as if he had just visually hurt himself by the ordeal.

“I’m sorry to bother you but how long before your back?”

He looked at me as if I was speaking a different language, and technically I was but since he was bilingual that was irrelevant. He frowned in disdain at my inquisitiveness.

“I’m not going to be back,” he said as he pulled the key out of the lock.

“But the website said you don’t close until 7:00,” I said dumbfounded. He huffed in response and said nothing.

“Would you be kind enough to attend us before you leave?” You would think I had asked for blood – a look of disgust and impatience was written all over his face.

“NO,” he practically shouted. It was surprising how quiet Angel was, she seemed to be watching our interaction as if watching with great interest and as if she were watching a ping pong game, her face went back and forth between the both of us.

I pulled out my phone and showed him his own website.

“Look,” I pointed. “It clearly says you would be open until 7:00, that’s why we came now and not later.” I explained.

“Screw the website,” he said rudely.

“But,” I protested.

“It’s MY shop,” he said cutting me off mid-sentence, “I’M the owner, I’ll close whenever I want do you hear me?”

“But I need something, now what do I do?” I felt like a kid groveling, begging I swear my lower lip almost trembled, okay not so much from fighting back tears but definitely from fighting back my anger.

“I’ll tell you what you can do,” his lip curled into a sly smile yet his voice had changed, gone soft and I truly believed he’d had a change of heart. I was just about to show him my watch and what it was I was looking for when the abruptness of his voice hit me like a smack in the face. “You can get the hell out of here and SCREW OFF!”

I was angry, and it took all I had in me to not react but I left, I did just as he said – I screwed off.

The next day I went to the bank and drew out $50,000 in cash - 88,000 лв or 15 years’ salary for an average person in Bulgaria and the two of us went back to the shop, Angel accompanied me with almost maniacal glee in her eyes.

This time we hadn’t walked so we were freshly showered and dressed to impress. I made sure he saw us get out of the Mercedes that I parked directly in front of his shop.

From the time I closed Angel’s door for her and held open the one to his shop, he was on us like white on rice.

“Good day,” he said in Bulgarian

When his eyes saw ran over us, I could almost see his heart beating slightly faster, and he reeked of greed, a stench I had grown accustomed to.

“I’d like to buy two watches, one for me and one for my girlfriend,” I gestured to Angel who flashed her irresistible smile. His eyes lingered on her, starting with her face, noticing the perfect hair, the ultra-white teeth that were being exposed by the red powdered lipstick that was her signature look. They then traveled down her body, stopping briefly at the exposed cleavage and continuing down her long legs.

Now this was something that would never take place in the U.S. The guy would have been labeled a creep or if he gazed like that at an employee, he would’ve been hit with a sexual harassment lawsuit. But here in Bulgaria, not taking a moment to appreciate the beauty of a woman outwardly, as opposed to trying to sneak glimpses, was an insult. It was considered an insult if his face did not reflect the sheer awe he felt at her sight. I waited patiently for him to finish.

“Oh yes, of course,” he said in perfect English. “Did you have a budget in mind?” He began rubbing his hands together, much the way people do in the UK when they are cold and warming their hands up; or maybe the way a child does when they can’t contain their excitement of a gift they were about to get. The point is, he was standing there before me, with this warm smile and interest in us, not realizing we were the same rat looking people that had showed up on his doorstep only one day prior.

“Yes, actually I do have a budget,” I gestured for Angel to show him her bag. She opened it and dangled it before him, it was full of 5 bricks of money – the bills were brand new 100 лв notes all in the yellow bands from the bank that indicated 10,000 лв. “This is my absolute maximum budget.”

I let him salivate over the brick, this was more than enough to buy the two most expensive watches in the shop. As he picked up the brick his hand was shaking. He pulled it close to his face and fanned through the notes to make sure it was not a trick, he even looked as if he were trying to smell the money as if it’s odor had anything to do with its value. He stood there flipping through the money once again as if it were one end of a deck of cards, he seemed to caress the brick of money so long that it began to feel awkward.

Angel held out her purse for him to replace the money in, and he was physically having a hard time putting the now beloved brick of money back in her bag.

“Well, if you would like to come this way,” he gestured toward the back of the shop where he no doubt hid his most expensive pieces. “would you like a coffee or a gall of wine? And anything for you dear lady?” He said in a falsetto tone of voice, as if he were forcing his words to sound excessively accommodating.

Angel flashed another smile and placed a hand seductively on his arm.

“I would love it so much if I had some wine,” her words, her tone so sweet it sounded like a song. The delight that this man was feeling could not be hidden, could not be contained. His hands shook as he pulled the wine out of the refrigerator in the back and he placed the wine glass on the counter for her to take. She reached for it slowly, gently raising the stem of the glass all the while having her eyes locked so intently on the guy that he couldn’t look away if he tried. The soft pu of her lips parting was the only sound to be heard, that and the beating of his heart which was not only increased in speed but someone seemed louder, if that was possible. She placed the glass down slowly, pinching the glass gently before letting it go.

His enjoyment was shattered by my voice penetrating the silence.

“Actually,” I said calmly, putting a finger to my lip as if I had just remembered something. “I think it’s probably better if we just go.” Angel slid her arm through mine and gave the shop owner a sad face.

“But why?” he stammered desperately. “I haven’t even shown you my best watches yet.” He gestured us to follow him and actually disappeared briefly in the back before realizing we were not following him and he came back out. Who knows maybe he went in there for a second to pray he made the sale, regardless we hadn’t budged an inch.

“You see,” we turned and began walking toward the door. He skirted around us blocking the exit and I wondered if this wasn’t going to end badly.

“Please don’t go,” he begged and I think he was about to cry.

“We have to, I just remembered some advice about buying watches that someone gave me just yesterday.” I looked down at Angel and she gave me her pouting face, squeezed my arm and then locked eyes on the shop owner.

“Oh, really sir? What was the advice?” He said with great interest.

“Actually - it was YOU who gave me the advice!” I paused and let my words sink in but he still looked puzzled.

“Did I? What advice did I give you?” he asked with his face scrunched up in disbelief.

“You told me to leave and then shouted SCREW OFF!”

Realization dawned on his face, quickly followed by a complex expression - the expression of a man trying to work out very quickly if he can save an 88,000 лв sale to a guy he told to screw off. This expression is an incredibly enjoyable one – and I said nothing so that I could enjoy it as long as possible. It’s not a static expression, as the thoughts and emotions pass through the person, the face squirms and contorts in a most pleasing way. Its highly recommended as entertainment.

“Errrrr - But I, eeerrrrr didn’t mean..”

I cut him off

“No – that’s the advice you gave me, its good advice and I shall take your advice and er - SCREW OFF,” I shouted. As I turned to walk out Angel finished off the torture by treating him to another of her looks that imply - Oh - WHAT a pity - and we exited the shop.

On the way back, I felt mixed emotions - YES, I felt happy that I’d made him suffer a little for his totally unnecessary obnoxious behavior the day before; but it was mixed with guilt. It was childish, if not a little sad, to have acted in that way and it was nowhere near as rewarding as I’d hoped it would be.

Angel had NO such qualms or mixed emotions - the infliction of this torture on the guy was as close to sheer bliss as I think I’d ever seen for her. She was hyped up as if on speed the whole way over home, she wouldn’t stop repeating the same questions over and over as if it were a chant or a prayer to be repeated.

“Did you see the way his eyes almost popped out of his head when I opened my bag?”

“Did you see how he held the money?”

“Did you see the destroyed look on his face when he realized who we were?”

“Did you how desperate and yet shattered he looked when he saw us leaving?”

“Did you see the look on his face when he realized he was the one that screwed up?”

The same five questions were asked over and over until we got home. It was as if by

asking the questions, she was reliving the experience again and again in her mind.

“Did you see……. Did you see…….. Did you see…………..” On and on and on and honestly most of it I did not see. I was paying back the jerk’s behavior with my jerk behavior and that was as far as it went with me - and I felt like a jerk for doing it.

Unlike Angel, I didn’t savor every single detail of every second and I certainly didn’t need to re live it over and over again and I sure as hell didn’t get anything like the pleasure Angel did from doing so - in fact it made me feel like more of a jerk every time she mentioned another aspect of the guys suffering. I half wanted go back and buy a watch out of guilt!!

As my mind continued to condemn me for my actions I glanced over at Angel in the car. She was completely oblivious to what I was feeling, to my lack of excitement, to my guilt. She was in her own little world and it was as if she was on drugs, she was that high and excited.

What does this mean? What kind of person could possible exhibit such a sheer amount of joy from emotionally torturing another human being? What kind of person basks in the glory of dishonoring someone? How do you feel joy at the sight of another person’s misery?

By the time we went out to dinner and got home that evening it was almost 11:00p.m. But Angel was still wired, this high that she had experienced was allowing her to experience a very long and slow coming down. She practically ran into the bathroom, tossing clothes off at each place she passed, so that only her heels were left outside the bathroom door.

“What are you in a hurry for?” I asked as I walked behind her picking up everything she had tossed off her body.

“Don’t forget where we are going tonight,” she said behind the closed door. My mind drew a blank.

“Take me to the pharmacy, let’s go to the pharmacy you promised you would introduce me.”

I hadn’t gone for the medicine last night and since Angel had said nothing I had been hoping she had forgotten this insane desire to meet this guy.

Two hours later I was reluctantly walking with her in the cool evening air to the pharmacy. The weather was just warm enough for shorts and a T Shirt that you regretted every time you reached an intersection and the stiff breeze cut across your path. While I was a little underdressed for the 2:.00 a.m. journey, Angel was, if anything, a little over dressed. She had a pale green three quarter length coat on that was filled with the down of a rare Pyrenean duck that had been unfortunate enough in its evolution to bread slowly and have the warmest down of any duck. Ensuring it rarity and heavy regulated ‘harvesting’. Harvesting was the euphemistic term used on the descriptive label, the marketing department presumably having decided against ‘killing’ or ‘murdering’. The fashionably large hood was trimmed with Arctic Fox fur that was also presumably ‘harvested’. My very liberal views on the immorality of using fluffy animals as insulation had been given a brutal dose of reality a decade previous on a working trip to Prague in winter. It was 25 below zero Fahrenheit and a 40-mph wind gave a wind chill of 75 below zero. My brand new $500 Gore-Tex coat was as much use as a string vest. I soon realized, in Eastern Europe, in winter, you wear the remains of dead animals or you become one.

Arriving at the pharmacy’s little green framed window I pressed the doorbell button and the pharmacist arrived promptly. He already had a smile fixed in place and I guessed there must be hidden CCTV and he had seen us arrive on. We shook hands awkwardly through the small window and I introduced Angel in her pending mat red lip stick. She bent down to the window and shook his hand. He nearly fainted.

Regaining his composure instantly he went on to compliment her graciously and seemed perfectly at ease in her presence, again I was reminded how shallow girls could be. The guy had no negative issues apart from his slightly dork like appearance. Angel span him around her little finger like she did all men and I allowed it to go on for a minute of two before asking about the L Arginine.

“Oh yes, it has arrived,” he said brightly and shot off to get it with an ‘excuse me’ to Angel.

Angel turned her attention from the little window to me.

“I’m so hot,” she proclaimed.

I was just about to start the “well you’re going to be hot wearing that coat” speech when she unzipped the coat down to the level of the belt around its waist. As it fell open it revealed two bulging olive-skinned breasts atop her black Basque, her hands went to the belt and I knew she intended to undo it and treat the guy to a full view of her in sex outfit.

“NO!” I screamed as quietly as I could “you’ll give the poor guy a heart attack,” which was untrue but I didn't have time to explain my assumption of his feelings for her.

Staring straight at my eyes, her hands worked on her belt, undoing it with exasperated slowness, teasing me both sexually and confrontationally.

“Angel!” I begged, “It’s not fair on the poor guy, he hasn't got a girlfriend AND he has a full nightshift to work.”

“I know,” she said sadistically, “that’s why it’s so much fun!”

“NO! It’s NOT FUN, its cruel, it might be fun for you but think of that poor guy, you’re just teasing him - torturing him.”

I moved in front of the little window so he would not be able to see her but she was clever and quick thinking. She looked around for the CCTV camera and spotted a red dot in the gridded ceiling above us.

She’d already unbuckled the belt and was pulling down the zipper before I could intervene. The coat fell open and Angel assisted it by placing her hands on highly curved hips, she looked up at the red dot and curved her upper body backwards in an angle that gave a full view to the camera. She was, I noticed, wearing panties; at least that was something.

She flaunted her long stocking covered legs, placing one in front of the other. Her stockings accenting the bare flesh of her upper thigh that looked white in the neon light of the pharmacies facade.

Judging by both the time it took the pharmacist to return and the red flustered state in which he returned, he had been watching the spectacle on the CCTV. Glancing at the now less than composed pharmacist, Angel seemed to preen in self-admiration at her accomplishment while I stood there shaking my head.

It was undeniably exciting watching your uber sexy girlfriend act in a so brazenly sexual a manner, but the human in me could not let go of the thought that teasing, no torturing this guy for nothing more than your own kicks - was just wrong.

Once again as I began to feel a deep suspicion toward this person I was in love with. What kind of person gets thrilled and excited, turned on even by humiliating another person? What kind of person seeks to excite and deny a stranger? Could a person like that have a heart? Could they possess a conscience? If she could be like this with others, what could she be capable with me if things went sour between us?

Visions of my Mercedes with all four tires slashed flooded my mind, my apartment being emptied when I was out, my dog becoming road kill. I couldn’t stop the flashes of alternate lives that my mind was conjuring up. Who was this person? Did I really know her? What was she capable of?

Suddenly her eyes were on me and it was as if she could read the bubble over my head. Her gaze penetrated past my facial expression and rummaged around my mind, discovering the doubts I was forming about her.

“Guess what?” she said seductively.

I was afraid to ask. In fact, I was silent the whole way home. Was there someone else she wanted to torture? Someone else she wanted to humiliate? Was there a list of people she wanted to destroy? Was I on that list?

I was honestly second guessing my relationship with her. I am not a saint, not even close, but there are certain lines that I do not cross. I do not think it’s right to manipulate people, treat them as if they are pawns in my own sick mental game of chess. I do not believe you should make it your goal to get thrills out of destroying others.

You see - today I’m an Empath - but I was not always an empath. I’m what they call a sociopath made good. Not that I was ever a full-fledged sociopath, but I definitely knew how to manipulate and control people. But I’m one that decided to STOP manipulating people for my own gain and own pleasure or even my own idleness - it’s often easier to manipulate someone into doing something than it is to do it yourself. However, when I was about 26 I set 3 simple rules that I live by every day of my life:

1)NEVER manipulate family and friends

2)ONLY lie when it is a business imperative

3)ALWAYS think about the effects your actions will have on the feelings of others before doing them

At first it was out of personal gain that I set these rules - I used to screw up my life as a result of the hurt that I caused in others and that was a negative on my meteoric rise to success. At first it was difficult to even THINK about how my actions might hurt others - I lacked the mental framework to DO that. But as time went by my sense of natural empathy grew and it became easier. Then it became normal and now, if anything, I’m overly empathic - I put the feelings of others BEFORE my own feelings.

In fact, I have tried to redress that balance and ironically THAT is not easy. But life as an Empath is a nicer one, a happier one and one that I am much prouder of.

So, to think of how hard I worked to undo those natural tendencies toward manipulation only to find myself in love with someone who viewed the emotions of others as her playground to stomp on, was very difficult to come to terms with. In essence it was as if all of the characteristics and traits – no doubt picked up from my upbringing - that I forced myself to shed in life had become Angels second skin.

She embodied everything I had chosen to remove from within me, and she was my girlfriend.

And yet somehow, she was worse. Angel always had to out do everyone and even at my best with manipulation, she took it to a level even I had never dared. You see sociopaths have a motive of gain for their actions, we don’t do it for pleasure or to make up for some lack of self-worth. We do it to GET something, if we can get it without hurting anyone – we will. The problem, though, is that if we HAVE to hurt someone – well, we still will but somehow the end always justifies the means to a sociopath.

We don’t gaslight or try to make people feel crazy, at least I never did. Gaslighting is a long-term strategy and my goals were way more short term than that. Angel didn’t appear to GET anything out of the manipulation that she employed on others – other than feeling powerful and unstoppable.

Angel hurt, punished and destroyed – for sport, just like a sports hunter.

Because so many people hunt only for sport, as opposed to hunting for food and survival, so many animals wind up enduring prolonged, painful deaths when they are injured but not killed by hunters. The hunters enjoyed the THRILL of hitting the target rather than making sure the shot killed the animal so as to use it for food.

A study of 80 radio-collared white-tailed deer found that of the 22 deer who had been shot with “traditional archery equipment,” 11 were wounded but were never recovered by hunters. Twenty percent of foxes who have been wounded by hunters are shot again. Just 10 percent manage to escape, but they wind up starving since they are incapable of taking care of themselves in their injured state.

Angel had the similar attitude that those hunters had. I can just imagine them saying to each other:

“Did you see how it jumped when I shot it in the leg?”

“Did you see how fast it dropped out of the sky?”

“Did you see how it was limping as it ran away falling every two seconds?”

“Did you see the blood splatter all over?”

“Did you see..” …..“Did you see..”….”Did you see..”

The joy of seeing the pain of another being was like adrenaline in her body. It was her emotional speed, a psychological thrill and to know she caused it made it become an addiction.

There’s another way that Angel can be compared to those that hunt for sport.

Hunting disrupts migration and hibernation patterns and basically destroys families. For animals like wolves, who mate for life and live in close-knit family units, hunting can devastate entire communities. The stress that hunted animals suffer—caused by fear and the inescapable loud noises and other commotion that hunters create—also severely compromises their normal eating habits, making it hard for them to store the fat and energy that they need in order to survive the winter.

Angel’s behavior destroys people’s lives as well.

As time was going by, I was losing more and more friends that did not want to become a part of the nonstop drama that was being created on a daily basis in my life. My own sister was not speaking to me because of my relationship with her and the nice atmosphere and friendly relationship that had existed at my business was completely gone. Her presence was becoming like gangrene that was spreading quickly, I had to put a stop to this.

It would break my heart, but I would tell her tonight that things were not going to work out between us.