I can read minds and you all will probably say bullshit. Why not, I did. But it really sucked in the beginning. People are mean, and that's the filtered version that leaves their mouths. What they think is so much worse.
After being t-boned by a dump truck, I was put into a coma for two weeks while they tried to relieve the pressure on my brain. Fortunately, I do not remember the accident. All I can remember is driving to work one rainy morning and then waking up in a hospital, my leg in traction, having difficulty breathing and what sounded like a riot going on in my head.
It was difficult listening to the doctors with all the noise going on. I kept asking them if they could calm the noise down and they blamed it on the severe concussion I had incurred during the accident. It was quieter at night, a welcome reprieve from the torment I had to live through during the day. The hospital staff was finding it annoying that I kept asking them what they said because the answer was, they didn't say anything.
The first clue that I was blessed with this curse occurred with a night nurse. It was late, most other patients were sleeping and I could have sworn she said, "I am surprised they could find a catheter this small; they must have gotten it from the children's wing."
But her lips never moved.
So, I said, in a joking manner, "I am surprised you could find one so small, what did you do, raid the children's wing."
The look on her face was priceless. She turned cherry apple red and began muttering something.
The second clue came from a woman I had been dating for a couple of months when I had the accident. She was very compassionate during the first couple of weeks and that started to fade. Instead of compassion, her thoughts turned to hate, hating me for being in the hospital, hating herself for getting involved with such a loser and dreading the day when I got out and she would be seen with a cripple. Along with the nurse thinking my dick was small, it was just one more depressing event on top of a near fatal event.
It may have been mean of me, but on her next visit I said, "We should end this. I appreciate you coming to see me, but we were never that close to begin with. The doctors said they're doing surgery on the leg tomorrow and it is unlikely that I'll ever be able to walk without a cane. I don't want you to have to be seen with a cripple."
The look of shock on her face was priceless. She began crying, not because I was ending our relationship, but because she realized how shallow she was or something like that. There was so much going on in her head it was difficult to sort through it all.
The leg surgery was another body punch. The doctor came in while I was in recovery and gave me a rosy prognosis on how the surgery went. In his head he was thinking my leg and mostly my knee were a complete mess, and I was likely going to need a walker for the rest of my life.
I went back to work in a wheelchair for the first couple of weeks. Those were the most depressing weeks of my life. Most of the men were truly compassionate, thankful it was me and not them. But the women were horrible. One woman thought I was the biggest loser in the office before the accident and the gene pool would be better off if I just offed myself. None of the women thought anything nice about me. According to them, I had no taste in clothes, was already sporting a beer belly, smelled and couldn't carry on a conversation without looking at their tits.
My boss was even worse. He always had nice things to say about me during my performance evaluation but inside he thought I was the worst performer in the group, my problem-solving skills sucked, and he dreaded assigning me to anything complex. He hoped for a corporate downsizing so he could get rid of me.
Dealing with my best friend was very painful. We weren't going out drinking anymore but he would come over with some beer and we would watch a game. I was learning how to filter more and more of people's thoughts, but I learned how to "drop in" as I called it. I dropped in on my friend while watching the game and was devastated. He considered me a dweeb and the only reason he began hanging out with me was so if we trying to pick up girls, the prettier one would choose him. Now he was stuck sitting in my shitty apartment, watching a shitty TV when he could be out meeting girls.
Life sucked. It wasn't that the women in my world hated me, they despised me. I had broken up with my girlfriend and stopped taking my buddy's calls. The leg surgery left me in almost constant pain and all they would give me is Tylenol. Also, wheelchairs suck. It is almost impossible to get around without hurting somebody, because they are not looking down.
Knowing what people thought about me was a curse and I began contemplating suicide as a more horrific thought came to me: what if what they thought was reality and not some petty "I'm better that you" bullshit. What if I did smell and had no taste in clothes? Was I frequently looking at a woman's tits while talking to them? When was the last time I actually looked at a mirror before I went out?
My life before the accident wasn't paradise either. I knew I was never considered for any of the more worthwhile projects at work. My dating life sucked and I tended to date women who fucked instead of someone I really liked. My few friends outside of work were just excuses to get out of the shitty apartment I lived in. Even my car was a piece of shit.
Instead of suicide, I decided to make that a "Plan B" and pursue a personal makeover as "Plan A."
I threw my energy into rehab and was quickly able to transition from the wheelchair to a cane. Not ideal, but at least I wouldn't be taking out anymore kneecaps or shins. While in rehab, I started working off my belly which had gotten bigger while I was an invalid. I wasn't very physically active before the accident but sitting in a wheelchair wasn't helping. There was even some muscle definition returning to my chest and arms.
Since I wasn't going out, I had more money to spend on clothing which was something I never thought about. I began noticing what women thought about how other men were dressed. Whether it was on the train to work, at the coffee shop or in the office, I could hear women admiring what they considered well-dressed men.
Once a week I would pick up a new shirt, or slacks or shoes or a suit. I completely turned over my wardrobe.
Now I did not hear women despising me was good, but I did not hear any woman have any kind of thoughts about me at all. It was like I no longer existed.
The harder part was changing my boss's opinion of me. It took a while, but we would be in a group meeting trying to solve a problem and I could see a solution gelling in his head, and I would beat him to it. Most of my ideas would have been his and began to admire my problem-solving abilities. I did have my own ideas and would interject those after I had put his idea out to the group. He began to respect my ideas as much as the ones I stole from him.
The third part of my makeover was suing the living shit out of everybody involved in the accident that nearly killed me. I hired a junk yard lawyer and insisted I sit in on every meeting. The lawyer representing the trucking company was the easiest mark. They knew the driver had an alcohol problem, had already worked too many hours and the truck needed brakes. I also knew what it was going to cost them if we went to trial. I refused the first three settlements they offered to the dismay of my attorney. I also made sure I made heavy use of my cane and exaggerated my limp at those meetings. In reality the cane was just a safety measure by then. The final settlement amazed my attorney. Although I would still have to work, I had no worries about retirement and could afford a new car, nothing extravagant.
And I bought a sailboat. Nothing too crazy, big enough to take to deep ocean but small enough I could handle by myself. A cabin, small kitchen, bathroom, plus a motor to get in and out of port. They called it a power-sail, I called it heaven. It even had solar arrays and a battery system to run the refrigerator. I spent more and more time on the boat.
And that was another advantage of mind reading, whether buying a boat or a car, I knew what the seller's real bottom line was and how firm that line was.
You might be wondering what this new talent did for my love life. It did nothing in the beginning. Now that I knew women laughing at me wasn't just my paranoia, I didn't have the courage to ask a woman out. Eventually I realized that I didn't have to get shot down ever again. All I had to do was "drop in" on a woman I was talking to find out if she had any interest. It's a real gut punch when you're talking to a woman who is all smiles on the outside and realize she's praying for someone to come and rescue her from me.
There were some women who were willing to go out to dinner with me. I could just "drop in" during the meal and know what she was thinking. At the end of the meal, I would suggest taking her home, where I knew she wanted to be, or going for a cup of coffee. Almost always I ended up taking her home.
