Thank you Pat for all your help.
*****
I guess it was me that first heard about Hidden Valley. It was mid February, a grueling time of year for a tax accountant. Long hours, deadlines, and the pressure of paying attention to line after line of numbers can get overwhelming. You couple that with the bleak, drizzly, weather of the Pacific Northwest this time of year and life was pretty miserable.
Gina was under pressure too. She was the manager of the Portland branch of a national retail chain in the furniture and decor business, Laguna & 101. 'Bringing California Style To Your Home Wherever You Live.' Her district manager was constantly on her about daily sales numbers, new credit card openings, and decreasing labor costs.
All of this work related stress was taking a toll on our relationship. It had been weeks since we had sex. I know the pressure affected our intimacy. Also Gina had put on weight in the past year. Her long hours drastically cut down on gym time. Once you start on a path of skipping workouts it can quickly become a habit. I think part of the lack of sex had to do with her self-consciousness about her heavier body.
It was during this bleak time in our lives that I first heard about Hidden Valley Farm. At lunch one day one of the guys in our office, Tim Merchant, began talking about it.
"My sister and her husband joined and they love the place." Tim said. "They talk about the fresh air, lack of stress, and the community they are building. Compared to this shit," and he slapped his hand on a tax file he had, "It sounds like paradise."
"Is that the place in Southern Oregon outside Grants Pass", Neil, another guy in our office, asked.
Tim nodded affirmative as he was eating.
"I read somewhere about the leader, some kind of genius in microbiology or something?" Neil offered.
Tim took a minute to swallow and went on. "The guys name is Simon Brand and you're right he does have some type of advanced degree in biology. My sister says that in Hidden Valley they escape the toxic lifestyle that they had been leading in the city. This Brand has some entire philosophy about it. I've got to say, compared to all this, it sounds tempting." Tom nodded toward the window as one of the many homeless parades down the sidewalk with a shopping cart full of his worldly possessions.
At that moment Tim and Neil mention a Zoom call they are required to attend and get up to go. I notice a flyer on Hidden Valley Farm Tim left behind. It was an informational get together at a nearby conference room tonight at 5:30. I read through it. It sounded kind of interesting. I knew Gina closed tonight so she wouldn't be home till after 8PM. As I left I grabbed the flyer and thought about it. Maybe I'll stop by. What could it hurt?
I went to the meeting. The speaker was a normal looking, clean cut, outgoing, smiling type. Around my age, early 30's. He talked about the beauty and simplicity of Hidden Valley Farm. Not a lot of details just a broad overview. And then he compared it to city life. Job pressures, financial pressures, the pressure of living in a city like Portland and how all these factors can poison your life and your relationship. It was as if this speaker, Rick, opened up my mind and saw what I was experiencing.
At first I thought it may be one of these cults that take all your money. It sounded different. Number One: you had to qualify to be accepted. Number Two: then you bought 'shares' of the Farm. They had an entire brochure. You became an owner, and the shares were your property. In theory you could sell them. And finally, Number Three: the representative from HVF was a normal guy. Not some oddball kook. He looked like he could be a friend or a neighbor.
At the end of the presentation there was a form that Rick handed out.
"Everyone," He said, "If you want to learn more about our plan, just answer a couple of questions and hand the form back to me when you leave. If it's not for you, no problem."
Hmmm, no pressure at all. When he handed me the form he made eye contact and gave me a slight nod of acknowledgement. He seemed genuine and sincere.
The form asked some questions about you. Were you married, did you have children, where do you live, do you own your own home, what you did for a living etc. it even asked your income range in fairly broad terms. Pretty personal, but in my opinion not quite over the line. It also asked for your e mail address.
As I was leaving I handed in my card.
"Hope to talk to you more", Rick said to me with a slight pat on my shoulder on the way out.
Driving home I vacillated between thinking how good this could be for Gina and I, or was I nuts to even consider this radical change for our lifestyle. One thing I did know, something was going to have to change for us. The pressures of our jobs were strangling our relationship.
Driving home I thought back to when I first met Gina . . . . .
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I ran track at the University of Oregon. I was good but not great. My junior year I placed fourth in the 1500 meters in the PAC 12 Championship. I also ran in the 4 x 400 relay and my senior year we placed 2nd in the PAC 12. Some guys can go pro in track but I wasn't at that level.
My scholarship paid for my college education. I studied business and eventually received my BS in accounting.
As an athlete I had the option of living in the athlete's dormitory. They were more like small apartments rather than dorm rooms. Many, including mine, had a private bathroom. It was a great place to live for a student athlete.
When I first met Gina she was dating another athlete. A basketball player, Reggie Lake. I had seen Reggie in the dorms and around campus, but did not know him. Reggie was one of those guys that could have 30 points one night and the next night have 4. Regardless he would keep shooting. What Reggie lacked in consistency he made up in sheer confidence.
He had a big mouth and was always talking on and off the basketball court. A kind of audacious charisma that often crossed the line and became obnoxious. I met Gina at a party. I knew she was dating Reggie, but at that moment he wasn't around.
Gina was my type. Curvy with round boobs, cute face and curly light brown hair. She always seems to have a big smile on her face. Beside the boobs the smile was what attracted me.
I introduced myself, "Warner West," I said and we shook hands. Both of us having big grins on our faces. There seemed to be some chemistry.
When I told her where I lived she asked if I was an athlete and I told her I was on the track team. Unlike the basketball and football players, other athletes at Oregon did not have the same amount of celebrity status.
We were having a great conversation when all of a sudden there was this loud commotion and pretty soon everyone realized Reggie had arrived. I saw Gina glance a bit nervously toward the noise.
"I, uh, I better go," she said.
I stared into her eyes, shook her hand, holding it a bit longer than I needed to and said, "So very nice to meet you Gina."
She stared back.
At that moment Reggie, in all his glory, walked up. He grabbed Gina by her arm.
"Let's go." He barked at her.
I looked at Gina and she was staring in adoration at Reggie. I then looked at Reggie and he was glaring at me with an unspoken challenge. I held his gaze for a moment or two and then looked back at Gina. She was willingly dragged away by the glaring Reggie.
Watching them leave she continued looking up at him with a willing, content look on her face as he pulled her through the crowd at the party. I didn't get it. I had just had a great conversation with a woman who, in my opinion, was intelligent, engaging, and confident. Yet the woman being led away by the basketball player looked insecure and weak.
Thinking about it later I felt like Gina and I had made a connection. Her adoring look at Reggie was so inconsistent with the cool, intelligent girl that I started to get to know. Oh well, I thought at that moment.
It must have been two years after graduation that I ran into Gina again in downtown Portland. I was meeting some people from the office after work for a drink. She was with a group of people doing the same type of thing. Even though our interaction in college was brief, my original impressions of her, for the most part, were very positive, and I liked the way she looked. I was attracted to her. At the bar with my buddies I kept Gina and her group in view using the bar mirror.
At one point I saw her get up and head towards the bathroom. Abruptly I broke away from my buddies and made sure that our trajectories would intersect in the small bar.
"Gina?" I said with a phony surprised expression on my face.
She looked at me with the beginnings of that beautiful smile but coupled with a puzzled expression on her face. She opened her mouth to greet me, but clearly she did not know who I was.