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In relationships, when nice people meet not so nice people the outcome is predictable.  The not so nice people inevitably turn the nice people into not so nice people.  The undying love and unconditional trust struggles against deceit and manipulation until it’s eventually smothered.  Any potentially great relationship is injected with so much poisonous turmoil, it has a very poor chance to succeed.   As more and more not so nice people meet nice people, the vicious cycles of life multiply like cancer cells and destroy a once healthy relationship world.

The author, Larry Turner, writing under the name of L. Donnell, has done a magnificent job of demonstrating how love, trust, hurt, and circumstances can cause an individual to become consumed by another person’s actions, and lose sight of their own personal journey to a complete life.  This book will reveal the key to successfully circumvent life’s challenges and enable you to enjoy the wonderful pleasures that are destined for you.

Through the vision of actual occurrences and real life experiences of a thirty-three year career in Forensic Science, the author has written this book to explore the validity of the premise and evaluate the concepts to see if they can be supported by his documented actions.  Real life criminal cases are discussed to provide you with a wonderful vehicle to navigate the tremendous emotions that are experienced by the victims and the suspects as they encounter their own vicious cycles.

Throughout each chapter, explanations of the exhilarating circumstances along with descriptions of the phenomenal characters provide the perfect combination to keep you anxiously anticipating what events are going to happen next.

As you read each chapter you will begin to develop a personal relationship with the author.  By the time you have finished Vicious Cycles, you will have taken on the persona of each character, and formed an emotional bond that will last for years to come.

The heart-wrenching episodes played out in this book like a Broadway screen play, will have you filled with laughter one minute and moved to uncontrollable tears the next.

The surprise ending will make you immediately want to start reading the book all over again and discover that the key to conquering life’s vicious cycles can truly be the beginning of the rest of your life.

Vicious Cycles is a southern book with a city attitude.  It is simply a great book with a magnificent view.  It is definitely a must read for book clubs all over America and the world!

While reading this book, keep this simple question in mind.

“If you designed a person who had all the qualities that you thought they needed to be a perfect mate for you, would you have just created a person who is too good for you?”

Are you a nice person or a not so nice person?  Only you have to know the real truth.  This book will help you decide.

Table of Contents




  1. In The Beginning Everything Is Good
  2.  The Vicious Cycle Begins
  3.  It Hurts So Good
  4.  Things Mama Didn’t Tell You About College
  5.  Not All Colleges Are Created Equal
  6.  Getting Married For All The Wrong Reasons
  7.  Why Do People Really Cheat?
  8.  No One Wins In Divorce
  9.  Who’s Zooming Who?
  10.  Life’s Boomerang
  11.  There’s No Shortage Of Assholes
  12.  Blame It On Me
  13.  The Hurricane Inside
  14.  Finding the Key
  15.  The Vicious Cycles of Life Continues

CHAPTER 1 In The Beginning Everything Is Good 

“Do you think he’s going to live?”

This was the first question that my mother asked my grandmother.  At the early age of eighteen months I had come down with a severe bout of diarrhea.   For about a week, it was so bad that my body was dehydrated to the point that the family prognosis of death was the only possibility.  The availability of good medical health was not prevalent; when the midwife tried all she could to cure what ailed me, traditional home remedies were all that was left to save my life.   I was my parent’s third child and this medical situation was threatening to take their number of children back down to two overnight.

When my mother purposed the question, I am sure she wasn’t expecting to hear my grandmother’s response.  She said, “I don’t think that he is going to make it, but leave him with me and let me see what I can do.”

My grandmother had lost one of her children years before at about the same age and she didn’t want to give my mother too much hope.   I’m sure she remembered the pain that she felt when it replaced the hope that she had for survival when her child passed away.  The emotions were fresh in her mind as if it had only been the week before rather than years.

Somehow, the home remedy of a Pepsi-Cola that had been opened and allowed to set for five minutes was the miracle cure that would stop the diarrhea.  I was able to hold food in my stomach long enough to gain strength and start to live again.  Also, I’m certain the blockbuster deal that my grandmother made with the “Grim Reaper” didn’t hurt either.  The entire family was happy, and at the same time, stunned that I had made it through the night.

Expectations of the great person I would become were all abound.  My parents, siblings and other relatives felt that what I had survived at such an early age was a sure sign that my life would be filled with joy, success, and vast accomplishments.   My diapers quickly turned into pants and I was off and running……


When I was six, I started the first grade at Isabel Elementary School.  Immediately the love cycle began.  There was this pretty girl in my class that I would try any and everything I could do to get her attention.  I would get to school early so I could position myself where she had to see me when she arrived.  I felt that if I made sure I knew her name and spoke to her every morning, she would recognize me and begin to show me some attention, no matter what I looked like.  I also felt that because I was pretty smart in the class, this would get her attention as well.  None of that worked.  The more things that I thought to do, the more she ignored me.  I finally realized that she only thought I was funny and she didn’t want a funny guy for her boyfriend.  It would just be silly to have a boyfriend like that.  She liked this other guy that looked better and wore nicer clothes.  We didn’t have a lot of money and the majority of the clothes I wore were “hand me downs” from my older brother.

I just could not compete!

CHAPTER 2 The Vicious Cycle Begins

If a person does not like you, there is nothing that you can do to change their mind.  No matter what you do to capture their attention, if it is not in the cards, the two of you have a very poor chance of ever forming a relationship…….


Let’s face it, everyone wants a pretty mate!  I know I do.

Good looks are so important in some relationships that a person will put up with all different types of situations to remain together. They will accept bad attitudes, bad treatment, and in some cases, accept and allow other people in their relationship to keep their mates happy.  Some women will let an attractive man say or do anything to them just to remain with them.  They will purchase the man clothes and other toys that will make him happy.  Then, eventually they realize that will not work.  Some men will give women money and buy them expensive jewelry just to keep their attention.  Others will go as far as to pay their bills and buy them a house and a car.  The more the man buys, the more the woman demands.  In every case like this that I have witnessed, the men or the women were physically attractive.  This only perpetuates the myth that relationships are built on good looks.  This is also why so many of these relationships fail.

I will choose a beautiful woman every time even though this might not be a good foundation on which to begin………..


We spend our lives looking for the beauty queen with the hour glass shape or that knight in shining armor with the broad shoulders and beautiful smile.  The reality is most of these attractive people are insecure, and require a lot of constant reassurance to make them happy and complete.  Most of them have been spoiled and pampered.  They depend upon others to make them happy rather than making themselves happy through their own strengths. Many of them come with a lot of baggage that they carry around every place they go.  What their mates eventually realize after being with an attractive person for a while is that it is not worth carrying all that baggage.  They eventually get rid of them.  Those who don’t realize it, continue to carry the baggage around for so long that it becomes their baggage.   When the attractive person realizes that they don’t need another person with the same baggage that they have, they get rid of them.  They then find someone else without baggage.  This starts the same vicious cycle all over again.  There is now another individual with baggage in search of someone without baggage to carry theirs.

The cycle never ends, it just multiplies………

“There’s no such thing as a bad relationship.  There are only good relationships.  Any relationship that is not a good relationship is called insanity.”

CHAPTER 3 It Hurts So Good

When I finally started dating seriously, it was after my sophomore year at Jim Hill High School.  Sure, I had been turned down numerous times by the girls in the neighborhood that felt that I didn’t meet their standards for whatever reason, but I had never dated a girl before then that would claim me back as her boyfriend.  I was either too nice, not cool enough, or I just wasn’t attractive enough for their girlfriends to give them major points for landing the boy that every other girl wanted and could not get.  I was just the boy next door and that was it in a nutshell.

One night that summer, Julian and I went to this house party on the street behind my house.  My parents did not approve of us attending those types of parties because they had heard that nasty things happened there, and we could get in trouble in a bad way.  Julian and I had heard somewhat of the same thing, but we had heard it in a different way.  We heard that you could meet girls at those parties that would let you “cop a feel” of their breasts and rub their behinds.  It had also been rumored that when the deejay played slow jams, some of the girls would let you “grind” on them and it would be sort of like having sex.  You must understand; to a sixteen year old virgin, this was some very important information that I needed to explore.  I had even heard through the grapevine that there were some ways that boys could achieve sexual pleasure by themselves, but I had not yet experienced any such pleasure.  I felt that an episode at one of these parties would surely change me, in a good way, forever.

When I went into the party, I saw this young lady who appeared to be about my age.  She briefly looked at me and looked away.  This had never happened to me before.  She actually made eye contact with me for a whole second!  The only other previous eye contact that I’d had with a female was when my older sister made eye contact with me right before she was getting ready to beat me up.  Even though this was new for me, I knew I needed to say something to her.  I felt that she was not too pretty as to not to want to date me.  Now I know that might sound strange, but back then, I believed that very pretty girls were simply unattainable for guys whose handsomeness didn’t measure up to their beauty.  I have since realized that this was a bunch of crap.  I have discovered that the prettier the girl, the lonelier the girl.  Most pretty girls complain that the large majority of guys are very intimidated by them and will very seldom get up enough nerve to approach them, no less ask them for a date.   When a guy finally approaches them and asks them out, it’s normally a guy that even an unattractive woman would not want.

Either way, I was going to give this young lady an opportunity to say yes or to turn me down.

After we made eye contact, I stood back and watched her for about two or three minutes.  Her skin tone was dark, somewhere between “brown sugar” and “chocolate chip.” Back in the day, we had developed terms for the different shades of skin in the community. There was “vanilla,” which was a very fair skinned female with nice hair; “brown sugar,” a medium complexioned female whose skin tone was about the color of the actual brown sugar; “chocolate chip,” a female whose skin tone was a dark complexion but was very, very smooth; and, the incredible “red bone,” whose skin tone was light with a reddish tone to it.   A red bone girl made you immediately start fantasizing about touching her all over.  She was the ultimate catch, and was the one who would immediately awaken all of your wildest senses with a degree of inhibition that could not be matched.  Keep in mind: all of these girls were considered beautiful.  They each presented their beauty in different packages.

Thin and about average height for a female at 5’5” or 5’6,” she had shoulder length hair that appeared to have been recently curled that day at the salon.  Curves in the right places,  even though they were not yet very well defined.  She appeared a little shy because she was playing with her hair a lot……….


I couldn’t believe it!  I was actually having my first girlfriend-boyfriend conversation with a real person!  I had practiced this conversation many times before with myself in the mirror, but this was very different.  As I leaned in closer to hear her and talk to her over the pounding music in the background, I could smell her scent.   Clean, not like a perfume or body spray, but like bath soap.  You know…like Ivory or Dove.  I was very attracted to her scent because in my mind, I associated the scent with purity, cleanliness, and a newborn baby that had yet to be exposed to the evils of the world.  Just then, a slow record started playing and I asked her to dance. The song was “If I Were Your Woman” by Gladys Knight and the Pips.

To my amazement, she said yes.  As we made our way to the dance floor, I grabbed Vivian’s hand and pulled her slender body close to mine.  The song played and she held me very tightly.  I thought to myself maybe she had heard the same thing that Julian and I had heard about these parties.  So I started to grind on her body as if I knew what I was doing.  I could feel the warmth of her skin and her body as it tensed.  I could hear her heart beating at a rapid pace as she reciprocated and responded, grinding her body into mine.  I felt I had the green light to explore any parts of her body that I would like so I slowly slid my hand up to her perky breasts.  With one hand I began to squeeze.  I could hear that her breathing began to increase with a rhythmic motion like waves rushing to the shoreline and retreating back to the ocean.  There was only one thing left to complete the cycle for what I had come to the party to do.  I released her breast, and with both hands, grabbed both of her butt cheeks.  I felt her body tremble and I heard her let out a sigh of relief.  It was as if all the blood had just been drained from her body and quickly refilled in one complete motion.  I looked down at her and lifted her chin.

“Are you okay?” I said.

“Yes, I’m fine.”  She laid her head on my chest……..


“Definition of a Friend: Someone that knows all of your weaknesses but will not use them against you.”

We sat there for a few minutes.  Vivian was still crying and I didn’t say a word.  It was a very awkward moment.  There was a feeling running through my body that was very strange.  It was if I had just been castrated and I would never be able to have sex with a woman ever.  I put on my shirt and about that time, her parents pulled up into the driveway.  Vivian and I quickly ran to the living room area and did our best to act normal, like nothing ever happened.  Shortly after that, I went home.  I remembered thinking on the way home that things would never be the same between the two of us again.  I was right………


“Choose your friends wisely, because your enemies are going to choose you.”

I then asked, “Why are you crying?  Are you pregnant?”

She replied, “Yes, I mean…no…I mean…I guess so.”

That is when I began to lose my cool.  I knew we had not had sex and Vivian’s indecisive answers had taken me onto a totally unfamiliar playing field.  It seemed as if the home team was losing.  I told her that I didn’t want to talk about it on the phone and I was coming over.  When I got to Vivian’s house, I could tell that she had been crying a lot.  Her eyes had begun to swell and they were red and puffy.  When I touched her hands, Vivian was shaking like a leaf on a tree in a wind storm.  I could hear her heart beating through her blouse like a tribal drum at an African ceremony.

I looked Vivian straight in her eyes and said, “Tell me the truth.  Are you pregnant?”

She replied in a low tone, “Yes.”

I then asked her, “By who?”………..


“When nice people meet not so nice people, the not so nice people turn the nice people into the monsters that we have become.”

Deep down, I knew that what I was doing was not right, but my out of control dating rampage was filling the void that had been created when the vicious cycle twisted through my life.  I was having fun and I didn’t care at whose expense.  The vicious cycle had turned me from the nice person to the not so nice person…………

Chapter 4 Things Mama Didn’t Tell You About College

There was a “cool” code.  The male status on campus would be measured by how successful they were with the women.  The more women they had, the higher up on the food chain they were.  The old double standard for men and women was prominent on the college campus.  If a man dated ten women, he was given the ultimate player’s trophy.  It didn’t matter who he was before achieving that status.  Sure he was considered a “dog,” but he was the “Big Dog” and he was the bad boy for every woman to try and tame.  If a woman dated just two men, she was considered a whore.  No discussion needed.  She was a whore!

It was like the men and women were from two different planets.  The women were looking for one man to satisfy all of their principal needs.  Every woman felt that they had the “platinum pussy” and when any man got some of it, it would be like kryptonite and render them useless to any another woman.  The men, on the other hand, were looking for lots of women to satisfy their one principal need.  That principal need was sex……..


Amber had the type of body that demanded a man’s attention.  She was short in stature, standing about 5’2”, but she had a pair of breasts that stood at attention even if it was not cold.  She had half inch nipples that you could see even when she had on a bra and a wool sweater covering the bra.  Her waistline was very small and she had buttocks that curved down to her muscular legs.  That combination could stop a funeral procession.  Her entire anatomy oozed sex and she had a walk that made her jiggle from top to bottom.  Amber loved to wear tight jeans.  When she made her appearance on campus, her bottom looked like two pigs fighting underneath a blanket…..

When she returned, she removed her shower cap, came over to her bed where I was sitting, untied and opened her robe, and let it drop to the floor.  I had never seen a body that was that tight.  Her ass seemed like you could bounce a quarter off of it.  I could tell that she had used some fragrance shower gel because she smelled just like the aroma of freshly picked strawberries.  When the robe hit the floor, Amber didn’t say one word.  She just stared at me with that, “What the fuck are you going to do” look on her face.  I looked into her face, trying not to give away the fact that I had just investigated her entire body in two to five seconds and said, “What?”……….

He said that she came up to him when she saw him on campus and made the statement, “You need to teach your little brother how to fuck,” in an emphatic manner and walked away without any further information………….

CHAPTER 5 Not All Colleges Are Created Equal

After unpacking, I drove up on campus to check out what it had to offer.  Ole Miss was beautiful: clean, landscaped and manicured.   The university had even been voted one of Playboy Magazine’s Most Beautiful campuses.   Large, majestic trees and stately columned older Southern buildings gave the campus an air of grandeur.  The mixture of newer and more modern structures was a perfect complement.  There were more students on campus than I had ever seen anywhere before, but the campus didn’t appear crowded at all.  Ole Miss was nothing like I had expected it to be since less than thirteen years prior, Medgar Evers had fought to get James Meredith admitted after his own attempt to get into their law school had failed seven years earlier.  The canvas that bore the painted memory of the massive protest against allowing people of color to attend appeared to have been replaced by a tranquil Norman Rockwell’s painting in The Saturday Evening Post……….


Monique had on a pair of painted on jeans and a blouse that was tied at the waist.  I could see her navel.  Her long hair had been freshly styled with a part just left of center.  She had on a pair of red pumps that matched her blouse.  As she walked down the stairs, Monique had this look on her face as if she knew she was queen bee and that all the best honey that night would be dripping from her tree trunk.  To say that she was looking very sexy would be the understatement of the year.  Even though she knew she was looking good, there was a keen sense of humility that completely surrounded her entire being; she spoke to as many of the ladies as she could as she made her way over to me.  It seemed as if she wanted everyone to see her and who she was going out with.  She was getting ready to land “Moby Dick.”  It was as if she was saying in a very nice way, “Look bitches, I get the prize.”……….


Before the spring semester ended, I had changed my major to a career that would turn out to be one of the hottest careers of the century: Forensic Science.  I didn’t have a lot of information about the field, but I knew that it would allow an analyst to use science to help solve criminal cases.  I must admit, although the concept of using chemistry, biology, and physics to solve murders and rapes was very intriguing, it still seemed a little weird at the time.  The only information that was available about Forensic Science was what we had seen on a television show called “Quincy,” starring Jack Klugman.  Klugman was previously known as the disorganized slob starring opposite neat freak, Tony Randle, in a sitcom called “The Odd Couple.”  On the show, Jack Klugman was seen as anything but serious.  So when I watched “Quincy,” it was hard for me to buy into the importance of the career.  Monique had convinced me to attend a meeting held by a visiting professor from Florida to discuss the Forensic Science career in depth.  Monique made it clear that she wanted to attend the meeting and it certainly would be in my best interest to go as well.  I reluctantly agreed.  Once I heard what Forensic Science was all about, I was blown away.  Everything the professor explained was so exciting and I was fascinated by his presentation.  The final nail in the coffin for me was when he said, “If you are able to pass this curriculum, you will never have to look for a job again.”  That was it.   Even though it sounded too good to be true, I was sold.  My new Pharmacy career was Forensic Science………….


By the time she came out of the bathroom, I was lying on the bed with nothing on but my underwear.  The light in the room was sufficient enough to see that she had on a sheer baby doll nightie.  Her body was very well put together, as if she worked out.  Her nipples were hard and pointing straight out at me like headlights on a 57 Chevy.  I could see the cheeks of her round ass wiggling as she went over to the door to lock it as if she was preparing to kidnap me for the entire night.

When she crawled into bed, there was no talking.   It was as if she was getting ready to sell me a used car and she wanted me to test drive it as hard as I possibly could before I bought it.  I took her nightie off and begin to suck her nipples as I caressed her body firmly.  I then started to gently bite on her ear as I massaged her clit.  She breathed with excitement as if she hadn’t made love in a long time.  Within two minutes I was inside of her body, thrusting back and forth like a Texas oil well in the hot summer heat.  We started off in the missionary position, but she quickly rolled me over and got on top.  It seemed as if she wanted to control the movements that were being made and how deep I would penetrate her body.  After exploring a few more positions, I could tell Nicki was close to climaxing.  I grabbed her breasts and she exploded with ecstasy, like a volcano that hadn’t erupted in ten years.  She climaxed for about thirty seconds as her entire body shook like she was in three feet of snow, naked and exposed to the cold.

After the shaking subsided, Nicki kissed me on the forehead as if she was telling me I had done a good job.  It reminded me of the pat on the head that a person gives their dog when the dog retrieved the stick they had thrown and brought it back………



Scrreeeccchh!  Did I miss something at the party?  Had she and Chris made a love connection when I wasn’t looking?  It didn’t matter.  I was tired and the suggestion sounded good to me……


About an hour later, Jessica came out of the bedroom.  She had removed her jeans and she was wearing one of my fraternity t-shirts that she had rummaged through my closet to find. The t-shirt was slightly oversized on her and fit her like a mini dress.  I could see that she had removed her bra and her nipples were poking through the cotton material like two swollen thumbs.  The way that her firm thighs were jetting out from underneath the bottom of the t-shirt was making me think about only one thing.  (Pause. Take a deep breath.)  If I have to tell you what that one thing was, you wouldn’t understand it any way.

“You know, I feel bad that you have to sleep on the couch.”  She paused, and then continued.  “You could come to bed and both of us could sleep in the bed together.  Are you scared I might bite you?”

“No, “I told her.  “I am just respecting you like my mom had always taught me to do.”

“I am sure that your mom taught you very well.  I wouldn’t have any problems if we slept in the same bed.”  Jessica looked at me with those hazel eyes and smiled.  “It would make me feel better about taking your bed.”………


I immediately turned over and began to gently squeeze and hug her.  It seemed like her body was completely consumed into mine.  Jessica held on to me as if she was riding the dreaded “Monster Rollercoaster” at the fair and she didn’t want to fall off.  It seemed like she was a little scared, but very excited at the same time.  When we begin to make love, she seemed to be a little uncomfortable.

I asked her, “Am I hurting you?”

“No,” she said. It feels good.”

I proceeded, but in a more cautious, delicate manner.  I kissed her lips and gently caressed her rather than bumping and grinding.  As our amorous encounter reached its crescendo, we both climaxed and her fingernails sank deep into my back.  I felt both her passion and her pain…….


Starting with Monique as my main girlfriend who I would deny every other woman to, I would make Jessica my girlfriend #1, then there would be Pamela #2, Carol #3, Judy #4, and Denise #5.  The key would be that each one of the girlfriends would know about their rankings in my life and they should never approach me when I was with Monique or if I was with a girlfriend that ranked higher than they did.   Sounds like a ridiculous plan doesn’t it?  This system could never work.  Right?

Even if it could work, who would be bold enough to pull it off?   Even though the odds were totally against me, I gave it a try and guess what, it worked.  If I was with Monique, none of the other girlfriends would come over and speak to me.  Not even Jessica.  If I was with Jessica, neither Pamela, Carol, Judy, or Denise would come over and speak to me.  If I was with Pamela, neither Carol, Judy, nor Denise would approach.  This all sounds pretty confusing doesn’t it?  Well it certainly was.  It was so confusing that I started to only refer to my girlfriends by their numbers.

People in my inner circle would do the same thing.  It was very common for Chris or one of my fraternity brothers to approach one of the ladies that I was dating and say, “What’s up, #3?”  Carol would respond just as if they had called her by her given name.  It wasn’t that I was better than all the other guys; it was the fact that I would listen to what the women were saying and they loved that.  Not only did I listen to what they were saying, I was hearing what their heart wanted to say.  That’s what made the whole system work.

The vicious cycle had reached a new low………

CHAPTER 6 Getting Married For All The Wrong Reasons

I didn’t know Vicky’s age, but it was obvious that she had been very well preserved.  Even in her nurse’s uniform, there was no doubt that that she was a well-kept woman.  Vicky’s uniforms fit her as if she had gotten each personally tailored by Oscar de la Renta.  Some of the doctors at the medical center even called Vicky “Nurse Good Body” when she wasn’t around.  Her hair was always styled perfectly and when she was in her street clothes, it was apparent that they weren’t purchased at the five and dime store.

Vicky was professional; the head nurse in the Pharmacy department.  It was rumored that she ran a very tight ship when dispensing drugs for patients.  Only a few people might have really liked her, but everyone respected her.  Vicky was also very flirty with most of the important men at the hospital, but you could tell she was extremely selective with whom she spent her time with after hours.

Vicky and I met one day in the cafeteria.  She was in line in front of me waiting to order her lunch.  I found myself staring at her butt.  I didn’t realize she could see me looking until she turned around and said in her raspy voice, “Why don’t you take a picture of it?  It would last longer.”

I felt like a curious young teenager who had just been caught masturbating underneath the sheets by his mother.

I replied, “Excuse me?”

She said, “My ass.  I can see you staring at my ass from the reflection on the serving counter.”

Damn!  She was right.  She could see me as plain as day and I was busted.  I told her that I was sorry and asked her to please forgive me.

She replied, “Don’t be sorry.  How does it look?”

Bammm!  Was this a trick question?  I paused for a second and without giving a thought to what I would say, countered, “I would ride that ass bareback without a saddle.”  I gave her the sexiest smile that I could put on my face because I knew the string of curse words that were coming next out of her mouth weren’t going to be pretty.

She looked at me and returned the same sexy smile and replied, “That’s pretty good. Maybe you will get a chance to come over to the Ponderosa and ride this ass some time.”

I told her, “I would love to.”……….


The burglar alarm went off.

“What’s going on?” I asked Vicky.

She reached under her bed and pulled out a gun and handed it to me and said, “It’s my ex-boyfriend. He’s crazy.”

I almost shitted in my pants!  I probably would have if I’d had on a pair.  Here Vicky was handing me the gun to protect us from her crazy ex-boyfriend and I was laying up there naked as a jaybird.  Now I know how Lionel Richie felt.  This was not good.  What would my mother say?  How would Monique react if she found this out?

It was amazing.  Back then, it seemed that whenever I was in a tragic situation, I would always think about the two women that I loved the most.  I didn’t know what that was all about, but maybe one day some psychiatrist can help me figure it out.

I managed to quickly pull on my pants.  I slowly walked through the long, dark hallway and around the corner to the living room.

The gun was in my hand.

All I could think about was if I would be able to shoot this crazed ex-boyfriend if I had to. I had seen this scenario a thousand times on television shows, but I never recalled my booty being as tight as it was at that very moment.  When I made it to the picture window, I could see the brick that had been thrown through the oversized picture window.  There was glass all over the living room floor.  I backed out since I wasn’t wearing any shoes.

By this time, Vicky had silenced the alarm, and was sitting back in bed, waiting on my report.  I can tell you one thing; at that particular moment, Vicky wasn’t looking that damn sexy to me!  I told her that someone had thrown a brick through the window and glass was all over the place.

She asked me, “Do you want to clean up the glass?”

It was about 2:00am and it was dark outside.  I wasn’t about to start cleaning up glass with the lights on where I could be seen by whomever had just thrown the brick through the window.

I looked at Vicky with the most serious look that I had and said, “Hell no!  I’m just going to lay here until the sun comes up and then I’m getting the fuck out of here.”………….


The next morning, I realized that Monique and I had gotten married for all the wrong reasons.  Was it just to make our family members happy, or maybe just to satisfy some of our friends, or not to disappoint others?  Maybe I had done it because everybody said it was the right thing to do.  It could have been a combination of all of those things.  Whatever it was, it was for all the wrong reasons.  But it didn’t matter at that point.  We were married and I loved her.  I felt I was ready to give the marriage my undivided attention and show Monique that I could be the type of man that deserved the wonderful woman that she was.  In my mind, no other woman would be able to come between us this time.

I guess I still hadn’t realized the strength of the winds of the vicious cycles.  Little did I know, the winds of the vicious cycle had other plans in store for Monique and me.

Chapter 7 Why Do People Really Cheat

My career as a Forensic Scientist at the Crime Lab was beginning to gain momentum.  I had finished my training period and had been assigned my first case.  It was a triple murder case where a man, his daughter, and the daughter’s female friend, who was spending the night on a sleep over, were killed and dumped in the woods.  What a great case to start off my career.

I had to visit the crime scene to observe the victim’s bodies and their surroundings in search of physical evidence.  I needed to connect the killer to the case.

When I arrived at the crime scene, I observed that the twelve year old daughter had been shot one time in the stomach and was lying in the fetal position.  She was still dressed in her Snoopy design pajamas.  The thirteen year old female neighbor had been dragged about fifty feet away from the spot where the daughter was found.  She too had been shot in the stomach.  With her arms pulled straight above her head, the view of her Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs pajamas was as vivid as a Disney movie in Technicolor.  The body of the father of the twelve year old was found about a half mile away in some thick brush.  He had been shot twice: once in the back of the head and once in the back of his torso.

After collecting all of the physical evidence from the crime scene, it was time to go and witness the autopsies of all three.  The autopsies were filled with cutting, sawing, and collection of more physical evidence.  It was gruesome, but surprisingly, I was not at all intimidated by what was happening.  I had been fully trained on what to expect and my focus was squarely on my responsibilities and nothing else.

Collecting physical evidence at the crime scene and observing the autopsies wasn’t bad.  The overwhelming challenge for me was clearly being able to handle the smell of the decaying bodies.  It was an odor unlike any other that I had ever smelled before.  Imagine a scent one hundred times stronger than that a dead rat placed in a hot room for several days.  The stench was truly nauseating.

Once the autopsies were finished, I returned home, took a shower, got in bed and closed my eyes.  When I did, I could visualize the twelve year old in her fetal position.  I quickly opened my eyes and wondered if I would be able to handle this career.  I closed my eyes once again, but this time, there wasn’t an image of any kind and I fell straight to sleep.  Two days later, I was notified that the suspected killer had been located.  He was the father’s stepson who was on drugs.  He needed money, and when the father didn’t give it to him, he forcibly took the money and eventually killed all three victims.  When the suspect was asked why he killed the two young girls he simply replied, “They could recognize me so I had to kill them.”

Within three months, I had examined all of the physical evidence from the crime scene and the autopsies and I was able to make a connection between the stepson and the victims. My first case was complete.  I didn’t have to appear in court to testify as an expert witness on the case because once the stepson was notified of my results, he plead guilty to all three murders.  He was sentenced to life without a possibility of parole………

“You can’t justify cheating. It’s not right no matter what justification that you use.”

Okay.  That’s a very good point.  So why do married people cheat anyway?  Why the hell are there so many married men and women out there cheating?  What reasons do they have?

Let’s explore this conversation shall we?  Let’s start at the basics and then expand upwards and outwards……….


Who do married men cheat with?  They cheat with women.  When men sleep around, people call them studs.  When women sleep around, people call them sluts.  The truth of the matter is the only people who call women that sleep around with men sluts are other women. Men don’t call them sluts, they just call them…………


The amazing thing about this concept is we don’t really look at single people as “real” cheaters.  Even if single people are cheating with married people, the cheaters are the married people, not the single people.

When two married people are cheating on their spouses with each other, it really can’t be considered cheating.  That can truly be considered the ultimate example of the term “Friends with Benefits.”  They simply cancel each other out in the entire vicious cycle.  If you want to view it theoretically, single people can’t cheat on other single people.  In most cases, single people are not really in committed relationships even though they try to convince themselves that they are.

They are only waiting to get into a committed relationship by getting married or they are waiting to trade up to someone better.  For single people, marriage is the option that they chose when they can’t find someone better to trade up to.  That’s when the vicious cycle really gets confusing because then the same person can be the nice person in one relationship and at the same time they can be the not so nice person in another relationship.

Now if all of this sounds confusing to you, don’t worry about it. You are probably married and you or your spouse is cheating. The other option is that you are single trying to get married.  Bottom line, always remember, married or single, “It ain’t cheating unless you get caught.”


Chapter 8 No One Wins In Divorce

Only this time there weren’t any numbers.  I don’t know why I couldn’t always remember the names of all of the ladies.  I guess that was just one of the ways that I kept from getting emotionally attached with any of them.

It was time to put the system to work.  Let’s see, there was Robin.  Jacque and I called her “Miss America.”  Robin was statuesque like one of those beauty queen contestants………


Then there was Kimberly.  We called her “Legs.”  Not only did Kimberly have a set of perfect legs, she had one of those stances where she appeared to be leaning back even when she was standing straight up.  Kimberly also had hips proportional to her legs that advertised that you could not hurt her, no matter what the sexual position………


I can’t forget Pamela.  She was tall, lean and built just like a stallion.  You would think that her nickname would have been “Black Beauty” but it was not.  Jacque and I called her “Braces” because she had braces on her teeth.  When most people wore braces, they looked nerdy and sort of awkward.  Pamela was far from that description.  Let me just put it this way: when it came to intimacy, her braces never got in the way of anything that she needed to accomplish…………


She had a look on her face that was very hard for me to interpret.  Was it madness?  Disappointment?  Disbelief?  Confusion? Or all of the above wrapped up into one?  It was like the mixture of the liquors in a Long Island Ice Tea and just like those liquors, you might not know which one is going to get you drunk, but you know by the time you finish it , you will be.

With a stern voice Monique asked, “Who the hell is Lisa?  And please don’t lie.”

Why did she have to say please don’t lie.  When a person says that it can only mean two things:  either they know the real truth and they are just trying to see if you will admit it, or they are trying to trick you into telling them the real truth.  At that moment, it dawned on me that in a conversation that I had with Lisa, I told her that I enjoyed being with her, but I would never leave my wife and child for any reason.  I guess Lisa didn’t believe me and she had to find out the truth for herself.

I thought for a couple of seconds and I did the only manly thing I could do.  I lied.  I know that the truth had worked well for me in the past, but this was not the time to roll the dice. With a stupid look on my face I said, “Who is Lisa?  I don’t think I know a Lisa.”

There.  I did it.  Everybody knows that it’s a fact that when you ask someone a simple question and the person who is getting ready to answer the question repeats the question back to you, they are getting ready to tell a lie.  They are just trying to buy a little time to think of the best lie to tell.  I would be no exception.

With a look of sarcasm Monique responded, “Maybe this will help jog your memory.  Lisa called me today and told me the type of underwear that you have on when the two of you are getting ready to fuck.”

Oouuchhhh!  I didn’t see that coming………


This was very frustrating.  It was at that point that I really realized the main truth about divorcing someone.

No one wins in divorce.  It’s not pretty.  It’s very uncomfortable.  It’s nerve racking.  The worse thing about divorce is that it’s very, very, very stressful.  Oh, did I forget to mention the fact that going through a divorce is stressful?  The simple fact about divorce is worth repeating a thousand times.

No one wins in divorce!…….


Chapter 9 Whose Zooming Who?

Every day in San Diego was an absolute beautiful day to commit a murder. This particular one fit the pattern.  My day at the Crime Lab began very normally.  About 3:00pm, I received a call from a Sergeant over one of the Homicide Teams.  He informed me that a partially nude female body had been found in a local apartment complex, and she had been stabbed multiple times.  He explained that it was a gruesome scene.  There was blood all over the bedroom where the body had been found, so they would need my assistance in the collection of the bloodstains.

By 4:00pm, I had packed my crime scene collection kit and was headed to the crime scene to assist in the collection and preservation of any physical evidence that might help identify the killer.   When I arrived at the crime scene, the Sergeant explained what they knew already about the scene and then led me into the bedroom to observe the victim’s body.  The first thing that I noticed about the body was it was posed in an unusual position: her arms were stretched out straight from her body and her legs were spread wide apart………..


After this last murder, the shit hit the fan throughout the department.  Even though we didn’t have tangible physical evidence to connect all three of the murders together, the posing of the three victims in the same manner was enough circumstantial evidence to build a foundation that suggested this was indeed a serial killer.

At this point, identifying the donor of the seminal fluid would be the piece of the puzzle that we would need to help solve these cases.  The investigation had hit a new high.  Blood samples from suspects were coming into the lab at a rate of five to ten per day for my analysis………


I realized I was in trouble when I took Marilyn to a Los Angeles Raiders game and we met up with my brother Julian.  Julian had seen me with lots of beautiful women and he was very aware of how gorgeous Vanessa was, but when he saw Marilyn he pulled me to the side and said, “You’re in big trouble.”

I looked at him and said, “Why?”

I was waiting for him to say something like Vanessa had called his house that morning asking him questions about where I was but he didn’t.  He slowly responded with the most serious look that I had ever seen on his face, “Your girlfriend is just as pretty as your wife.”

Julian was right.  Marilyn was just as pretty as Vanessa and I couldn’t find one apparent reason to leave her alone other than the obvious.

I was married!


“Some questions ask themselves and their answers are already evident.”

She followed that up with, “I’m sure if there was something that you felt you needed to tell me, you would have told me even if I didn’t ask.”


Chapter 10 Life’s Boomerang

The last person that I grieved when he left me was my father.  My father was a man who didn’t really know how to express himself in a personal or inviting way.  He was a very hard worker who taught us that any obstacle could be overcome by hard work.  He had very few encouraging words for me no matter what accomplishments I achieved.  I never understood the continuous tough love that he practiced on me and for long periods of time, we didn’t see eye to eye on many issues.

No matter what the situation was between us, I always loved him.  I loved him because he was there with us when many men in the neighborhood left their families.  I loved him because he taught me how to work hard and the value of it.  Most importantly, I loved him because in spite of his short comings, he did the very best that he could with what he had.

Before he passed, I was fortunate enough to bond with him in a special way and find closure to the up and down relationship that we shared for most of our lives.  The last three months of his life, I went by and shaved him every day and cut his hair when needed.  After I would finish, we would always talk about any and everything that we could.

One day, I took him by the home that I shared with Vanessa and showed him what I had done.  He completely loved it.  He talked about every room in the house and what a great job that I had done trimming out each room around the borders.  He told me he was very proud of me and that he loved me.  He had never said anything remotely close to that to me before.  When he passed, I spoke at his funeral.  I didn’t know exactly how strong I would be in giving my tribute, but surprisingly, I was stronger than ever.  I shared the fact with the congregation that the two of us had found closure together with each other before he passed and I was happy that we had the opportunity to do so.

I later realized that all the things that he had done that I didn’t understand had made me the strong man that I turned out to be.  When I think about my father now, I always feel a sense of peace……


Chapter 11 There’s No Shortage Of Assholes 

Most of the hotels were four or five star hotels and finding an attractive companion to have dinner and drinks with would be easy as pie. As I travelled to different cities to teach the classes, I would meet many beautiful women who were professional, earned their own money and owned their own homes.  However, they were extremely unhappy for one reason or another.  Usually the reason was because they couldn’t find a real man who was intriguing enough to keep their attention and they definitely didn’t want to settle for whoever they could get.  They desired the touch of a real man, but at the same time, they didn’t want to become just a “booty call.”  They were happy with their accomplishments, but their lives were not complete.

They knew they were missing something special in their lives and they were determined to go out and find it.  These ladies weren’t necessarily looking for a relationship, they were looking for a man to talk to and listen to them. A man that would not just hear what they were saying, they needed a man that would truly listen to them and be sensitive to their needs. They wanted a man to listen to their problems at work.  They needed a man to listen to the issues that they were having with their family.  They wanted a man that would not be judgmental of them and just accept them for who they were. They had wants and needs and they needed a man who could help them figure out what their wants were as opposed to what their needs were.  Most of all, they needed a man who could “rock their world” between the sheets.  Not some “pretty boy” that was only trying to satisfy his own sexual needs.

Don’t get me wrong, these were independent women.  They had strong wills, they had definite convictions, and they were very capable of making their own decisions no matter how difficult the decisions were.  There were just times they needed a real man to grab a handful of their hair and give them a firm slap on the ass while he was making love to them “doggy style.”  Sometimes, they wanted to take control of the sexual escapade by crawling on top of the man and straddling him and thrusting their body back and forth repeatedly and watch him lose control and explode and scream like a little bitch.  But most of the time, all they needed was a man who would make love to them beginning with passionate foreplay and always ending with an earth-shattering orgasm.  A man who could then caress their body for hours after it was over.  They needed someone that would be up to the challenge of satisfying their sexual needs every time they were together in bed.

In short, they needed someone to be their lover and psychiatrist all in one and not charge them $400.00 an hour per session or try and tell them how to run their lives.  These ladies were looking for an emotional fling with no promise of tomorrow.


Then she said in a somewhat challenging way, “So I guess after you have me, you won’t be a virgin anymore.”

Whoop there it is!  Marian had just challenged my manhood.  Not only was she aggressive, she was “nicety.”  She was nice and nasty.  Even though she was very confident in her approach, I don’t think she realized that she was Little Red Riding Hood, and she was meeting the Big Bad Wolf………

Chapter 13 The Hurricane Inside

The attitudes the Millennial Generation had weren’t their fault though.  They primarily stemmed from the “Baby Boomer” Generation spoiling them.  I was part of the Baby Boomer generation and we were always taught to develop a meaningful philosophy of life.  We were taught to work hard for everything that we got and to be grateful for everything that we were given.   We learned how to play well with others and share our possessions.  For some reason, we bought into the premise of working very hard so we could provide our children with all of the things that our parents weren’t able to provide for us.

Somewhere between trying to do the right thing and becoming our children’s friend, we helped to create Generation X and Generation Y.  For the Baby Boomers, the days of the mother staying at home and raising the kids were gone.  Society and the economy dictated the need for the household to have two incomes to successfully survive.  This turned us into “helicopter parents.”  We hovered over our children and were satisfied with letting the television and the Internet raise them while we tried to make life better for them.

Even though we thought we were doing the proper thing, we ended up creating little monsters that we, and society, would have to deal with at some point.

As a college professor, that point was staring me right in the face…………


The first marriage, my mistake; the second marriage, a bad decision; third marriage, there wasn’t going to be one.  Not to her and not at that time.

As far as children were concerned, I told her that at my age, I needed a child like I needed a hole in my head………..



Over the next few months, I decided to go back to the basics like my mother had always taught me to do…………..


Chapter 14 Finding The Key

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,

                                                            William Shakespeare

It was as if the memories were revealed to me in the form of a hit Broadway play.

SCENE I: No More Mr. Nice Guy……….

SCENE II: Amber’s Revenge…………..

SCENE III: The Power of Persuasion…….

SCENE IV: Till Death Do Us Part…….

SCENE V: A House Is Not a Home……

SCENE VI: A Person a Name Does Not Make……

SCENE VII:  Solve the Murder and Save Your Life…….

SCENE VIII:  The Second Time Around……..

SCENE IX:  Close to the Edge……..

SCENE X:  The Change Had Come………..

…….Fade back to the moment


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