The story of Wild Oats and the psychic

There once was a girl who got a mysterious phone call after a night at the bar . . .

“This is Danielle*, we met at the bar last night. Give me a call back when you get a chance.”

I looked down at my phone as I hung up, genuinely perplexed. Who was this middle-aged sounding woman leaving me voice mails? And why the hell did she have my number in the first place??

Did I…

No! I couldn’t have.

Could I?

Shit.

I gave the psychic my phone number.

That’s right! Damn it. As if it wasn’t bad enough that I had my health insurance and phone bill due in a few days and no paycheck in sight, now I had a psychic on my hands that wanted me to pay her back for candles she said she’d burn for me.

Apparently if these candles were not burned, my love life was doomed.

“I only have ten dollars,” I told her as she cornered me in the bar telling me that I have a lot of problems in my love life and that I needed her to burn candles for me so she could look deeper into the “problem.”

“That’s okay,” Danielle said. “You can owe me.”

I remember jotting down my phone number, telling her I’d pay her back. And thanking her profusely.

Stupid alcohol.

Now, here I sat, in the parking lot of Target wondering if I should call her back. If I didn’t, I was sure bad things would happen to me. Did psychics use Voodoo dolls? I sighed, pulled up her phone number and hit dial. I hated owing people money. I would pay her back and that would be that.

“Hello?” I said as she answered the phone.

“Hello honey.” She proceeded to explain to me what the candles she had burned for me showed her. She said that I had a big problem. One that required the burning of honey candles. My relationship issues would be fixed only if these candles were burned. These honey candles would be expensive, but they would work. My life would change. I would be happily and blissfully in love.

“I have to tell you, Danielle. I’m a poor graduate student. I barely have a job and I have so many bills to pay it makes my head spin. Unfortunately I really don’t think I’ll have the money for that, but I really do want to pay you back for the candles you’ve already burnt,” I explained. “Can I mail you a check?”

She convinced me to stop by and I really just wanted to get it over with. She only lived a few towns away, so I decided to go to her place, pay her the money I owed, and leave. I jotted down her address and told her I’d swing by to pay her, knowing full well that she would try and persuade me to buy theseĀ  candles.

Stand firm. Just say no to honey candles. I said to myself as I pulled up to her house an hour later. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it was a perfectly normal house. On a perfectly normal street. In a perfectly normal neighborhood.

I tried to remember what Danielle the psychic looked like as I walked up to the front door and rang the bell. As soon as she opened the door I recognized her and breathed a sigh of relief. No long black robe. No crystal ball in her hand. She was just a normal looking 50 year old lady blasting ambient tunes.

I walked in the living room, which was impeccably clean. Candles, tarot cards and crystals sat on the coffee table as she told me to have a seat.

“I want to help you,” she began. My love life was at risk. Men leave me. It’s something to do with me, not with them. I need to cleanse myself and have her perform her work so I can find my true love. The last man I was with still cares for me, and she could help to bring him back.

I stopped her, “But . . . I don’t want him back.”

“Yes you do.”

“No,” I insisted. “He wasn’t for me.”

“There was love there.”

I tried not to giggle, “There was chemistry there. But, it didn’t work for a reason. We’re friends. Kind of. That’s all.”

She nodded. “There will be someone else coming into your life. I can help you with this too.”

She told me that she could give me things to bathe in and she would light candles and bless me. She told me that all of this would ensure that whatever is wrong with me would be fixed. That my true love would want to be with me. That, right now, I am forgettable. If she helped me, no man would ever forget me again.

And all of this could be done for a mere $350.

I shuddered.

“It’s a small price to pay,” Danielle told me.

“Really, I’m a poor graduate student. My car payments, my health insurance, my tuition . . . I work one day a week. I couldn’t possibly -”

“I will work with you,” Danielle assured me. “Why won’t you let me help you? How much can you pay? I really want to help you.”

She finally got down to $100, but I still couldn’t justify this to myself. I realized what she was doing. She was making me feel bad about myself and believe that the only way I’d ever find true love and happiness was to pay her this money and trust that these candles and soaps and crystals would help me. I left with her telling me that I would call her. That I would see that I needed her. I again thanked her for the candles, got into my car, and didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.

I’m no expert on psychics. Sure, I read my horoscope every now and again, but I have no idea what house my moon is in or any of that stuff. So, now I’m left wondering. Was she feeding me BS? Should I fork over the hundred to save my love life? Am I really and truly doomed otherwise??

Are any of you on the up-and-up about this kind of stuff? Am I crazy for even considering going back and forking over the money (that I don’t have)? Do I just keep blaming a series of unfortunate events for the lack of love in my life? Or do I have to start taking some real initiative in the form of blessed oils??

Help!

The end.

Or, is it?

*Name has been changed

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