(These ramblings add to our content, but not very interesting.)
What an ugly fate for such a sweet dream. A shame that I had to kiss this one good-bye. Oh, for a while, I’ll have to live with its Hell. She seemed like a breath of fresh air. I should have seen it coming when she brushed off that first compliment. What part hurts the worst of all? I saw it way too late. Something was eaten deeper into her than I could ever dig long before her eyes stopped flirting with mine. Love truly is blind.
See, we were one of those fairytale couples. Amazing how something so random as a typo can lead to us places we’d never normally be. In the early days of August, she happened onto that dating site, then sent a message my way. It turned into an encounter between one who was there by pure chance, and one who’d given up on love. Was it fate? Faith? Circumstance? Did it really matter? Seemed almost natural that we were destined for something right.
Love’s supposed to grow over time, I heard. It puts down roots some of them. Our profiles said we just looking for friends, so we stayed at a “penpals” level. Guess were both kind of shy. She and I traded e-mails, ten a day sometimes, for almost a month. Seemed kind of funny, ten days and thirty-seven e-mails after she sent that first message, when she worried I might think she was stalking me. Stalking is unwelcome attention. Hers was welcome. Between the lines of oh, so many messages, the message seemed almost clear enough. Could it be she was interested too?
Instinct is something I didn’t trust. Love hasn’t always been kind to me in the past. It took a nudge from a friend to steer me in the right direction. Even today, I’m grateful for that nudge. It was in the dawn of September when we met for the first time. She was just so refreshing and new. There was a simple innocence in her I’d never encountered before: a comfort, a trust, a certain something. We traded magic the very instant our eyes met and we shared that first long embrace. She told me I’d won her when I first called her “Babe”.
There were obstacles – kidneys, Court and a jealous ex being the worst. We stuck together. The monster who was her husband filled a few letters. “How long is he going to wait?” was the theme of a few more. “For as long as you’re the pot of gold at the end of this rainbow” I replied. In two dates, and an incredible volume of e-mail, feelings grew fast. Some, maybe too fast….
How can I ever forget the trail of our peeled-off clothes between my couch and the bed? Though clues were many in our e-mail trade, It wasn’t planned. All it was going to be was a late September weekend getaway from her stress. Her glow brightened my next many weeks. For the next month-and-a-half, we lived in bliss. In reflection, there were signs too – signs I should have noticed when she stalked her prey (a certain rival of sorts) through the forums. I’m so guilty of reading silence as acceptance, and a smile as “all is right”.
We were two lonely people who fell in love at first sight. Babe and I lived an emotional high, made big plans, and rushed toward the goal of a fairytale. It was just within our reach. Somewhere along the way, we must have bypassed that “best friends” stage. My friendliest guess is she got scared. What couldn’t she tell me about? Soon, she who urged me on was she who accused me. It was too late for me to put on the brakes without at least one of us getting hurt.
In reading through those many letters we traded, in among all the words of love, life and the tomorrows we were going to share, she mentions feeling depressed. It came just days after that first time we made love. Was it that, or problems at home? Hers did sound very unsettled. Family Court wanted statements from the kids. She was hurt because her son wanted to go live with his father. Conditions in his own home life must have seemed awful desperate if he’d choose an abusive dad over her. The boy really believed she didn’t want him.
Late September and the first part of October we worked around the Court stuff. I found it strange that she didn’t want me there. She was worried about an impression I’d get. Mine was already made. Reality does things to lives. Here was a woman worth all the supporting patience in the world. The only place I could be supportive was via e-mail. It mattered, but I respected her wish.
October and a big way into November, we lived on Cloud Nine. I spent time with her and the kids, and loved every second of it. We announced us to the world – in gratitude and love – all over that dating site’s forums. Late October and early in November, we visited with each other’s parents – her Mom first. Her kids took to me like I really was one of the family. They praised me up to their father whenever he quizzed them about me. She insisted he just wouldn’t let go.
Seems, in the past, whenever a girlfriend dumped him, he was back on her doorstep looking for a way back in. She swears he ruined several of her relationships that way. I promised I would not be so easily driven away. Oddly enough, for a woman who was supposed to have been so terrified and abused, she seemed to push a lot to keep the fight hot. Though words of love never dimmed between us, and our time together was magic, stress always seemed to find its way to her.
When it started to get obvious – like when she flinched if I touched her in her sleep, or in those silent thousand-yard stares – I asked her what was wrong. She excused it as pain from her kidney trouble and fear about her upcoming visit to the city. I’d been in doctor office waiting rooms, ER and that examining room with her. I’d held her hand and hugged the pain away several times. She told the world I was her rock of support. It was easy to accept that response.
Sometimes I wondered if I was with her too much. Deep down, I knew we’d moved too fast. We’d agreed to overnight stays, then a few days, then one week on one week off. We spoke in terms of forever. She never seemed to want me to leave. I always felt like I belonged. Even she called it my home. She promised she’d let me know if it was time for me to go.
When I was at my place, and agreed to come on one day, she’d invite me over one, two, sometimes three days earlier than we’d planned. I truly believed she wanted to be with me as much as I wanted to be with her. Still, there were the hints that we could be together too much. Though I felt like I was getting some mixed signals, I was so sure we had a level of communication where she felt free to say what was on her mind. As long as she didn’t object, I felt welcome.
I can’t put a date on when I saw it happening. Her eyes showed hints of something other than love. Was it guilt? Shame? They’d stopped fixing on mine. About the same time, our open-hearted talks slowed. She didn’t cuddle (face-to-face complete with kisses) before we went to sleep and started dodging the hugs she once so loved.
“What’s wrong?” became an evasive “Nothing”. She’d told me before. Trip to the city is coming up soon – and she’s been in pain. If it was something else, I didn’t hear. I watched and felt the signs. Really hurts to know she wouldn’t speak, when something could have been done – or the heartache of a lingering death might have been softened.
That third week-end in November, we had to cut our last visit to the cottage short. Her son came home stressed and sick from his father’s house. All the way back, she was upset, worried that I’d be mad about it. I understood. Explained, in complete honesty, that I was a bit disappointed, but the kids have to come first. She seemed uneasy, but relieved.
Only thing I can put a date to, and associate it with anything, is November 23. That night, I lashed out in my sleep. I’ve hit many a wall. This time, I hit her! Anyone who’s lived trauma will know what that’s like. I remember she woke, panting in a panic, because the hit scared her so badly. I felt terrible, so guilty about it. She laughed it off a couple of times throughout the day. Said it didn’t matter. Even she’s kicked me in her sleep. It happens.
Thing is, in every letter after that (yes, we did leave little love e-notes for each other) “I love you now and forever” was just a simple and chilly “love you”. Her mood took a dark turn that day. That night was the first without a good-night kiss. In the very early hours of morning, I woke in pain. I don’t know if I cursed the ache or shushed the dog as I got out of bed. She came downstairs shortly after and demanded to know if I’d called her “bitch”.
Things came to a head the next day. She was in a particularly bad mood. I asked her if I should go home – meaning does she need some distance? We were, after all, together better than half the time. She heard that as a threat to break up with her. Angry, she accused me of playing head games. She would tell me when she wanted me to leave. To add to my confusion, the very next day, she told me she needed some space. Bottom was coming up fast….
Several times, I watched as this girl who was supposed to be so much in love with me accessed her ex’s e-mail and dateline accounts, messed with his profile and deleted messages from potential dates. She didn’t try to hide what she was doing. It was like a family game. She claimed it was so much fun to play headgames with him because he was supposed to be such an abusive person.
Why would she be trying to keep him from meeting someone if she was so adamant about keeping him out of her life? I felt like I didn’t even matter. It hurt me to the core. I asked her one day if she was going to pay me as much attention should the time come that we end things too. There was a day she found her sister’s address in his list. She deleted it, then even went so far as to phone and make accusations. All the while, her ex was still getting mail at her address.
After that, some previous banter about views from her webcam – and a comment that she forwarded to me from some gaming friends about a “threesome” while she was in the city – what was on her computer screen became a touchy subject. All of a sudden, a pastime we’d shared since we started seeing each other became “crowding her” and invading her privacy. She avoided affection – the biggest reason we fell into each others’ arms in the first place. Excuses were being made of why we couldn’t have together time – things that hadn’t been issues at the beginning….
Late in November, I was bracing for the end. The romance was fading fast. She just seemed to care less and less about us. This wasn’t the lady I’d fallen in love with. I wondered if I was giving her enough, or if it was worry about her medical issues. To ask only brought increasing anger. To show, brought fire. I was hearing how she only asked me to stay because she felt guilty when I went home and sorry for me that I was there alone. Where once, I could speak openly, now I had to pick and choose my words carefully, for they would be used out of context against me.
Her ex refused to take the boy while she was in the city. In that early December week we were gone, he was showing up at her house, jealous and cursing her out. That caused a lot of stress in the kids, and in her. I’d seen her mean streak in several e-mail attack/retaliations with him, then a cyber assault on a forums drama queen. Now, accusations she heaped on me were getting spiteful. I was a controller, possessive, jealous, untrusting, pushy, selfish. Interesting, I’d seen all of those behaviours in her already.
It really felt like she just kept me around for the ride to that distant medical centre, and to be her protector and tour guide while we were there. It was just a week before, she’d ordered me to leave. Doctor stuff or not, I was still her rock – brave and feeling for her. The mood was tense all the while we were there. She promised a “honeymoon” during our time away. For the first time, we didn’t make love. We had sex.
The week before Christmas, she sent me home again. We had a blow-out about how she stalked her ex-husband online, how he seemed to know so much about our personal life (not stuff the kids would know) and how she seemed to be so obsessed with him. “If you want the SOB so bad, go back to him!” Too much truth may have been coming to light. A friend’s name spoken from my sleep, sometime weeks before, means I’m cheating? I wondered if she was looking for all the things she hated about him in me, and was finding them. His pet name for her? “Babe”….
Christmas, at her sister’s, some family talk about her ex and a comment about stalking upset her. All the holiday, I felt the need to talk. Some things from our last time together still bothered me. We just couldn’t get the time. She read a voice raised in pain and frustration as a temper. Now, she was accusing me of trying to be more important to her than her kids! There was no point in going on. You can’t reason with the unreasonable. As I left, I told her: “Have a nice life.”
A day later, she said she needed some time alone to think. It’s not all her fault. I’ll accept my part of the blame. That hit in the night shouldn’t have mattered. It seems like it woke something more than just her though. Frankly, I didn’t recognize the brake lights. That’s my biggest mistake. Our interpretations of the word “space” must have different meanings. My response to cold shoulder is to believe I’m not giving enough. Clingy isn’t a pretty thing to a lady who’s second-guessed a dream and started to feel like she’s being pushed.
The name-calling, the accusations, the silence, the failing affections – they only hurt. She claimed I hadn’t let go of my past. What did she expect me to think about stalking her ex? It’s all okay if it’s her? That killed it. All I had to go on was experience. God forbid, now I had to dig into past relationships to analyse this one. My frustration frightened her because both her father and her ex-husband were abusive – and now she worried about what I said in dateline forums.
I couldn’t get any answers from her. She was already gone, so what did I have to lose? Writing is therapy, and on those forums you get feedback. I didn’t want “poor you” and sunshine. I needed some hope, yet I didn’t want us to be identified. We were a well known couple. Our story, love at first sight, was magic to a lot of people there. In a pseudonym, I thought I could keep a low profile. Some details were changed or added, but the issue stayed intact. I asked what I had to.
A friend of hers saw it (coincidently, that same friend who’d nudged us together) and recognized it. Seems she knew more about us than I was told. She must have some good details – or I didn’t add enough cover. Milady was bothered more by the stuff I used to disguise her from the world than she was the problems I addressed. There was no proof I wrote it. Accusations were laid. I denied. Somehow, I hoped she’d care enough to read closer and understand the meat of the story – our story: What did I wake up that night?
It was wrong for me to deny it, and the whole thing just sort of got harder and harder to get out of. A few days later, she said she’d drop it. What’s done is done, but I knew, and so did she. It always would have been there, unresolved. I admitted to it. Had to. The guilt was eating me up. It wouldn’t matter what I spoke in my own defence. Her mind would not be swayed. That name from a dream was someone real. I lied.
My neighbour is a nurse at the local psychiatric hospital. As a friend, she hurt to see me in tears. She knew about my heart condition, and worried about my colour. Seemed pretty obvious to her that I was under a lot of stress. She gave me a shoulder to cry on, and an ear to bend. I told her what I’d done. She didn’t like it, but understood why, and liked the anonymous way I posted it.
I just couldn’t make head nor tails out of what this lady I love was saying in chat. I felt guilt, because I knew she was right – I was lying. But, accusations about so many other things at once (all in MSNese, odd spelling and icon) confused the hell out of me. My friend read the transcripts with me just so she might understand better – and got a very a balanced perspective. She seemed to think Milady was “a bit crazy.”
Yes, it was a violation of trust in showing private messages to someone else. I feel my shame. It wasn’t done out of malice or to get gossip, though. My friend is a professional. She read only pertinent information, as therapist and as an interpreter. This lady I love is a very private person. She is embarrassed that someone else knows. Apparently, it was okay for her friend though….
Later, she created a thread to get some advice, but not in the same way. She didn’t believe we were so known, and posted in her own identity. In that thread, she made the same accusations in public that she had to me in private. It hurt, but I was going to leave it alone. My friend knew the whole story. She posted as neutrally as she could. In a second post, she revealed she’d seen the chat transcripts (without revealing details) and called her out on some of her own fibs.
Even I received a couple of e-mails about that thread. It proved my point that we were a well known couple, so it partially justified my use of an alias. In one, I was accused of being an abusive bastard and how could I do such a terrible thing to such a sweet girl. In another, we were inspirations to all single people. What happened?
I posted a very public apology and an explanation for what I’d done. Essentially, it was the same letter I sent to her. She was very annoyed that I’d “hijack” her thread and demanded to know “who the hell is she?…” (my friend) Then, she called. There was a lot of confusion and accusations about my friend. No matter how I tried to explain, it wasn’t getting through. I suppose when one is the measure they gauge others by?…
We both had a big part in this thing, and I really hoped we could get over it. Long and the short of it is: It messed up, and she was so busy condemning me she couldn’t (or wouldn’t) see where she did. Outside of her own trust issues, she’s pretty big on she can do no wrong. Heck, she’s only human. If I can admit to my own issues, and seek help with them, why won’t she? Now, how much more honest can a guy get? Too late. The damage was already done.
I’ve had counselling – a lot of counselling. I learned how to deal with my past, to be comfortable with my past, to live with my past, and to speak out my past. I had to dig up my past, confront it, then bury it properly. She keeps hers all bottled up inside of her. That is danger in the making. I wish she’d told me my speaking of yesterdays bothered her much sooner than she did. By then, her mind was already set. Her fear was I’d blow up at her the same way her ex would have.
Over the next couple of weeks, we saw each other twice. Both times, it was almost as if we’d fallen in love again. Hugs and kisses were as warm as ever. “I love you” was still right there in her eyes – but secrets lived in there too. There was something she wasn’t saying. On chat, she was distant and suspicious. I know she was afraid to say much, lest I “tell I to the world”. Seemed obvious she was chatting with someone. She always seemed to tip-toe around anything I dared to ask. No matter what I asked of us, of our relationship, of our future, I was pressing her – disrespecting her privacy.
Then, after we’d closed chat, one night in mid January, I remembered details of my father’s upcoming surgery. I couldn’t remember if I’d told her, so I phoned. She seemed to think I had other motives – like I was checking up on her. In an e-mail, told me that call was just an excuse now what was its real reason? She accused me of being obsessive and, for the third time, told me it was over. Why was she sentencing us to death?
A week later, a day after what she referred to as a “very personal” appointment for her, we met for coffee. That day, on a long drive through the country, we shared some honest and open talk It was the first we’d shared since early November. I sort of had to keep her going. She told me it wasn’t because I was a bad guy, or had those ugly traits she’d painted on me. They were excuses. She was worried because she didn’t know how to tell me how she really felt. Again – she based my reaction on her ex’s sins.
Now, she was afraid of surrendering her independence. I will have to admit, we did move into a forever-type deal fast. We’d only met in very early September. I was a bit uncomfortable too. Initially, she set the pace. Oddest part is, it was that “know what I want and go for it” confidence I found to be her most attractive feature. Thing is, her kids are getting up to the age where the child support will soon be running out. That puts her on a single person’s welfare if she can’t find someone who’ll support her. Is it the control she’s afraid of losing?
On her invitation, Tuesday, that final week-end in January was an intimate one for us. The kids even gave us some together time Friday night. It was warm and inviting – but the magic just wasn’t there. Saturday was friendly enough. Her son was throwing temper tantrums. Teen-agers, eh? As usual, he’d lost his Internet again. The whole family’s addicted, so it causes a scene when she’s “had enough”. He complained about her need to control everything. Sunday, it was time for me to leave. She was distant again.
Back at home, she didn’t want to chat much. Monday, she was chattier. Most interesting was when she asked me to write a witness statement for an upcoming hearing. Of course, I did it without question. I did see what happened, and I promised I would be there for her. Besides, we were attempting to reconcile. I mean, didn’t we just share a passionate week-end? No matter, she made sure all the details were just the way she wanted them.
Throughout that week, the chill settled in again. It was obvious she was busy with someone else on the chatline. One word responses, evasiveness and long delays are dead give-aways. If I asked a anything close to a sensitive question, it was answered by a question. “You busy?” – “Why do you want to know?” I recalled the almost obsessive compulsion with which this “stalker” once e-mailed and chatted with me.
A couple of times, my words got me in trouble. She got into the accusing when she saw I was back on the forums and offering some hope from stuff I’d lived through. She was always threatened by some idea that I couldn’t let go of the past. How could I explain it better for her? My past has passed? It’s the hope each dream from yesterday inspired that’s still alive, waiting to be realized in some special person. I thought it was her. Thursday, when I said something about going offline, it took just a half minute for her to change screen pics to the “bait” pic – the one with lots of cleavage.
That first week-end of February was a kidfree one for her. As a mother, she’d earned it. I wasn’t upset to know she wanted some alone time, just a bit disappointed that I couldn’t share some of it with her. I was accused of being suspicious. Seemed to be following a trend in her ever-increasing worry that I thought she was cheating. If I’d thought that, she’d have been gone. At the same time, I was also beginning to see the things that angered her most were the very things she did herself.
Told her maybe I’d call on the week-end. Her answer: “I might not be home” made me wonder. Did she want to work on this thing or not? Mixed signals are the calling card of something really messed up, and I was getting them in spades from her. Still, I trusted this lady, and told her so. That brought on another barrage of her assumptions and mind-reading. Maybe she was right. Maybe I really was trying to convince myself. How can you trust in headgames and secrecy?
What I do know of her past has me doubting anyone could have a future with her. She’s driven every man who’s ever entered her life away. Case in point: Her last boyfriend left after six months. If she played the same controlling head games with him as she did me, the poor man lived in Hell. Shortly after he left, he married. Obviously, he was feeling desperate in his life with her and set something else up for the escape. Even her son has been verbally abused by her too-sharp tongue. Is it any wonder he wants to go live with his dad?
Saturday, I got the most blatant display of control yet. I’m a writer. Dateline forums are great places to get immediate feedback on your ability to reach hearts. At the same time, I can feel like I’m speaking with someone who cares. I might be able to offer up some helpful wisdom that just might ease someone out of a world of hurt. The topic was relationships that hit the bakes. Very up close and personal – for both of us. Again, I wanted to keep her name out of it.
I used another alias, and offered from recent experience. Thought, this time it would be out in the open when I told her about it. Just a day or so before, I’d caught hell for not telling her about those other things I posted. First, she accused that I was just attention-seeking and looking for pity. Next, she went into a grilling about did I love some ex-girlfriend or not. Then, she worried everyone online would put two and two together and think it was about her.
A month before, she said I was crazy for suggesting the same thing. There really is no way besides her way of pleasing her. I caught hell again. Reality hit me like a brick. In her eyes, I can do nothing right. Her son said it. She IS a total control freak! Without some help, there’s no way it can ever work. February 4, five months to the day from that day in September we fell in love at first sight, I gave up all hope of any sort of relationship with that woman. For the rest of the day, I just cried to my guitar.
That night, I took her suggestion. I wanted to see if other people thought I was hanging on to the past in sharing experiences from it. They’re only memories, offered to let a troubled person know they aren’t alone. Generally, folks seemed to be comfortable with it – as long as the story wasn’t simply airing dirty laundry. Most felt if someone felt threatened by an anonymous story, then that person probably had issues and should seek some help. Me and my big mouth.
Throughout the day, it collected some answers that didn’t agree with hers. That afternoon, my now-ex’s friend (in a pseudonym) responded. She identified herself as the person who’d got us together, then proceeded to parrot accusations – directly to me – about things she’d only heard from someone else. Would it have been too easy for this dream gone wild to just let it go like she always thought I should do? Not when you’re driven by spite.
This poster accused me of stalking my ex, harassing her, threatening her, yelling at her about her kids and various other outright lies. Malicious gossip at its worst! Then, my ex joined into the “debate”. Their assault wasn’t even co-ordinated. They conflicted with each others’ tales. Several members pointed out they had just proven my point in a public forum – but it was still more than enough to paint me the bad guy. It was reported to site administration.
I have the chat transcripts. My phone records will bear me out that I did not call “every ten or fifteen minutes” all week-end, and just that once Sunday – despite the ex’s charges that my number was on her call display. To my knowledge, she doesn’t even have Call Display.
Wednesday and Thursday, in her dateline name, the ex’s friend posted snipes to a couple of my posts to keep the fire hot. What is so hard about letting go in people with a lust for control? Again, I reported it to site moderators. She’s very clever with creative manipulations of fact. As a result, her and her friend got me banned from posting – my means of letting go.
Through my report to site administration, the dateline was aware she frequently accessed her ex’s accounts, vandalized his profile and deleted e-mails from ladies he’d met online. His profile was self-deleted. I sent him warning to change his passwords. Did the site tell him more? Has she been caught at this before? They’re questions to which I won’t get answers. Through a deletion error, she contacted me Sunday. Now, she accused he’d been over and beat her up because of it. I can’t believe her any more, but if it really happened, I felt terrible – until her last words rang home.
Heart meds don’t make for great libido. In the heat of magic, everything is perfect. At the start of this dream, it wasn’t a problem. Faith in a partner is a tonic. As the fire went from her eyes, it was. Believe me, it wasn’t her – as a woman. It was the cruel and mean games that woman was playing. Hers tore the confidence from several men. Mine started tearing that evening a longing gaze made her guilty. Why’d she feel accused in these eyes? Now, words of a lady who’d sworn her love for me said: “What good are you to any woman? You can’t even get it up.” Is that a little spiteful?…
Following a review, the ban was lifted. I posted my opinion to a board that asked if it was considered cheating if someone played around if they knew the relationship was ending. Maybe she felt her guilt when I responded: the decent thing to do would be end the relationship first, or he/she would just rubbing a soon-to-be ex’s nose in it – and yes, it would be cheating. As usual, to her mind, everything I posted was about her. Vanity got me banned again. Did I get my answer?
I couldn’t believe the crap she pulled on me in her very public display of drama. Wonder what she thought that school-girl stunt really proved aside from temporarily discrediting me in her mind. Really, it seemed to me she would stop at nothing to crush me. For what? All I’d done was love her. What was next on her agenda? It had to be stopped. I had to get the cops involved.
She’s got big trouble ahead of her yet. I’m her only witness to mistreatment at the hands of her urologist. She got a statement January 30, but it was sent on e-mail. She copied it and pasted it into Word. It’s not signed, so if the doctor disputes it – and I know he will – she still needs a witness. Owing to the fact that we were broke up, I was no longer her boyfriend. A first year law student can figure out it was obtained by sexual favour. I’d still testify – just as I promised – but I won’t lie to help her win her case. She’s just not worth the trade-off.
Am I hurt? I was. That’s fading fast. I don’t hate her or anything. In fact, a sweet taste from the autumn we loved will probably linger a while. I can’t have anything to do with her and I’ll never trust her again. One day, she’ll realize what she’s lost. Her latest bout of mania seems to coincide with the fact her ex’s g/f is pregnant. Now, I kiss the dream goodbye. Have a nice life, Babe….
That girl I was supposed to meet?… Well … won’t be happening. Can’t say it comes as any surprise. I mean … she was upfront about some sort of emotional disorder … and I was a bit cautious about it (especially when it comes with a twenty-pill-a-day bandage) What can it hurt to go have coffee with her? I figured, as long as I don’t get involved, I can’t get hurt. Seems when I bed ’em … they go nuts. Didn’t have to this time….
We traded e-mails for a week … and chatted a couple of times. More we spoke … the weirder she sounded. Get this … because I had a “near-death experience” way back when (and all this time … I thought I was just ‘cold-conked’) … and she had one just a little over a month before mine … she believes our spirits left our bodies and crossed somewhere out there in the neitherworld.
Hmmm … we’ve already met!… Well, early this morning, there was no long e-mail … in answer to mine at night. I sent her a short message … thought her server was down again. I was blocked. Think she did me a favour.
I’ve been having some fun on the dateline forums…. Fact … the forums are a great way to get rid of a lot of hurt. But, man, it is way too easy to get yourself into trouble! Told you about that nutty one…. Well, Saturday night, I posted a response to a girl’s lament about being rejected because she showed some guy online her picture. The one in her profile was nice. Almost what you’d picture for someone called “MM” … just a little plump and very pretty. She said it had just been taken a little while ago … so it was recent.
She responded my forum post … and said she’d tried e-mailing me… but my setting was for local (within 50 miles) She’s from the City … so outside my restriction. Well … I reset it. City’s not THAT far away for a pretty girl. Right away, we went on the dateline chat … then to MSN. Within her first ten lines, she offered me things I wouldn’t even be bold enough to ask for from someone I’d been with for a lot of years! I’m not on this thing for cyber sex.
Not much to do in the wee hours of a Sunday morning in a small town … especially when pain won’t let me sleep and there’s nobody to hug. I flirted for awhile … and heard a lot of strange and exotic things. Around 3, it was time to shut down and try the sleep thing. She pounced me online as I opened MSN to check e-mails later on in the day. It was the same sort of thing as the night before.
All that out of such a pretty face! Told her I wasn’t comfortable with cyber. She did say she wanted someone to love her … so we started talking nice. Every so often, though….
Hmmm…. I go to myself when I check her MSN public profile. She calls herself one name to me … but she’s another in here. “MM” or any of her other persona may not be who she wants me to believe … or there’s a lot more than she wants folks to know….
She was back on Sunday night. Man … can she speak a fine web! It was pretty much a rehash of the night before … with promises of how much she really wanted someone in her life. Didn’t stay on long though … because her slipping back into online sex was really starting to bother me. She wanted to Greyhound it here … and do everything for real. Course … it’s all a line of crap, right?… Right? Please, somebody tell me I’m right! Managed to convince her that a five hour bus trip wasn’t going to happen that early in the morning.
She nailed me again when I checked e-mails Monday. Told her I had to pay the rent … so I’d be gone for awhile. I stayed off MSN … but I have some people I chat with from here and back home. While I was chatting with my daughter, she ambushed me again. At least she was patient enough to wait until I was done chatting. That surprised me. Now … me having a pretty girl hot after me is something out of the ordinary. Someone who looks like that normally wouldn’t give me the time of day!
Later … last night … she caught me on MSN again.
Now … I’m starting to get interested. Bad Wolf! *slap-slap* Said she’d be on the 1 o’clock bus … and where should she get the driver to stop. I’d already said I lived over a grocery store … and across the road from a church. That doesn’t mean much to someone who knows city. Here … in this little town … that’s called directions! Then … she asked if I wanted to see her on her webcam.
Already knew what she looked like … but it’s always nice to see the someone’s smile. Wrong thing to do, Wolf! Wasn’t something I ever saw before!… Wasn’t something I ever want to see again either! When I finally DID get to see her eyes … it was her alright … about twenty years and two hundred pounds later! My “MM” looks more like Friar Tuck … complete with the balding plate!
Now … she’s using the appearances thing (my own feel-good words) against me. Really had to do some back-peddling to get out of that gracefully. I don’t like hurting anyone! Finally convinced her that I was still healing from a bad relationship and it wouldn’t be right to get involved in what could only be a rebound thing. She wanted sex. Told her “Jesus would frown if I were to use a fellow human for pleasures of the flesh.”
I’ve had MSN on since 9:00 and haven’t been pounced yet. Maybe thoughts of Jesus and stray lightning bolts from that “church across the street” got MM’s mind off westbound Greyhounds? Never told her which apartment I was in. Hmmmm…. If she didn’t think to turn at the top of the stairs … poor Henry and his meet with a hungry female Friar Tuck might add another interesting chapter to the story of this little town….
This little exchange comes as a result of a topic on dating in small rural towns. Guy from Florida feels like sometimes he’s on a deserted island when it comes to meeting ladies:
“Thanks for the smile, bud…. I live in the same small town … way up here in the Great White North…. You know … the sort of place where the tallest building is the water tower? Bigger disadvantage for me is … the largest percentage of this place is French Catholic (NO for all the pouncers…. NOT a jab!) and I’m an English-speaking person of … well … not the same Faith. Within my POF distance thing and my age preference … the ratio of men to women is 157/70. Of those 70, about 20 are active … and all but one are over 40 miles away. Deserted island?…. Gilligan had better chances!…”
“LW…. Isn’t the church taller than the tower? Oh no wait, you’re right. The tower is taller.
My parents were born and raised there….”
“Hi! Thanks for even knowing where this place is! When you’re coming in from your way, you see the church first. Water tower’s on a hill … so it might be an optical illusion!”
Wednesday: No visitor. <"Whew" wolf exclaims, wiping big beads of perspiration from his worried brow> I hope I convinced her I really was the Big Bad Wolf … though from the sounds of things … she didn’t want me to stick to the script anyhow…. *slap! slap!* Bad Wolf! I stayed off MSN for the most part all evening … after she pounced Wednesday afternoon. Late last night … there was an e-mail from her. Not quite as descriptive … but the ideas were still there. So … I kind of lied. *slap!-slap*
(washes mouth out with soap … watches steeple for stray lightning bolt)
The pretty “MM” has read the Blog … so it seemed like a good out for me. You know … Exit…. Stage left…. Running….
Gave her a BS tale about T and tears … and I’m staying off MSN so she can’t catch me at home. Good cover? This afternoon … there’s another message:
“…But do you really want to have your feelings hurt all over again if you do go back with her ? I know you said you have to do a lot of soul searching. Do you not think she’d do the same thing over again?
Would that mean our fun little chats would have to end also? I guess me going up there might be permanently delayed?
I understand we’d still be friends, and I guess that’s all
I’m ever going to be to anyone 🙁
I just don’t want to see you get hurt again over her. That’s my concern … because you are such a caring and wonderful guy whom I’d hate to see hurt again like she hurt you … but it is Totally Your decision and I hope you make the right one. Know I am here for you no matter what, like I’ve said….”
Nice guilt trip huh?… especially in light of the sad tale of woe I sent. I’ll send her another e-mail after midnight … so she’ll think I was away all day … and tell her that we got back together or something. Tried telling her on the chats that I wasn’t interested in being more than friends. She’s got the smell of something other than that on her … uh … mind. Okay…. I hate lying to anyone…. When she was the cute and slightly plumpish “MM” … I was interested. Then, reality reared its head. That’s pretty deceptive. She was really “Friar Tuck”…. Well, that’s called tit-for-tat … or is it hiding in plain sight?
Back to the small town thing…. That exchange yesterday was continued today. She’s a very pretty 28-year-old girl … married with kids … and not looking for me….
Really too bad that she’s twenty years younger than me … and wants a woman!
I was born and raised in Sturgeon, Lone……and tons of my relatives live there!…”
“…Hi W…. Sturgeon is “big city” from this little town’s perspective (lol)
You couldn’t help but know Verner then … about a mile-and-a-half’s worth of village tucked between Hwy 17 at the foot of the escarpment, and CPR and the mighty river Veuve not a quarter mile to the south….
Work is scarce … so the kids move away to find it. Strong Faith and culture says folks stay married … even in less-than-ideal circumstances. Only when it really gets bad do they leave. Cheating is almost expected. Even so … divorce is frowned upon.
It’s long way to go for counselling … and it’s bad karma to air dirty laundry anyhow. Small town pride says “fix it yourself”. It all means my dating prospects are people with lots of baggage … or widows a generation ahead me.
You brought up another bugaboo of small-town life too. Relatives…. Everyone’s related. I’m an outsider … but not of the culture. Leave a relationship with one … and you’ve insulted the rest of one big family. It’s the same in every small rural town…. I was raised in the same small town in Central Ontario … Kinmount….”
Only a bit of excitement tonight. *sniffle sniffle* “MM” and I broke up….
Got a message from fair damsel, this afternoon, urging me to stay away from the ex because she was just going to hurt me … and she was the one who really deserved me … and the ex couldn’t be as good as her in bed … and … well … I’m sure you can guess the rest.
I ignored the letter … and stayed off MSN until around 10. When I did go online she sent a sullen “hi”. Then, she sent me an e-mail … but wouldn’t chat *sniffle some more*. I replied, saying T and I discussed things … and she’d thought things through and blah-blah-blah….
Then, she opened on chat again. She was grumpy and whining and offering me the best sex I’d ever have and…. Well, you can pretty much guess to what lengths desperate (and horny) women can go…. Told her I intended to give the “relationship” my best effort … and cyber sex is pretty much cheating in my books.
Then she sent another e-mail … basically calling me everything but a white man … and how Nooooo man ever wants me and…. WAAAAAH! I caught her again on chat … and she was nice … then mean … then horny … then ready to kill herself … then…. What a performance!
At one point she YELLED why don’t you just F**K HER! … so I sent back: I DID!… And, for your information … it was darned good too! *slap slap* Bad wolf!
Course … that brought on another e-mail inviting me to shoot her … then do other things with her … and why couldn’t we have cyber sex and…. What a nutbar! She caught me again on chat … and went through the whole cycle again … so I just shut off the chat and blocked her … then blocked her from my e-mail accounts too. Can’t block her on dateline … because she hasn’t sent anything there.
I don’t think I’ll be hearing from her again … but she does know my phone number … and there’s about five westbound Greyhounds a day pass under my window. I don’t have a back door!
That one in Sudbury has family around here … names deleted for obvious reasons…. My response was: “I know both names…. Small town has a certain advantage in giving directions though…. Over the grocery store and across from the church actually means something….”
Her answer was lust a laugh. She is God-awful cute … and I really wouldn’t mind if she followed those directions … just once! But alas, poor wolf, she’s 20 years younger … and I’m not her type.
Now … you figure I’m using my imagination in telling “MM” … er … uh … “Friar Tuck” that T and I did the nasty? What imagination? It happened … just … not yesterday! T’s only screwed with my head for the last little while…. LOL. Still feel a little bad about using her for an excuse … but I think she’d have used me for a lot more than that. My tale is BS repellant.
Blocking “MM” worked. I’ve had no e-mails or chatline bushwhackings … but she does know my phone number … and there’s about five westbound Greyhounds a day pass under my window. Tone of her last message says she *sniffle whimper sniffle snort* doesn’t love me any more. Do I really sound heart-broken?
I’ve been speaking with a lady, on and off for a little while, on those Forums. Seen her profile online many times … over many months. In fact … as far back as when I first started looking on these computer things just after Monique and I broke up. She’s from a nearby village … is actively involved in an industry I have yet to break into. Might be a foot in the door … but I’ve never sent to her. Sort of figured I wasn’t the sort of person she’d ever take an interest in.
She’s posted about how hard it is to meet someone up here in the sticks … how lonely it is being a widow in a big country … how there’s so many guys who just show up and expect her to jump into bed with them … how a lot of the guys are just looking for something on the side … how she feels like she made a wrong decision moving from the West coast….
About three weeks ago, she posted on the Forums how scared she was because they’d found a lump in her breast, and she had to go in for a biopsy. She’s had several health concerns before … and the big ‘C’ puts the Fear in all of us … so she really thought it was her turn. I offered her prayers … but I never heard anything more.
She contacted me through the dateline. She read my profile … and liked what she’d read. Not really on here to find romance … yet. All the same, we exchanged e-mails over the day…. It’s nice to trade some intelligent conversation. Guess I still figure a lady whose got her shit together isn’t going to want anything to do with a guy on Disability.
I don’t think I’ll see that one from the City … but my hair’s gonna stand on end every time the bus slows down for the next little while. She has a good idea where I live. Got a card from her today …. feeling sorry for herself … and for being so mean. Not answering it though…. It would only encourage her. I saw enough behaviour on the chat line to know she’s worse than any of my worst nightmares when it comes to controlling and abusive women. She’ll get over it….
Heard from another girl I’d met online a little while ago. Was kind enough to tell me that she’d met someone …. and was going to pursue it. Sent her a short note offering my congratulations. I heard nothing from her since I told her I was on a disability allowance … so the other fellow probably has more to offer anyhow.
Didn’t hear anything more from my nearby friend for a few days. Thursday, she was back on the Forums again. She’d just come back from the dye test at … and was feeling a bit sick and scared. I posted a little “feel good” message to her thread.
Another one of her threads I’ve been following with some interest is one about her troubles with a stalker. Cops have already had their laugh about mine … and it sounds like her luck hasn’t been much better. There’s got to be some way to deal with this crap.
Today, we chatted quite a few times as she did some offline work … and we both played around on the Forums. At eight Friday evening, I met with a lady who really seems to have her stuff together. We sat at Hortons (always a good safe place to meet) until just before eleven. Has she ever got pretty eyes!… and so green-blue! Bit sad and troubled … and a hint of something not so trustworthy …but they know how to laugh. Didn’t like how she kept cutting me off in conversation though. Control issues? Told her … this is a just friends thing.
It’s a long shot … and I won’t even consider usury … but maybe she can give me some advice on how to get my books published through some of her connections.
Course … as stalkers and cyber adventures go … when I got home, there were two more cards … e-cards … the chink in every block … from that weirdo in the City. How deep can someone wallow into their own self pity?
In the couple of hours I’d been pecking at a really long letter … there were two more cards come in on Hotmail from C … or A … or whatever her real name is….. I responded to one and told her we could be friends and nothing more. Darn! I wish there was a way to block cards on these e-mail things!
That girl I was supposed to meet way back at the beginning? Well … she’s requested to be added to my MSN list again. Why not?… It’s an adventure….
Monday, I went to North Bay with my new friend. She kind of scolded me for hanging onto past relationships. I’m healing … not carrying the pain. I chose to remember the good … and give them their names. How do you explain that to someone who may be a potential match? Height thing hasn’t been that much of an impediment. Really … what does it matter anyhow. I’d already made it clear that all I wanted was a friend. I had no intention of jumping into another relationship just yet. We stopped by my place … where the start of a post was on my computer screen. I told her of my stalker … and how I was going to expose her … and she approved!
I got a few more cards (in various moods and with some very nasty comments) from that one in the City. One … she was planning on catching the bus and showing me her skills. She swears that once I’ve tried her … I’ll “…forget all about that loser you’re seeing now….” By Saturday, she was getting persistent. A rather personal message prompted me set my trap.
I posted a short “history” of my former girlfriend’s woes … sprinkled liberally with hints that we may be getting back together. That evening … the bait took. Just a few hours later, my stalker raged onto my thread with two fire and brimstone speeches of how I was a liar, a fool etc. I rested my case … and she came back with another string. An hour later, and the very next post, she was back with a third identity.
Sunday, I caught heck online from my new friend about exposing my stalker. She assured me she’d said her piece now, and she would let it rest. That evening, we had supper at her place … where she revealed she was an ordained minister. Well … she’s a friend, and a minister too, so her word should almost be gospel. Again, the subject of my stalker came up. She was a bit put out that her problems with a stalker had prompted me to deal directly with mine … considering the attitude of local cops seemed to indicate they thought my problem was a joke. A comment in my stalker’s rag last night of being “clinically depressed” weighed heavily on her mind. It was the first I’d heard of it.
Monday, I got an e-mail from my “friend” about how we could only be friends. She was still upset that I’d set upon this “poor mentally challenged girl” and hurt her chances to find love. Again I told her all I wanted was to be a friend. Then … she publicly slammed me. Revelation of things I’d spoken in confidence to a friend … and a minister … all of a sudden, became public knowledge in a very nasty tirade through the Forums.
There was no point in defending myself. Although I did post some documentation to support my case, I was content to forgive. I certainly didn’t attack her the way she obsessed on me and mixed facts with her own feelings and interpretations through about five threads on the same subject over several days. My chances on the dateline are about shot. I’m a writer … and so is she. Is it jealousy? Have no idea why … considering she’s the published author. Maybe I upstaged her. Her drama queen posts, over many weeks, got her nowhere in shaking her stalker (real or imaginary) … and I’d exposed mine immediately.
Yes … the streets of Verner are silent for now … but here at the Verner Blabb … I’m burning late night oil.
So … how was your day?
Take care out there….