Waiting

I’ve been meaning to write.

I have so many things I wish to write about, but instead of relieving these pent up thoughts and feelings onto paper, which I would prefer, I just talk them out, to friends, girlfriends, therapists, co-workers, and the like.

My life is quite crazy.

I wish I could go into all the stories with the endless details they deserve, but that would require an exhaustive effort on my part, and intense concentration, to recall all the necessary events and feelings and thoughts. And then would come the task of contextualizing them in a greater narrative.

In short, I was in a relationship with a 35 year old from June 2013 until May 2014. We technically broke up in March, but we continued seeing eachother and sleeping with one another. She’s a sweet woman, without a bad bone in her body. The guilt I carried as I began dating other women weighed on me immensely, and we had a falling out. Around the same time I was dating and sleeping with several women. Probably a dozen or so. One of them was a particular creature of mystery and allure. She possessed a heart so distant and isolated, yet a sophistication and worldliness that was so familiar, that I was slowly captivated.  We saw eachother for about 6 weeks before we had sex, which was quite awhile for me. But two of the middle weeks I was in Europe.

About two weeks after we had sex, I decided that I wanted to be in a committed relationship, and discard all the other flings and otherwise distracted preoccupations. She was active, intelligent, exciting, charming, and, like I mentioned, possessed a distance. My intuition told me there was much she wasn’t telling me, but that granted me a subliminal permission to omit things of my own past, such as the swinging and endless casual sexual encounters.

I wanted her. She was the one. I told her I was keeping her. She was delicate, yet fierce. I don’t want to get into all the detail now, but I always possessed an uncertainty about her. I was quick, however, to make excuses for her, telling myself she was a wounded creature, that her abusive alcoholic father, and cold distant and rigid mother were central in producing her cold affect that was seemingly impossible to warm for much longer than minutes.

Long story short, she constantly suspected me of cheating. I always denied it, but it raised some suspicions of her own infidelity. She spoke to her ex, whom she had known for four years, who was 50 years old, and kept in contact with her family, his daughter who was her age, and he sister. She spoke of him far too often, but I chose to ignore it, hoping it would go away as our relationship improved.

She also worked very closely with an older investor, who was helping her with her real estate career. I found it very odd that they possessed this working relationship, as she had no immediate value and experience to bring to a seasoned professional wealth advisor.

Her constant accusations of my infidelity lead me to suggest breaking off the relationship, or go to relationship counseling. Our initial sessions were all about me. I broke down, cried, confessed to texting some women here and there. In my mind, this was nothing serious. I never physically cheated. Women would text me, and I would respond. And I would occasionally text women, sending promiscuous photos. This is wrong, absolutely. But I never maintained a romantic relationship. It was a product of boredom, and perhaps a symptom of my own doubts and insecurities about her relationship with certain men that she insisted were innocuous. I broke down again and again, in front of her, and the counselors, and all the while, as I confessed to texting, and even giving her my phone, she said not a word about herself, and her own issues. When I confessed to having a harmless lunch with an ex, she confessed to “fucking” her 50 year old ex boyfriend. At first she was this was because of all the pain and self doubt I was causing her due to her suspicions. At one point she said it was because she wanted to piss off his daughter, who did not approve of their relationship. I found that response fucked up. (She said he practically raped her. And when I talked to him a month later, he said it was purely consensual.) The day after she confessed to fucking her ex, she said she lied, and said it to “give me a taste of my own medicine”. When she told me that, I told her I didn’t want to see her anymore. She was at a work function, and drove 2 hours to walk into my house uninvited, and told me “this is not how we are breaking up”. I told her she had a lot of nerve, that she’s sick for cheating, or even telling me she cheated just to teach me a lesson, and that I needed a break. We went to counseling the next day. Before we went, she compiled me a booklet about survivors of sexual abuse. About trust. About abandonment. About what to expect from being in a relationship with these people. In the final sleeve she included a hand written letter declaring that she believed in us, that she loved me, that she wanted me, that she wanted us, and that we would work through this together, that nothing was too big to work through, and that she loved me endlessly.

Despite that semi-productive session, I felt at ill-ease. My intuition told me there was something bigger that I wasn’t seeing. Things weren’t adding up. I couldn’t sleep.

Finally, after losing 15 lbs in a week, not sleeping more than an hour or two a night, and watching my work performance dramatically slack, I called off work for the rest of the week, and told her I need to know everything. I had drank half a bottle of Scotch when she came over. I was emotionally drained, tired, famished. I immediately asked for her cell phone, which she gave to me. I began looking for evidence of cheating. Which I found.

She had been sleeping with this investor for money (she told me she would do him favors and he’d pay her $300-600 a week, such as looking at homes to buy, and going to the zoning office). She had cheated on me with this 50 year old ex who lived in DC. I was floored. Floored that not only had she been cheating on me (with at least these two), but that she had made me feel so bad about myself for my actions, that she showed no sympathy, no pity, no remorse. As this unfolded, she was completely emotionally unaffected. The more emotionally uncontrollable I got, mostly in an effort to get a reaction out of her, the more cold and distant she became. I had screen shot her photos and text conversations with men and others mentioning me and her relationships, and sent them to myself. All while she was clawing for her phone back, and I was crying like a baby. I finally gave her cellphone back and woke up a 1am in a haze, and filled with anger and resentment. I got on my phone and drunkenly messaged these images and text conversations to her mother, sister, brother in law, ex-boyfriend, best friend, her best friends boyfriend, and her “boss”, who I suspected she might have a relationship with. Why? I don’t know. I was blacked out.

When I woke up the next morning she was livid, but told me if I apologized to everyone, she would forgive me. She insisted that we see eachother at least once a week while we both got therapy and counseling. I thought this was ludicrous, that I needed time apart. She said she feared abandonment. I said I needed space for my own mental and emotional health.

Her best friend contacted me crying. She said her boyfriend had broken up with her. I had learned that when I told her boyfriend about what had happened between my ex and I, that she had cheated on me and was sleeping with people for money, little did I know that she met her best friend through escort/ prostitution, and that her best friend had a prostitution charge that her boyfriend knew about, and was always concerned about, as he suspected that she would continue it. Her best friend pleaded with me to talk to her boyfriend, to tell him she had stopped the lifestyle, that my ex had lied to her about stopping. I told her to tell me everything about my ex. She did. I learned how my ex was an escort and gave men massages for money, and the ones she liked and had money, she would sleep with. Her investor was one of these clients. She switched careers into real estate, and was leveraging him to help her establish her career.

I confronted my ex, and told her to tell me everything. She would tell me more, and I would press for more and more. I gathered a very interesting picture of this girl. About her childhood sexual abuse by her father, how her mother sent her to an all girls reform outdoor school during highschool. How she lived with abusive boyfriends who liked watching her have sex with other men (Bubba or Joshua was the name of the person who apparently introduced her to the life. Although she insists she was just tired of being broke, and signed up for sugardaddy.com, where she met her ex, talked with other women on the website, and was introduced to escorting through another connection that would market her on backpage and other websites.)

After I spoke with her about all these new developments, I felt a sense of clarity and relief, but I was still uneasy. Her 50 year old ex contacted me and warned me to stop meddling with her family (due to the pictures I sent), “or else”. We got into a conversation, and much of what he knew corroborated. He told me of her most recent ex “P” who she slept with for a number of years, who was married with children, who lied about his name. I found a photo of a note he wrote her on her phone that looked as if it could have been written by me. Just the reaction to lies, and emotional devastation that was wrecked as she played with him. Granted he lied. He said he wanted to build a life together, leave his family, etc.

Anyway. She told me she would stop sleeping with her investor, but that she couldn’t stop talking to her ex, especially because I wanted to leave her, and she would have no one. She loved him, but was “in love” with me.

Long story short, she’s crazy. And a pathological liar. There’s so much more.

We stopped talking for a couple months, and I dated other women to rebound. We started talking again, but each time we meet, I just sense lied and deceit. I can’t distinguish between what is factual or not. She distorts the past. She told me she only slept with her investor towards the beginning of our relationship, but stopped. But at the time this was all unfolding, she spoke like she was still sleeping with him, and that she had enough to support herself without giving him sex. She refused to stop working with him, thought.

Long story short, I don’t know why I still talk to this girl. She’s sweet, and charming, and I connect on a variety of levels with her, but she’s literally a pathological liar. I told her I think she’s a sociopath, and I still believe it, but she was so insulted that she blew up on me, telling me its so offensive, that she cares for friends, that she has a dog, etc. That she couldn’t possibly be. But its the lying. Its her constant reference to “keeping secrets”, it’s the seemingly endless chaos of drama, of love triangles, of sexual promiscuity.

Granted. Am I perfect? Hell no! Did I mess up? Hell yes! Am I sexually promiscuous? You bet. But I have no desire to hurt people. To deliberately deceive. To manipulate for gain.

There’s more, but I need to get back to work.

I needed to give a general overview just to reaffirm why I need to continue blocking her and remove her from my life. My current agenda to maintain friendly relations with her is… quite frankly, ridiculous. I can’t get past the cognitive dissonance. My mind doesn’t feel at ease buying all she tells me. And what would I get from it? What does she bring to my life? She constantly tells me I’m no better than her, and brings up my past, about how I hurt her so bad. It’s all ridiculous in my opinion.

She has this sense of entitlement. “You know what was one of the things that pissed me off the most during our relationship?” she would say. “That you never held doors for me.” I always held doors! What are you talking about?! “Not car doors.” That’s ridiculous. When we went on dates, I’d get the door. Do I get the door to every casual outing? No. It’s silly. Where do you draw the line? She commands this level of treatment, and gets incredibly pissed when she doesn’t receive it.

Anyway. She’d traumatized me. I need to move past it. No contact, once and for all.

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