My life has been a constant hell. I live in a state of perpetual friction, the anger of loud voices, the slamming of closing doors. When will it ever end? Where did the love and respect go that we held for one another such a short time ago?
I loved her fiercely at one time. She was my entire focus. I was dedicated to her. We met in an unusual way, over the Internet. However, today that seems to be the norm for a lot of relationships. I created loving images in my head of her before ever meeting. I spoke with her by phone and grew to love her voice before we ever saw each other. We would spend hours talking with one another and forming a bond that grew stronger day by day. We had so many interests in common that we could talk without repeating ourselves for hours on end. I grew to where I couldn't wait to hear her voice on the phone or to see her writing to me on line.
Eventually we agreed to meet in person. I was so nervous. Would she find me not to be the person that I portrayed in our conversations? Would she still be attracted to me? Would she like what she saw? Would I be a disappointment to her? At the same time, I had to ask myself what if the image I created in my mind was far superior to the person I was to meet. Finally, the time came and we set the meeting up so that we could spend a whole weekend together, just getting to know one another better.
I was so anxious that I could barely eat or sleep as I counted off the days until she arrived. I must have gone through my closet dozens of times selecting and rejecting different shirts and slacks that I would wear while she was here. Finally, I decided on just my plain old jeans, regular tee shirts and my ever-faithful hikers. Forget all the fancy clothes. She would just have to accept me as I am.
I was stunned when I finally met her. She was everything that I always wanted in a partner. She was classy, outgoing, intelligent, and so very confident. I was drawn to her immediately. I could tell she was attracted to me also. She would reach out and touch me ever so often as if to see if I were real or not. All the touching was a turn on for me. I was trying to be so good and not push the relationship at this point but a body can only take so much when someone's hand are constantly flitting over sensitive areas. She would lean into my chest as we walked along the river. I would circle my arm around her and draw her tighter to me. I could feel the strong sexual attraction that was forming between us.
Although she only stayed the weekend, by the end of the first evening we had succumb to our desire to deepen the relationship by making love with one another. The old adage I have died and gone to heaven applied here. She made me want to pleasure her for hours on end. The simple touch of her hands on my body nearly drove me over the edge. We could kiss for hours and never get enough of each other.
Well, as with all relationships, we decided to carry ours to the next level. She asked if I would move to her hometown and live with her. She stated that she had fallen madly in love with me and couldn't stand to see the long distance relationship continuing.
I packed up my meager belongings and my dog and moved to her hometown and into her house. She immediately opened her bedroom to me as she wanted to live as a couple and not simply as friends.
I was flattered. She wanted my company and attention all the time. I rarely met her friends and saw only my colleagues at work. She filled my waking time demanding attention from me. When I went out, she was always with me. If I ran to the store after cigarettes, she came along. If I needed to go to the grocery store, she tagged along with me. I didn't dare try to leave the house without her knowing, she wanted so desperately to be with me all the time. Over time, I realized I was becoming her obsession.
Several months passed and suddenly I found that I could never leave the house without her unless I was going straight to and from work. I couldn't meet my friends after work for a drink or she would hunt me down, show up and create a totally embarrassing scene, accusing me of running around on her. I could never talk on the phone without her demanding to know who I was talking to and why was I talking to anyone on the phone. She never let her friends come over and certainly never encouraged me to invite my friends to what I believed to be our home. When had our love changed from tender loving care to insane obsession? I missed something along the way or else I had my head stuck in the ground so deep I didn't see the changes until they were so entrenched I didn't know what to do.
I fell out of love with her, simple as that. She drove the love away with her bizarre, violent behavior. There were times when she would fly off the handle over some insignificant remark I would make about a co-worker. She would rant and rave, and throw objects at me, hoping that I would not be able to dodge them in time to keep from being hit. Eventually the screaming and tantrums were not enough and I saw her begin to resort to physical violence with me. At first, it was a single slap across the face if I dared to oppose anything she said. I tried to justify her behavior by thinking it was really something that I must have provoked thus I deserved to be hit. I went out of my way to avoid making her angry.
My actions only worsened the situation. The more I withdrew the more violent and paranoid she became. I felt like I was living in a war zone with land mines scattered all around me so that any step I took the potential to be blown up was ever present. I began to sleep poorly as no sooner would I go to sleep then she would start taunting me with all kinds of things to wake me up. First, it was loud music or the television blaring at full volume. Then it was water being slung into my face as I slept. Finally, she would throw objects at me, waking me several times a night so that I was so tired I could barely function at work. I questioned what had I done to give her the motives to continually taunt me. I must have not given her what she needed. I must not have loved her enough.
There was no longer any love between us. It was dying a slow, violent death. We had not touched each other sexually for months. Yet, I couldn't make myself leave her house. I simply could not walk out that door. She needed me in some capacity, I just couldn't figure out what it was. I had to be there for her, she couldn't do this all by herself. Or so that is what I kept telling myself. I am beginning to think that I am truly crazy. I can't seem to move on out of this mess that we are living in. The violence grows steadily but if I stay maybe it will lessen. If I stay and focus on her, maybe she'll change back into the woman I fell in love with. I can tolerate the degradation of my character a little longer. Name calling will never hurt me. If I walk with care I can prevent her from raging in anger and hurting me. I know I can. She needs me. Maybe I still need her. I just don't know at this time.
So I will tolerate the yelling and slamming for awhile longer. I will try to reason with her, to discover whether we can rebuild what we had between us. I will not be a quitter, again. I will be here for her. Surely she won't really hurt me worse that what we have already gone through. Maybe if I tell myself enough times, I will convince myself that I am doing it for all the right reasons, not simply that I have no place else to go. She is all that I have in the world. I can't leave at this time. I can never make it on my own. Now the question really lies, will I make with her?
Feedback welcome: email@example.com
Copyright © 2003 by Shadylady. All Rights Reserved