Can't Find a Better Man

The other day, I was at my 6:00 am Spinning class and Better Man by Pearl Jam came on.  Highly focused on my workout at hand, a steep hill climb, I zoned in on the lyrics and really listened to the words for the first time ever (and then I ugly cried, but passed it off as workout sweat):

Waitin', watchin' the clock, it's four o'clock, it's got to stop
Tell him, take no more, she practices her speech
As he opens the door, she rolls over
Pretends to sleep as he looks her over

She lies and says she's in love with him, can't find a better man
She dreams in colour, she dreams in red, can't find a better man
Can't find a better man
Can't find a better man
Oh

Talkin' to herself, there's no one else who needs to know
She tells herself, oh
Memories back when she was bold and strong
And waiting for the world to come along
Swears she knew it, now she swears he's gone

She lies and says she's in love with him, can't find a better man
She dreams in colour, she dreams in red, can't find a better man
She lies and says she still loves him, can't find a better man
She dreams in colour, she dreams in red, can't find a better man
Can't find a better man
Can't find a better man
Yeah

She loved him, yeah, she don't want to leave this way
She feeds him, yeah, that's why she'll be back again

Can't find a better man
Can't find a better man
Can't find a better man
Can't find a better man

I lived this.  I lived this song.  I was in a horribly abusive relationship and I escaped.  Sometimes when I lay in bed with Crush and doze off, I thank my lucky stars that I am lying in bed with him and not with Awful.  I found a better man.

I know everyone out there must be SICK and TIRED of hearing about Awful and hell, I am sick of writing about it, too.  But, I see my breakup with Awful as my rebirth.  I try to lock those memories in a safe and keep them tucked in a storage closet, but once in a while, they creep out.

When I found the strength to get out of that relationship, my world opened up and changed for the better.  I don't think I can ever truly explain how hard it was for me to dump him.  I still sometimes think of myself in amazement because I actually did it. I walked away to save myself. I actually did it.  I gave up a lot to break free: my Independence, some friends and my old job. 

Awful was married a few months ago.  He used to tell me that he needed time to get to know me before he could propose to me.  He had married his ex-wife mere months after meeting her and created a rule that we needed to date for at least 2 years before even thinking about marriage.  I held out for over 2 years.  A proposal was no where in sight for us ever.  He married his current wife less than 10 months after they first met. 

I looked at Awful's wedding photos.  I know I shouldn't have, but once I started, I couldn't stop.  It was like opening Pandora's Box or taking a bite out of forbidden fruit.  I had actually initially introduced Awful to the wedding photographer he used, so even seeing that they were still friends made me realize how far my life has come in terms of social relationships.

Well, I bawled when I looked at those wedding photos.  Not because I was jealous or missing Awful, but because I am sad for his bride.  I can already see some sadness in her eyes, the same sadness I can see in my own when I glance at snap shots from when we were together.  I turned ugly on the inside and outside when I was with Awful.  An abusive man will do that to you.  My mom tells me straight out, "you are getting your looks back now, they went far away when you were with Awful." She's right.  Weight aside, my soul was suffocated for a while and I couldn't even smile though the pain after a time.  It showed on every inch of my face.

I truly believe that Awful will get divorced.  If his wife can find the strength to leave him.  His first wife left him and ran home to her family in another state and I left him almost the same way, fleeing for my life. I was hanging on by a very small thread, I was deeply depressed by the time I made it home to my childhood bed.

The basic fact is that Awful is a very bad person who lies and manipulates others to meander through life.  Once I figured it out, I was shocked.  He comes across as this harmless warm and giving person, but inside he is full of venom and spite.

The clairvoyant who hasn't been wrong about anything yet, told me that Awful would marry first and that he would get divorced again.  That he would marry quickly to prove to me that he actually believes in marriage.   I STILL don't think he really does regardless of his marital status.

I struggle with the notion that some one's garbage can be someone else's diamond when it comes to a mate.  I do believe in compatibility, morals, values, attraction, commonalities and all that other jazz in terms of what makes a relationship tick.  That there is someone for everyone.  A lid for every pot.  But, I also think that if a person is a bad person,  just rotten to their core (which I now believe Awful to be), then nothing can make any relationship (friend, lover, colleague) they are in work because they cannot be true.  Everything Awful does is tainted and calculated.  Bad people make even worse relationships.

And I am not bitter that Awful didn't want to marry me.  Which is clear.  He married someone else quickly and had been married before, so he knows how to take his little frame up and down an aisle.

I am sad.

And that is why I feel.  I feel for her deeply.  For Awful's new wife.  I would extend her my deepest condolences if I could because I know when she said "I do" some of her died.  He is a soul crushing person.  He goes for the weak.  I was so weak when we started dated and as the years passed,  I found my inner strength, my boldness, because the options for me were to leave or to find a much more permanent way out.

Since I have gotten engaged to the love of my life, I feel this peace and safety that I never knew existed.  So this is what TRUE love is all about!?! I can't believe I ever confused anything else with what I am feeling now.  My past relationships have been a super cheap imitation of what love should be.  Of what I am finally getting to experience now for the first time in my life.

I actually pray that she will find her way out.  That she has a family like mine that she can run to.  That she has friends like mine that she can cry to.  That she has the strength to not allow a man to say degrading things to her or put a hand on her in a fit of rage or do things with her body that she doesn't feel totally comfortable doing.

I don't know much about her, but I am pretty sure that she, too, can find a better man.

Too Young To Die

I don't know how much you follow celebrity news, but I am all about it.

The other day, in the midst of a super packed afternoon, Sissy texted me:

"Gia from the Bachelor/Bachelor Pad is dead.  Suicide.  Hung herself.  Shocked.  Have you not read about it yet?"

Since, I was with clients in "on" mode, I didn't really process it.  But, I felt immediately sad.  Really sad.  Odd, since I only knew Gia from TV.

Why Gia?

She seemed so beautiful, put together, and confidant.

When I finally returned home around midnight, before I even washed my face or brushed my teeth (which I never did because I fell asleep on my computer which is a TERRIBLE habit), I raced online and Googled Gia Allemand.  Several stories came up about her tragic death, her rocky relationship with her pro-athlete boyfriend (who found her), and how sad/shocked/surprised/devastated her Bachelor "family" (what Chris Harrison calls people who have been on the show) are via their condolence tweets.

I then remembered why I felt a connection with Gia.  A person I have never met.  A lady I would be intimidated of, if I ever saw her out at a bar in real life.  I recalled seeing Gia in an interview where she referenced how she had been bullied most of her life.  She was known to call out bullying, especially on Twitter. 

When I saw that interview a few years back (I believe it was during Bachelor Pad publicity because I was living at home already with my folks), I thought to myself...who would bully Gia?

You see, I was bullied most of my childhood and it has altered not only my self perception, but it has led to my abusive relationship with food.  Lately, in therapy, I am working through my own experience with bullying and it sucks.  Every time I talk about it,  I feel like I have been beaten by several 1,000 pound sand bags, but it does define me and I can't help it.

I have briefly mentioned it before, but I was bullied, tormented even, because of my weight all through grade school and in college too (though college wasn't as severe in comparison, just fat jokes and fat nicknames made at my expense).  Even if the post I linked to seems strong, now that Crush's love has washed over me and I know he is here to stay, I do still have a bit of work to do in therapy to not focus on the negative.   Being in my childhood home for the last 2 years has actually been a blessing.  It has triggered some bad habits (like the emotional eating), but they have been simmering for far to long anyway, it was time to confront all of my pain and move on.

The worst bullying I ever withstood was in junior high when the boys called me "Ogre" relentlessly.

30 boys (including the best looking and most popular ones) 1 year older than me began the harassment 3 days into my 6th grade year.  3 days after I started a new school.  I was 5'5" and 135 pounds.  I recently found a diary entry that referenced these stats, calling myself a "fat pig."  An entry that was a plan on how to hide from these boys at school, which included eating my lunch in the library and bathroom and even hiding under a desk in my honors math class (which included 6-7 graders....I wrote that I was going to pretend to tie my shoes under my desk between the period bells, so Todd and Rusty wouldn't be able to call me "Ogre"  before the teacher arrived to protect me).

Sadly, nothing worked, those boys found me everywhere I went.  Even when the teachers were around, they whispered "Ogre" hot and close in my ear.  They slid print-outs of farm animals with OGRE scribbled at the top in marker between the slats of my locker.  They pushed and spit on me, too.

I was actually considered popular before this behavior started.  Once in a while, I still have a nightmare that they are circling me and I wake up crying.  20 years after the experience occurred.

Clearly, I am not over this quite yet.

To this day, there is something about a 12-13 year old boy that unnerves me a bit, I don't like their company much which is silly considering that I have many little baby boys in my life that will become pre-teens before I know it...so, I better get used to this age group.   I also don't like groups of men my own age either....I fear there is always a risk for boys or men to gang-up instantly as I was rarely ever bullied by just 1 boy at a time, it was always a few of them working in these little tag teams.

Thinking about it....it is probably why I have always favored much older men....Crush being 3 years older than me (so, nothing) is the youngest person I have ever dated seriously.  Even Awful was 6 years older than me.  And for a while, I was dating 20+ years older in my early 20's as it felt safer.  I have since learned, men are men, regardless of age.

During junior high, I changed because of the bullying.  I became funny, snarky, and mean myself.  I made fun of other kids, including a few mentally disabled ones.  This still haunts me.   I started emotionally eating.  My grades slipped.  I began riding my bike to the public library to research suicide, anorexia, and drug abuse.  I wanted something to help me escape.  I hated myself.

I contemplated suicide.  I love roller coasters.  I remember thinking that I could die by simply "forgetting" to close my harness on an innocent trip to Six Flags where I had season tickets every summer until I was 15.  I could die experiencing one of my few joys at the time of my death....going upside on a thrill ride.

But, then I would think about the inevitable distress and panic I would cause Sissy and my dad (who would be at Six Flags with me ) and how Sissy would maybe have to ID my dead body and how much she too loves roller coasters......so I would feel terrible in advance if she would never want to go back on one because her little sister died tragically on Batman: The Ride.

But.....I would briefly hesitate pulling my harness down for years.

As I untangle this mess in therapy, I realize that I carried so much pain from these few years of torture, that I lost the last years of my childhood. The bullying showed me 11 years into my short life, that the world can be a cruel cruel place.  I became an extremely defensive person.  I became afraid of confrontation.  I am still trying to break these bad coping mechanisms.

I used to associate the boys who bullied me as "too good for me."  I would reason that they were  popular, richer, smarter, cooler, and better than me, so that is why they hate me and make fun of me.  None of this is true.  I was and I still am a wonderful person.  There was no rhyme or reason for the bullying.  I still ponder why I was targeted...there were bigger and taller girls than me in my grade.

As I get ready to restart my life at 32, I realize that some of me is still afraid of myself.  In my new place, I can be something special.  I am told I am beautiful, smart, accomplished, and funny.  I do think I am these things some of the time.  Somewhere deep in my heart, I believe them....BUT, well, there is still a little voice that screams "OGRE" once in a while.  That wants to argue with a stranger about my "sharp wit, good looks, or beautiful smile" because I don't think I deserve these compliments, because I am not worthy of an easy and good life like other people have.  Self-sabotage at it's finest.

I have seriously contemplated suicide twice in my life.  Once, I was in high school, the summer before college. I threw a massive party at my parents house when they were out of town, got in major trouble when they returned and they kicked me out for weeks.  At the same time, I was dumped by my "friends" because I couldn't go to a concert I said I would go to because I didn't have the money....I was sleeping in a motel between crashing with friends and going through all of my summer work paychecks. I snuck into my parents house one afternoon when I knew everyone was away and I stole a bottle of my mom's painkillers (from a major surgery) with the intent to take the entire bottle.  The night I planned to do it, I made up with my "friends" (who I cut off as soon as I left for college) and decided to wait until I was 25 and see where I was in my life before I ended it.

The last time I decided to kill myself was almost 2 years ago, the morning I broke up with Awful.  I woke up that day set that I would cancel our plans to work on his boat, wait for him to leave, get one of his guns from his gun safe, and shoot myself.  After I feigned sick and he left, on my way down to the basement to retrieve a weapon, I slipped and almost fell down his stairs (which were very steep and slippery) and heard the voice of my deceased grandfather in my head scream, "GRANDDAUGHTER (what he used to call me)....NO! NO! NO!!!!!!!  IT ISN'T YOUR TIME! GET OUT!  GO HOME! GO HOME!!!!!!!!!"

I called my parents hysterically and they came and saved me.  I began therapy the next day.  I am super afraid of guns.

Gia was found by her boyfriend.  They lived together, just like I did with Awful.  I remember in my planning, I wanted Awful to find me.  I was going to write a note...."This is what you get for playing with my emotions and lying to me for over 2 years.  Fuck yourself.  I hope this haunts you for the rest of your life."

I am still afraid of myself sometimes.  That I will break down again for some reason in the future and I will fantasize about the end.  Though I wish it wasn't true, my own self is often my worst enemy.

So, the point I am trying to make after my novel length post, is that no one knows what Gia was feeling or living.  No one knows the pain and torture she may have endured in her own life because of bullying.  How her thinking was altered because of her own experience.  She was dealing with a lifetime of her pain, not just a few fights with her current boyfriend as some tabloids are reporting.

Life is a domino effect.

A person that just meets me, does not see a chubby 11 year old.  They don't know that I cannot watch "Revenge of the Nerds" because there is a fraternity brother named Ogre.

Gia was living her own life and decided for whatever reason that it wasn't worth living anymore.

What must she have been thinking before she took her final breaths?

Gia Allemand, rest in peace.

A Man With No Plan

I really only had 2 boyfriends before Crush.  Neither of them were very good.  1 was a sociopath that I found in bed with an 18 year old girl and 1 was Awful.....oy.

Somewhere in the middle of those two, I met a man who I slept with on and off for 2+ years.  I never considered him a boyfriend, but he did tell me he loved me and considered me his girlfriend when I was thin.  I told him I loved him back, but I truly didn't mean it.  I feel bad even typing that, but it is true.  Let's call him Simple Simon.

Simple Simon wasn't that smart even though he had a job that would lead you to believe that he was.  SS embarrassed me.  He wasn't polished, he was selfish in bed, and a terrible kisser at first (he became quite awesome).....SS was super cheap and had money issues......but, there was something I liked about him....

He was impressed by my accomplishments.  He liked that I knew how to do things: cook, clean, have sex, etc.  He also liked that I had hobbies: acting, reading, working out, riding my bike.....I think he thought I may have been out of his league and I believed I was, too.  I hesitated introducing him to my friends.....and when we did hang out with them, well, he always acted like a fool.  It mortified me.  So much so that I wished for "someone that did not embarrass me in public" on my husband list because of SS.

SS and I met at a Fourth of July Party 5 years ago.  We were both VERY drunk.  We made out that night and then continued to hang out off and on.  He was using me for sex.  I was using him for sex, even though it wasn't very good.  I was just lonely.  All of my friends were coupled up and having fun with their significant others.  All I wanted was some company and all he wanted was to get laid.

SS never wanted to go anywhere with me publicly.  I was going through a chubby phase and he told me that my weight embarrassed him.  I didn't like him enough to care or lose weight.  Whatever.  One night he called me to tell me he couldn't see me anymore because he was falling in love with me and I wasn't what he pictured in his plans.  I asked him what his plans were and he couldn't tell me.

A few weeks later, he told me I was beautiful, but my weight and religion (he was Catholic and I'm Jewish) made it impossible for us to have a future.  I remember feeling sad during this conversation, but not at all broken.....I was slightly whatever about it.  I liked him, but I didn't love him and I did not see a real future with him either.  I also wanted to watch something on TV that night, I remember just wanting to get off the phone.

Summer turned into fall and my sister got engaged.  We lost touch and I began working out and eating well and dropping the pounds.  30 or so in a matter of months.  My metabolism is so messed up for losing and gaining weight off and on starting when I was 20, so this is just how my body works.  We ran into each other one night as I was leaving the gym and he was jogging and his jaw hit the floor when he saw me.  Now that I was thin, I was closer to his ideal....the remaining issue was then just my religion.

We started hanging out again and I loved having the power and feeling sexy.  His approval was a turn-on for me.  We hung out often.  I cooked for him, we went for bike rides, he joined me for a business trip to New Orleans, and we even spent 1 NYE together with one of my best friends.  But, my heart was never in it.  We were too different.  He was a jerk, even though I don't truly think he believed he was one. He told me all about other girls.  I decided to date other men.  It was a bit of a mess.  Yet, he continued to tell me he loved me and I continued to say it back.....lies.  I would never do that now.  NEVER.  Another huge issue I had with him was that he was a porn addict.  He wanted to have sex porno style and he was often disrespectful to me in bed.  I didn't have the self confidence or awareness to tell him to stop treating me like shit.

I slept with him the entire summer before Sissy's wedding.  I didn't invite him to the wedding.  I didn't want to introduce him to my family.  Like I said, he embarrassed me.

A few weeks before the wedding, I was at his condo (that his brother who is an accomplished surgeon bought him) cooking him dinner and he decided to get drunk.  He had had a bad day at work and he couldn't explain why, he could never articulate his thoughts very well, but he was upset.  He started taking shots of Jack Daniels and became drunk quickly.  It was terrifying.  He never drank much.  He wolfed down his food and then proceeded to load the dishwasher and started going on and on about how awesome it was that he had a dishwasher.  I had one in my place and as awesome as dishwashers are, it was all really odd.  Then, he put bathroom soap into the machine....like, he squirted the soap over the dishes like water from a hose.....I tried to correct him and he called me a "fat, ugly, Jewish, know it all bitch."  I grabbed my purse and left.

As I walked briskly back to my place, I knew that I never wanted to see him again....EVER.  I told my doorman to not let him up ever again and I deleted him from my phone.

I was actually relieved because I was looking for a way out and he gave it to me.  It was what I wanted.  I wanted to dump him flat on his face for not wanting to date me at first because I was fat.

SS was hard to shake.  He showed up at my place, my gym, my work.  I never told anyone.  I felt like he wasn't really smart enough to do anything bad and he lived in fear of the DUI he had gotten years before and was very careful and afraid of police, so at least I had that on my side.

Eventually he went away....every few months I do get an email for him asking me to coffee and offering an apology.  I always delete it without responding.

I cyber-stalked him a few days ago and not surprisingly, he is still single.

I wish him the best, I really do.  So happy I didn't settle for that.

It is times like these when I realize how lucky I am for Crush.

The Time I Dated a Sociopath Part 2

There was a suitcase, takeout boxes, liquor, beer cans, wine glasses, and clothes strew upon the floor.  The photos of Socio and me that were on his shelves and fridge had been replaced by photos of him and ANOTHER woman, a young looking one, no more than 20 years old.  There were photos of them taken at the same places we had been, including Mexico.....it was like walking into your own episode of Dateline Special Victims Unit. 

I rounded the corner to the bedroom and sure enough Socio and his other girlfriend were laying naked under the covers.  My heart was pounding.  I shook Socio awake and if I could bottle his face, I would have...."OH SHIT."

Now, I am not at all proud to share what happened next..., but there is no holding back here....

The rage in me was so strong, so intense, so unpredicted, I snapped.  All of my hate, my anguish, my fears, they all came spilling out.  I ripped the covers off the 2 of them and started a tornado of destruction.  I broke photos, I broke glasses, I broke framed posters.  I ripped clothes out of the closet, I  threw plates on the ground like bouncy balls. 

I ran to the bathroom and locked myself inside with her purse.  I rummaged threw it.  She went to college in the Midwest, a good school actually, and she was only 18, OMG! (I later learned they started sleeping together when she was 16, him 35, they met at work, she was a summer intern)......I started to gag and thought I was going to vomit.  I splashed cold water on my face and sobbed.  I looked in the mirror and remember thinking "You did this to yourself you fool.  You knew this was a disaster.  You stayed."  I then shoved her purse into the toilet, it was all I could think to do because he was pounding at the door and about to break it down, I didn't want to get caught with it.

I shut the toilet lid and opened up the door suddenly.  I grabbed his balls so hard that he fell to the ground in a heap.  She stood there behind him speechless.....not doing or saying anything, wearing only his t-shirt, her hairless crotch hanging out of the bottom of the hem, which only made her look younger and more helpless... her mouth was gaped open, jaw unhinged....we were both connecting the dots.

As I waited for the elevator.  He came charging out of his apartment.  I instinctively protected my neck, I remember thinking, protect your neck, he could snap it.  He lunged at me and pulled my hair and threw an entire heavy garbage bag of my belongings at my head.  I reason he packed my stuff that were at his apartment whenever she came into town.  He screamed "WE ARE DONE!"

Obviously.

I walked out of his building with streams of thick tears running down my face.  My head was killing me from where he pulled my hair.  I was clutching my garbage bag full of possessions and did the only thing I knew to do....

I called his mother and told her the entire story.

She cried.  I cried. She told me about the lies , ALL of the lies.  She told me, "I wanted to tell you, but I wanted you to save him, I am so sorry I did this to you."  I knew this was the best revenge I could get on him, making sure his family knew the truth.  No one else mattered, they were the only ones that really knew how messed up he really was and he was using me to look better to them, so they were the jury on this one. 

A few months ago, right before I met Crush, I was getting my nails done and a women kept staring at me.  I was looking at her, too, she seemed familiar, I tried to place her.  While we were drying, she asked me, "I think you dated my brother "The Sociopath" like forever ago?"

I nodded.  She then continued to tell me that he was doing super great, got married, had just had a new baby.  I then instantly recalled, she was the sister I always liked the least, the one that was very caught up in the machine of appearances, the only sibling younger than him, she was about 6 years older than me and away in grad school when I had dated the Sociopath, I had only met her once before. 

I felt the tears welling up inside of me and I couldn't contain them.  I couldn't hold them back.  I started to cry.  She thought I was crying because I still loved him and she said, "don't worry, you will find someone too, you are very pretty."

And then told her....."I am not crying because I miss him, I crying because I feel so bad for the woman who married him and for his son.  Your brother is a monster and a sociopath.  You know it, I would be embarrassed if that was my brother, too."

I then got up, grabbed my purse, and smudged 8 out of my 10 nails. 

The Time I Dated a Sociopath Part 1

Oh yes....this happened.  The Sociopath was a real sociopath, like diagnosed.  He had no grasp on reality.

You don't think I found my current dream gent by always dating winners, did you?!  Well I didn't.  Crush is the first healthy and balanced relationship I have EVER had.  He is the first man I am publicly proud to date.  I want to introduce Crush to my friends and family.  I want to show off his photos.

In my 20's The Sociopath was the WORST of the bunch I dated, but he wasn't so different from the other men who came after him until I met my Crush.  They were all slight reincarnations of each other: men who I thought were below me, who I tried to boss around and control initially, who eventually brainwashed me, broke down my self-esteem, and controlled my every move.  

The player always got played.

Let's rewind and start at the beginning....

When I was 24, I had never had a real boyfriend.  Was a virgin?  No.  Had I had a few short lived fauxmances?  Yes. I had "loved" many who hadn't returned the favor and vice-versa.

I met The Sociopath through a frenemy from childhood.  Frenemy and I were always "friendly", but never really true friends.  She is the type of person who is extremely competitive, always out for herself, and likes to see other people fail.  I don't know why I trusted her opinion with men...I remember asking her if Socio was alright and she told me he was.....another prime example of not trusting my instincts.

The Sociopath was 13 years older than me.  He LOVED to drink and do drugs.  I was so personally immature at the time that I saw no issue in the fact that a 37 old man went to bars and stayed out until 2:00 am nightly, 5-7 days a week.  I didn't find him particularly attractive either.   I also thought I was much smarter and more successful than him.... At the time, I guess I liked that he wasn't shorter than me, never called me fat, and bought me drinks and shots.  I had VERY low standards.

He told me lie after lie.  I knew he was lying to me on the inside, but I believed him, too.  I just didn't want to process the truth, I wanted to party....I wanted to float through my reality, too, to numb my self-esteem issues and silence my self-doubt.  A few examples of his lies for good measure:

He told me that he played baseball on a scholarship in college....post-breakup I found out that he only attended one semester of college and flunked out and NEVER played baseball.

He told me he was rich....post-breakup I found out he was several hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt, including massive gambling debts.

He told me he was madly in love with me.....one of the reasons why we broke up was because I found out he was dating an 18 year old, the ENTIRE time we were together.

The Sociopath lived in an alternate reality.  I think a lot of this was because he was adopted by a lovely family and had 4 sisters who were all biological and not adopted.  He fell right in the middle of the bunch, he was the only male, the only adopted child as I mentioned, and he felt like the odd man out always.  When he was super wasted, he would discuss this and often cry and throw things.  He had a wicked temper.

He drank and drugged almost every single day.  He worked 8am-2pm for a family friend off the books and then drank for 12 hours.  I would meet him out around 6:00 pm after my work day and he would already be wasted.  Then we would stay out, black out, order late night pizza, and wake up in our clothes...we would often be late for work.  He was a terrible influence for me.

Some facts I ignored were this: he didn't have a credit card, he was a slob, he had drugs in his freezer, his phone would sometimes be turned off without warning, he would disappear for 24-48 hours at a time, he never wanted to hang out with my family or friends, he had all of these "friends" that he would buy drinks for and pretend to be rich for and never knew their last names, he was best friends with a man who was recently divorced with several children and a complete cocaine addict, he had a family friend around his age check in on him daily (like make sure he was alive and had food),  and everyone seemed really worried about him...

At the same time they were ALL super happy that we were dating......

I liked feeling wanted and purposeful and that I had the ability to save someone so lost.

I felt like I NEEDED to be with him ALL of the time because if I wasn't, something would happen.  He would disappear, cheat on me, or die.  He was like sand, always about to slip through my fingertips.

One night about 6 months into our relationship, we planned to meet at his place at 2:00 am, after we both went out with our own friends.  I had a key to his apartment and was to let myself in as always.  I texted him at 1:15 am and he said he was on his way home and I should meet him there at 2:00 am.  At 2:15 am, I let myself in and found a half naked woman passed out on his couch.  She wasn't wearing a top or bra.  To this day, I have no idea who she was or what really happened before I arrived.  I freaked out and we got into a physical fight.  I punched and hit him and ran out of the apartment.  He slapped me across the face and pulled my hair.  I fled to the elevator and out of the building.  As I tried to hail a cab, he chased me downstairs and begged me to come back up.  He was crying, sobbing for forgiveness.

I relented.  I was afraid.

The passed out girl was still there when we came back up.  I woke her, got her clothes from the bedroom and offered her water and cab fare.  She had no idea who we were or where she was.  I stayed with The Sociopath and had sex with him that night....it just made me ill to write that sentence. This is not behavior of a healthy person, but he wanted it and he never did.  I was so confused. I was battling so many demons then....

In the morning, we woke up and ordered pizza and acted like nothing happened.  Back to basics.

After the half naked girl incident, I began to pull back.  I knew it was a bad situation, but I was scared of him.  I was scared he could hurt me.  I was afraid that he could kill me.  He used me to look good to his parents....so he could continue to ask them for help and money...I was his validation...a sweet attractive Jewish girl from one town over (his parents were Jewish and very kind), if we were together, he couldn't be that much of a monster, could he. I know this now at 31..they were pushing marriage upon our second meeting.  I was valuable to him, he didn't want to be with me, but he didn't want to let me go either.

9 months into our relationship, we were fighting all the time.  I knew it was only a matter of time until I could get out of this relationship, so I looked for a way.  I was too scared to confide in anyone about how bad and dysfunctional this really was.  At the time, I felt embarrassed and like a failure because I wasted almost a year on this mess and I had no self esteem, I thought this was the best I could do, I really did.

One Friday, he didn't text or call me back all day.  I waited and waited.  I got worried, I thought he might have drunk himself to death and I remember being scared that I could be blamed for it.  Upon the 24th hour of not hearing from him, I knew it was my chance to catch him some way or another.  He was either up to no good or dead.  My grandfather had fallen ill and my hair iron was at Socio's place, so before I headed up to see my family, I stopped there for it.  It was a good excuse.   It made sense for me to come over for it.

It was now early Saturday morning and I was worried about Socio because I "cared."

Since I had the key, I was able to enter the building and his apartment without issue.  Upon turning the lock, I knew something wasn't right....

TO BE CONTINUED.......