The Thing about C....

God,

… you’d think having aged 50 years and survived more toxic relationships than I have fingers, I’d learn - right? Well, here goes another:

In the very early part of August, a picture on a dating site profile - me with my grand daughter - caught a pretty lady’s eye. Curious, she sent a message my way.

Online, C. seemed warm, loving, talkative to the extreme - but quick to assume things. She told me she was a drug and alcohol counsellor - retired due to illness. She was actively maintaining in recovery and had twenty-five years of sobriety to prove it. The fact I knew the lifestyle piqued her interest. What you see is what you get - and I liked the impression she made on me. When am I going to learn? It’s what you don’t see that sneaks in for the kill.

I was feeling my own stuff with the imminent death of my ex-wife - the mother of my children and “Gramma” to that little girl in the photograph.

I was wary. The net has been the source of a lot of heartache in me. Of fifteen starts with Internet ladies, few lived up to their promise. Though I have made some good friends, those who went beyond the first few dates all just fizzled out in the three-to-six month stretch. Masks, like rose-coloured glasses, come off when the honeymoon’s over. I didn’t think it would be easy for me to trust again. Not after so many short and hurtful relationships. There was something about C. that just felt right. We seemed like the perfect match - but all the same, red flags were there.

Assumed things - was it nerves, or a warning sign? Insanity is defined as doing all the same things and expecting different results. Was she different - or am I insane? Two days later, we met.

She was fashionably late. I still wonder if it was some kind of test. When she breezed in, I swear that coffee shop brightened! Time stood still as we talked our way through several cups. God, how we talked.... She was every bit the woman impression led me to expect - and so much more. As the day wore on, we grew with it. Never have I been to an AA meeting on a date!

The evening was young and we still wanted more. Really, I didn’t want this day to end. Singing just seemed like a good thing to do. Thing is: in this city, the only place for country karaoke is a seedy old bar. Though I felt it was risky, we went. Several times, a persistent woman - a one-time and failed Internet meet - tried for my attention. I was patient - and respectful to my lady. When C. sang, I heard the voice of an angel.

The date ended in conflict - over that drunken barfly! ...And we’d shared such a great day too.

I should have seen it in how many times she’d moved from one place to another. I should have seen it in the number of guys who have walked through her life - and it was always them in the wrong. I should have seen it when she told me their alcohol and drug abusing father had custody of her children. But most of all, I should have seen it in her eyes on that very first date when she stepped back like I was in danger close. I should have - but I didn’t.

In an e-mail, she wrote: “...I realized by meeting you that my healing isn’t finished enough to want to take a risk yet....” I knew what it was about. I wasn’t about to press her into anything. We’d only just met. Besides, she’s a lady worth waiting for.

I sent a message back thanking her for the wonderful time and the memory she created. Meanwhile, she spoke with some friends in the program, and heard things like that happen sometimes. It calmed her enough to get over the assumption she’d drawn.

We talked....

It was just a few days later when she invited me in for supper. Our conversation grew deeper as the evening grew late. In tears as she related she’d been a child of 16 when her first husband took liberties with her naïveté, I hugged her some comfort. Her reaction was more than a thank-you. I felt urgency much greater than my own - on our second date. We’re both mature - and I suppose lonely. Things moved into intimacy a lot faster than we really should have.

The very next day, her insecurity showed again. This time, it was when I made a comment about how the sun danced through a lady’s long white hair. Being artsy, I saw the artistic value - not the woman. C. saw it as something else and walked away angry. Maybe at that point, I should have just let her go. This was all new, and she was a different person. I felt I might be judging her by relationships past. It took a lot of explaining to outweigh the conclusion to which she’d leapt. At least, we could talk things out. That made all the difference in the world to me.

Though there were certain irritating things about her - like in how she interrupted and dominated in conversations, steered them off to other topics, or in her odd way of juggling the evidence to draw her own answers - I accepted her. Isn’t that just the way of a lady who’s playing it safe?

Our chats were interspersed with I miss you and I want you, hope and promise. I took a risk in asking her to be my guest at an event very special to me. She accepted. Her fibro flared up - on the day of my daughter’s wedding. She worried I’d be angry. It seemed to me she was more anxious than sore, but chronic pain is real and unpredictable. I’ve known the jitters too.

It didn’t really matter. Just over a week into a new relationship is a bit early to meet the family en masse.

It’s amazing how quickly feelings like love take root. In a matter of days, we were inseparable. I was so comforted to have a shoulder to cry on and arms to hold me when my ex-wife lost her battle with cancer.

C. laughed as easily as she cried. I liked her as she was. To find someone 49 years in age who still possessed unabashed emotion was a joy to me. Moods? We all have them. She was entitled to hers - and her opinions. Though seldom was there an apology if I proved she wasn’t right about something, she had the perfect end-all for every disagreement: Tears.

Inconsistency confuses me. Here was one very likable person, so warm and passionate, who could turn cold in a heartbeat. From the intense heights of love, she would plunge to the depths of fear and anger in just one instant of thoughtless spontaneity. What, to me, was a humorous comment about “killing” my indestructible plant when her foot touched it had her upset. She got some sort of idea I was angry with her. A playful moment where I clipped my own cheeks with her feet almost terrified her. The simple word “scold” brought on a wrath I just couldn’t understand. So many triggers!

A touch of jealous was cute - at first. I thought it was sort of flattering that she didn’t want to lose me. Okay - letters and pics on my computer from a previous girlfriend, I can understand. Given the opposite, I’d wonder too. For a while, there were legal reasons for keeping them. Only laziness left them there. It was when she started going through my computer - and finding that ex’s name on auto-fill-in forms and stuff I didn’t even know was there much less how to delete on a search engine I don’t use - my concerns were raised. C. did not easily accept explanations, and to disagree with her was “rude”. Thing is - I had nothing to hide.

When she made it clear she would prefer it if she didn’t have to see my ex-wife’s husband - someone who’d grown to be a friend and had just lost his wife - I understood. His resemblance to the father of her kids made her uncomfortable and his pain could become a problem. Still, I wondered if C. wasn’t being just a bit controlling. It was when she forbade me from accepting calls from an old friend - a suicidal girl who only ever reached out when she was getting close to bottom - I was hurt. She’s a counsellor?

I almost broke it off with her after a great April Wine concert. That ex just happened to be there. My motives for avoiding contact were misjudged. Really, I still don’t know if she accepted the truth - or the version with which I was accused. I apologized - then forgave myself.

C. lived in the city - an hour’s drive from my place. I lived in an apartment over a small town grocery store. The neighbours were loud and the stairs were brutal - not a good thing for a lady who has trouble sleeping and walking. Where she lived, the neighbours were getting to be pests. Apparently, they were playing with drugs. They were always looking for something to enable them to carry on their activities. Some dangerous people were coming around, so it wasn’t a safe place for teen-aged kids to drop in when she wasn’t home.

We were practically living together - in both of our apartments. She joked we had a country house and a city house. Where problems rose was we were constantly stocking them and running the road between them. She didn’t like to be so far from the kids for too long - and I understood that. There was a lot of packing and travelling time involved. Neither are good for fibro or heart health. It wasn’t hard to guess that musical apartments could be the source of a lot of our stress. We were both feeling it, so she suggested we should move into one place together.

I felt it was too soon. She may have sensed some doubt when she wondered if I could I really love her as much as I said. I did, and I wanted to love her for a very long lifetime. I just wasn’t ready to make that leap yet.

There was just something about how she seemed to be meddling in the kids’ home life. Sometimes, it looked like she was trying to drive a rift between them and their parents. Maybe it was something still burned on my mind from the last relationship, but I had a gut feeling she still wanted to get her ex-husband back into her life. Her jealousy toward his eighteen-years-junior wife was obvious.

Regardless, for me, there was no getting comfortable with the feeling of being controlled. If I disagreed, would I lose her? She’s already told me she’s walked out on several relationships where she wasn’t kept happy, and her son’s words: “You’re the longest any guy has lasted with her” weighed heavily.

I made a lot of “excuses” - valid reasons, really - why I couldn’t move into her place: the lease; it was too small; there was no parking. My apartment seemed better - to me anyhow. It was my safe place. Really, it wasn’t so far that the kids couldn’t easily Greyhound it if need be.

I have to admit, it made me feel “warm ‘n’ fuzzy” while C. set about nesting in my house. I welcomed her! Her charm added an atmosphere to my life I have never felt before. She knew an uninhibited freedom that I loved. For a while, that small town place was quite the love nest, but she could be so demanding too. It didn’t take long before our cuddling time was replaced by her computer time. I didn’t welcome that. Why was I getting so many mixed messages?

She went through my space re-arranging things, tossing stuff out and making room for her own. Some of that "junk" had sentimental value, so naturally I objected. That brought on disagreements, accusations - and at least twice she threatened to end the relationship. Once, she even pushed me to the point where I carried all of her stuff down to the car. That earned me a guilt trip. Incredible how she thought it seemed so easy for me to let her go. I wasn’t about to beg her to stay - wouldn’t want her to if she wasn’t happy - but I didn’t want to lose her. It was NOT easy.

Those arguments! They were over the silliest of things sometimes - what was on my computer, a picture in a book, stuff in the fridge, a bracelet, a stupid towel! So many times I felt she was a cat and I was the mouse. C. clung to whatever conclusion she’d jumped in any given situation.

One, in particular that should have taught me well happened in the aisles of a dollar store. She’d been looking for some red net stockings for an elf costume. I thought I found some. She turned to see me holding an opened thong in a classic pose. I was accused of doing it deliberately. I’d humiliated her in front of her daughter and she was embarrassed to be with me. There was no defending myself. Right in front of her kids, I had some very explicit names cast my way. That time, I did leave. The next day, I ended up being the one who apologized - again.

I know I have a stubborn streak. I’ll speak my truth - sometimes, loudly (without name-calling or intentional put-downs) but I will compromise. C. wouldn’t. It had to be her way. Silence for the sake of peace is uneasy peace. Still, there was a side to her I loved - a side that loved me. That made it all worthwhile. So, for the sake of peace, I couldn’t reach for her soul any more.

Divorce and distance deprived me of my kids. Injury took my ability to earn self esteem on a job. Heart meds mess with making love. Now, for her, I was giving up a vital part of me: Words....

She wanted me to do something about the noisy neighbours. I’d never listened for the sounds from next door. She wanted me to complain about the faulty plumbing. Older buildings do have their limitations. She wanted to see her kids more. She noticed as my performance in bed fell off. God bless her, she asked about it. I was afraid to offend her. I didn’t dare tell her how I felt about the way I was being treated. I blamed it on the heart meds and suffered in silence.

She wanted a house and we weren’t in a financial position to buy or rent one. Places came available, and we turned them down for one reason or another. I still wanted some time. She even checked into tax-sale houses in her old home town in the hope of a spring move. Her aggressive nature made me feel sort of insignificant many times, yet her persistence chipped away at my wall. Once, with her kids along for the trip, we went north to view a little house from her past. Only when I saw that light in her eyes did I believe she really loved me enough to want to share a life together.

A great deal came up on a mobile home not far outside the city. Though I still felt pushed, and I was leaving my safe place behind - I surrendered.

Her pretty green eyes glowed emeralds bright. C. practically danced in the car when she first saw it. She was so excited about it - our “Granny Clampett” place. “We’ll be those two old hippies at the end of the road.” Those prophetic words inspired me. I dropped my guard. I believed in this thing. Words are big healers to me....

This was one of those “once-in-a-lifetime” bargains - at a price even we could afford. We didn’t have immediate cash for a down payment, so she called her mother. Sadly, the same day we made our offer to purchase our “dream house”, she heard her brother was at death’s door in ICU. The magic of her “best day ever” died. There was no air of celebration on that trip north.

According to C., her mother is an abusive and controlling woman of loose morals. Allegedly, she uses money as a mechanism and favours her second family over her first (meaning two sons over three survivors from six) She seemed like a sweet ol’ gal to me. Mom said she misunderstood because only one-tenth the cash was on hand when we went to pick it up. She didn’t want those two sons to know. C.’s tears were enough to soften her. On the way home, she joked with her sister how it pays to be able to turn tears on and off at will.

Together, we cleaned, papered and prepared - in between trips to visit her gravely ill brother. I was warned not to get friendly with the neighbours. She wanted quiet and privacy. There was bickering over what went where and why. For the sake of peace, her ideas prevailed. She was so adamant about things being perfectly centred and straight - and hated disagreement. It really bothered me when she heard helpful hints and suggestions as criticism and personal attacks. Could I do nothing right?

In two weeks, the place was ready for us to move into a new life together. But, stress didn’t fade with our reduced mileage. In what should have been a time for us to relax and refresh our relationship, it got worse.

Her fibro was flaring, but she pressed on with things we had the rest of our lives to do. Her short temper showed as she fought against gravity to hang material on a wall. More than once I asked her if she needed a meeting. In a closet, I collided with her capacity for exaggerating the truth. I had too many clothes?

She stayed in touch with her kids online - always fretted about her son’s teen-age activity, the girl’s love life and obsessed about their father (her second ex-husband) and his drinking and drugging. When she lived in the city, her young teen-age daughter could come and go at will on the bus (ie: run away) whenever things “got tough” with her father and step-mother. Seems to me, she rather encouraged it. There were limits here - and C. knew that before we ever made our offer to purchase. The parents insisted it wasn’t their fault her mom decided to move so far out of town. C.’s moods grew darker. The smallest of things set her off now.

At the very beginning of this relationship C. got me to promise that I’d let her know if ever she was doing anything that worried me. So many times I tried. So many times my requests were condemned as personal criticism. So many times I was accused of doing the very things she did.

In our early days we could speak deeply about the most intimate of things. That was a large part of the attraction. Now, when we did talk, it was at a superficial level. Depth brought out the defences. It seemed like she was lurking - just waiting for me to say or do anything wrong. If it wasn’t praise, she wouldn’t hear it. I felt terrible if my honesty hurt this woman who said she loved me, and worse when I appeased her. Her anger brought sorrow. Her tears brought shame.

The romance was dying. She complained if I touched her in that way when she was in pain - and worried when I didn’t touch her in that way when she wasn’t. Once you’re put off a few times.... Seldom did we make love in the way we used to. Many nights, we didn’t even sleep together. The computer had most of her attention.

I believed her when she said the fibro was making her irritable - but she couldn’t understand why I was “getting crabby”. Once, she even accused I’d lured her to my dating site profile under false pretences. That picture of me and my grand daughter had her believing my kids’ lives revolved around me and she would be a part of it.

Something had been haunting her for the last little while - ever since we made our commitment to share a life. Was it her kids? Was it her brother? Was it her ex? I didn’t ask. I didn’t need the fight.

It came to a head about two weeks before the end. Frustrated by another of her Catch 22-like accusations, I made it clear I’d had enough of the head games. After so many diplomatic tries, I was very to-the-point when I told her I was fed up with her need to control it all. To me, it was like she looked for the bad in everything. "When does it get fair?" That evening, in tears she lamented she’d lost hope for this relationship.

A day or so before our last time together, she asked me why I loved her. For the first time, I couldn’t find an answer. I just did. That was the moment I knew we were at a crossroad.

All in all, we did a lot of things right. We were both willing to take a chance with each other. We shared dreams and let ourselves experience the powers of our love. Nothing’s a waste that makes memories, and she made some sweet ones in me. For them, I’m so glad there was C.

...But we did things wrong too. We moved too fast - from each others’ dreams to this life. Of that I’ve had regrets. In our haste, we let ‘us’ deteriorate to the point where there were a lot of uneasy silences and heated debates. My heart broke in every one of them. I know, just in my way of being honest and forthright - and as resent worked its way in, a bit too blunt and loud - she felt hurt. For that, I cry.

Sunday morning, the day before our pensions were to be consolidated, she woke up annoyed. All I said was we both do it (sleep noise) “What’s that supposed to mean?” There was no meaning. After she said it a second time, I pointed out it felt like she was looking for a fight - and got some names lobbed my way again.

I know there is one phrase that will set her off like no tomorrow. I had no intention of giving her the opportunity to use those rights she knows so well if I was to kick her to the curb – but if there could be no resolution, no compromise, or no way I could matter in this relationship, it was time to call it quits. I gave her something to interpret as she wished when I said: “Yes dear.”

She stayed in the bedroom for most of the day. That evening, she said she was leaving. To her credit, she did acknowledge that she knew she’d screwed up with a clichéd: “It’s not you: it’s me.” and: “I’m sorry I hurt you.” It wasn’t clear whether she meant do or did - but by now, it really didn’t matter.

She told me she wanted us to start over. She wanted a place of her own but didn’t want me out of her life. Her story was she’s too far from the kids out here. That’s a line I won’t dare cross. Though I could see there was a lot more to it, I only half-heartedly tried to reach her. What’s the use? She wanted - and I wasn’t happy with what stress was doing to me - and us. I guess it shows in more ways than just the obvious.

Monday (Nov 27) we went in to Disability. She’s made that first payment so I was sort of screwed for this month. Yes, I was upset - but more so devastated because I’m sure I lost a huge part of a dream come true - her. Her last look back - to my one last sad “I love you” - wasn’t through the eyes of a C. I’d ever met.

Money is only money. I got a partial cheque and a clinic doctor will script me for the medical requirement. I still have receipts from the move, so I can get a community start-up. It took a bit of humility and a few phone calls but arrangements are made to cover the bills. I won’t lose this place - but now I live in it alone.

Heart health and stress aren’t a good combination for me. As confusing as she can be, lonely is worse. Tuesday, I spoke to someone from the program, then a counsellor on the phone - and Thursday, I had a home visit from the crisis centre! Turns out he knows her....

He was good about it - kept it on me. We talked some stuff about how alcoholics’ minds work, and why they act the way they do. The saddest part was: it described our relationship in living colour. Chaos! She has twenty-five years of sobriety, yet without her Power, the behaviour drives her. Its inconsistency managed to push the right buttons and drill deep enough to touch anger.

We spoke quite a bit about my emotional state, the stress, and what was it doing to my health? He told me some places to get help, and I am looking into some anger management and grief counselling.

Friday night, C. called. She made sure I knew she was a lot happier now because everyone there agrees with her. To her, being right is more precious than honesty. I never was a “yes” person. We spoke again about starting over and moving slower when it’s not shaded by yesterdays. God, how I prayed we might do it. Yes, it could be difficult - but with some counsel.... Neither of us is perfect.

From my heart, I recounted things that have worn me down throughout the relationship - with a hope hers would hear. I heard another denial. Naturally, none of her own behaviours had anything to do with it. It was put onto the fact I’d quit painkillers - then on yesterdays that were dealt with and resolved long ago. She made me aware, in no uncertain terms, that she didn’t have to do anything. The issues were all my own and if I expected to work things out, I was the one who had to change.

An AA friend found her an apartment so she would be moving into it in the next week or so. I promised I wasn’t going to give her a hard time when she came to get her stuff. I’d even offered to let her store it here. My word is solid. I keep it to the best of my ability. I told her someone said that I should change the locks, make her prove it’s hers and claim it was abandoned - and that I answered I want things to be on friendly terms so, no. I won’t do it to her.

It may as well have been bait - and she went for it. I’m real sorry for that - not for the trap, but for what I learned. I wish it could have been something in me, for now I know I can’t fix it. She stuck to the pattern and fixed on the bad. I tried to explain. It went unheard. The browbeating I just took about browbeatings I took came right apart in a threat she was coming out with proof, witnesses and cops. It proved what I saw all along and what the counsellor told me about a “dry drunk’s” behaviour. They are the same thing.

Saturday evening (Dec 2) she left a message stating that I had to bag or box anything I could and I had 24 hours to bring it to G. House or she was coming out with the cops. I’m sorry it had to be this way too.

I called the shelter and told the lady on the other end about last night’s call - how C. heard the bad, shut me out, jumped to another conclusion, and that trait is the reason this relationship failed me. Then I called the police and told them they would be getting a call. “She left. She can come and get it herself.” The cop seemed to believe it was fair - as long as there wouldn’t be trouble.

I wasn’t going to that shelter. It would hurt too much to see her. This pain is too fresh and I still have big feelings for her. I should have let her come out with guns blazing, but I didn’t want her hatching ideas I’d ever be mean to her. I still loved her - still believed in her - still had some faith in her. Why?

Sunday (the 3rd) I took some stuff to her sister’s. She wonders why I stayed with C., having seen the way I was treated a few times.

In a phone call with one of her long-time friends on the very day she left, I mentioned that C. is terribly insecure and can be very abusive. It came as no surprise. A lot of what I lived with her was confirmed in our talk. “She’s done things like that all her life.” I know she’s just walked out on other relationships too. I’d heard it from her and from several people very close to her - so it’s not just me. Common among all of them? “She’s a bit too sensitive”.

“I want us to be happy.” Those are C.’s own words. For there to be an ‘us’, we both need a voice. I needed to matter too. “What’s that supposed to mean?” or “You’re telling me....” I felt like I was being analyzed, interpreted, manipulated, lead to a witness stand confession and forced into another apology for something I didn’t really say or do. I heaped anger on me for feeling beaten down and damned to silence by the very person I wanted to spend a life with.

She said she loved me, but I felt treated like a threat. She was afraid I would leave her, but I felt her pushing me away. “When I want your opinions, I’ll ask for them.” That hurt me. I wonder what her feelings might be toward: “Children should be seen and not heard”. To me, it’s the same thing. Nothing was resolved. It was dismissed for the sake of peace. Why was I getting crabby? It kept happening. After a while, tension creates strain. Then, the cracks appear.

Don’t get the impression I was entirely the victim in this. The signs were there. C. may be a bit too aggressive, and I too easy-going, but I’m not blameless. I loved her. I didn’t want to lose her. I guess, in trying to make her happy, I let her run all over me. I should have been stronger in my resolve when I walked away that first time. I knew she wasn’t about to change her behaviour. I was the one who went back for more.

Though I never resorted to name-calling, I didn’t candy-coat the truth either. At times, frustration got the best of me and I shouted it. That makes me guilty of retaliation - and I hated myself for it every time. It wouldn’t be fair to pass blame onto C. for that.

Three weeks to the day after she left (Dec 18) came one of those “eureka” things - in a very dark and tragic sort of way. I got the word from C.’s son when he called about her stuff. She’s in the hospital. Apparently she lost it, turned violent and the police got involved. Tears stung these eyes when I heard a shaky-voiced “I’m so sorry” from a young man who really shouldn’t have felt a need to apologize.

C.’s sister wants nothing more to do with her. From her, I heard things that might have disgusted me - considering morals to which C. made an appearance of living. They came from hurt and yesterdays (but sort of answered some unasked questions about her sexual past) She has a long history of using people and running away. I heard about deaths in her family that C. has never come to terms with. Come to think of it, C.’s “this is the best day of my life” ended when her brother came close to death. People in hiding are not easy people to deal with. It will be a long recovery, if only she’d accept the help. I made sure her son knows I’m here.

She had me believing I was a monster. Guess I have a lot to learn yet. Counselling is scheduled for me in the new year - grief and anger management. My hope is I’ll learn how to stop falling in with that sort of lady (0 in 16 for me now) - or how not to tease her tail should it happen.

December 28, a month-plus-a-day after she left, C. showed up to collect most of her furniture. Her eyes lit up when she looked about what was to be our home. She smiled and I heard the song in her voice when she said: “I love this place.”

She held back in telling me anything specific, but she did spend a week in hospital - and was, as they tend to deem it, unco-operative. Apparently, she’d dumped her meds and made threats to sue if they put her on anything addictive.

She still wants to believe withdrawal from codeine was altering my mood. I can’t get her to understand that just because I had script doesn’t mean I used it. This province can’t accept pain without painkiller. I did 28 days in rehab to break free from the addiction. In the past 11 years, I’ve managed without them for all but the worst of pain. She even saw as I disposed of several months’ worth of T3, so how can she blame the codeine?

She asked if I’d been going to meetings. Yes - I do know the lifestyle. I respect it as something that may work for her and I would support her fully if only she’d have said: “let’s go.” Did she have to assume it was my life too?

Despite what she tells me, I heard from her sister and one of her friends C. had no intentions of trying work things out. She just needs to keep me co-operative - and she’s saying I was manipulative? She’s saying I was abusive. There’s no denying I raised my voice - and yes, as the hurt grew deep, I yelled. I won’t try to justify it. Losing control of me is my shame. I’m sorry it happened - and sorrier she’d even think that way. If having opinions that differ from hers is the same as abuse, then I’m guilty as charged. Guess if it’s what she needs....

In putting this “shield” together, there have been many opportunities to weigh out the ‘goods’ and ‘bads’ in this relationship. I know some self-centeredness is vital to the recovery process. Hers borders on narcissism - in just about every way. It’s pretty sad when the ‘goods’ are eclipsed by a total lack of communication. All I’m left with is pretty and good sex - against a mountain of heartache. I just don’t want to be steamrollered any more.

December 29, I took some of the stuff she’d left behind to her friend’s place - the friend who pulled strings to get her the apartment. She’d already noticed C. tends to make a story a lot bigger than it really is.

December 31, C. called to thank me for bringing that stuff. She doesn’t know when she’ll be able to pick up the rest of it and she’ll talk with me when she’s dealt with her brother, her ex, her mom and had some time to get things resolved within her own mind. This isn’t easy on me - but I wonder if I can trust her. I mean - she told people I abused her. What else could she pull to get attention?

January 10, C. called again. She still can’t get anyone to bring her out to pick up the rest of her stuff so would I mind bringing in more. That friend who got her the place is “off doing her own thing now” (avoiding her the way it sounded) and her sister still won’t have anything to do with her. Nobody wants to do something for nothing - not even for her. Her response was just dead silence when I mentioned that coffee or ‘us’. I told her I going in on the 15th, so I’d take some in then. She gave me her number so I can let her know when I’m coming.

January 11, I was going in that way to get a tire fixed. I wouldn’t be more than twenty minutes from her place, and it was warm. I left a message offering to bring in her plants and a couple of boxes. She called back and said I could keep the plants but there was a bunch of stuff she “needed badly” - including half the canned goods in my kitchen! She already thinks she should have the freezer because she has kids (who don’t live with her) and her neighbours can use it too.

I know her greedy side. She’ll go into the Salvation Army or the Mission and take all but one loaf of bread, simply because it’s “free”.

Then she wanted to know how long I’d be. I didn’t know. How could I? It all depends on what the guy has to do and how many jobs he has ahead of him. She refused to wait until after her Al-Anon meeting because she “had to get some sleep” and demanded a time. That’s like asking me to predict the future. “I don’t know” wasn’t a good enough answer. She started to get angry. “Oh just forget about it. I’ll get some....” I wasn’t buying into it. Why was she pushing for a fight? I just ended the call.

Why is it my problem if her life’s not going the way she wants? She got more funds than I did when this thing died. I do have this too-soft heart though. I won’t see anyone go hungry, and started feeling bad about hanging up on her. I left another message that I’d come in today (Friday)

C. never returned the call....

February 1: Tonight, C. called to tell me she was coming to get the rest of her stuff on Saturday. It didn’t matter if I had plans. As usual, what she wanted had priority. I know I promised I wouldn’t give her a hard time, but she’s carried this to an extreme. She treated me like I was dirt when I offered to bring stuff in and tried to make me feel like I owe her something. It’s been here for over two months now, so I think it’s fair to ask for some storage - considering how she left me with a maxed-out credit card and short-chequed with all the bills to pay when she walked out. She said we’ll talk about it on Saturday.

Why couldn’t she just leave good enough alone? It was easy to guess she expected another freebie. A sincere “thank you” might have been payment enough. Moments later, she called back to say she’s “...just going to let my new boyfriend handle you.”

Really, it doesn’t surprise me if she entertains a number of callers. There were red flags aplenty about that too. It saves her from dealing with herself. I empathize with anyone who enters the chaos of manipulative deception called her life. Pretty and good sex just aren’t enough. No - it wasn’t jealousy. That door closed shortly after I realized she was using me too. Coming from someone with an unstable mental history, I consider her words to be a threat. I feel a little bad that the police had to get involved. What choice did she leave me?

Monday (Feb 5) Final contact with C. I took her kids video tapes, her jewelry box and some other personal items in to the apartment building where she lives. When she came to the door, there was a look of real sorrow and shame in her eyes. If I read the body language right, she wanted to talk (or more) I didn’t say a word - just handed the package over. Surprise of surprises, she said thank you. I didn’t even look back when I walked away. (Okay - within me, I cried) At least she’ll never be able to say I’m heartless.

Anything from which we learn is a valued lesson in life. From her, I learned the true worth of boundaries. In being a part of her pain, I learned the line between empathy and sympathy is a too-easy one to cross. It is sad to realize that a heart like the open prairie is a target for users - but it’s a darned good thing to know in a world full of them. The four months we shared weren’t wasted.

In the real sense, C. is no longer a part of my life. I chose to close that door - and another is opening. I care, and probably always will - from a safe distance. One cannot have loved without knowing empathy. Really, the hurt is for her for I know she’ll never know the happiness she seeks without admitting to herself she is human and very capable of screwing up.

Today, I am being counselled to grieve for, then step away from her and yesterdays. Today, I am learning to curb my instinct for retaliation. Today, there is hope, where with her, there was little. Today I have forgiven the person who most needs to be forgiven - ME. That can only make my next relationship a better one.

I suppose I’ll always love her - in an unconditional sort of way - despite what I know. I’m told she thought the world of me. What really happened in her is something I guess I’ll never know. I pray she understands I can only be sorry for my part in what happened to us. Forgiveness is such an easing thing to do. She can’t abuse me any more.

C.’s last words on that phone message were: “I’m going to do what I need to do to take care of myself.” I hope to you, God, she does....

Amen

Lament for a Dream

What an ugly fate for such a sweet dream. A shame that I had to kiss this one good-bye. Oh, I'll live with its Hell, and for a while she was like a breath of fresh air, but 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 take us places we'd never normally go. In the early days of August, she wandered into the Plentyoffish date site. Was it fate? Faith? Circumstance? Did it really matter? She happened onto my profile. Curious, she sent her first signal. It turned into an encounter between one who was there by pure chance, and one who'd given up on love and stayed only for the Forums. Seemed almost natural that we were destined for "happily-ever-afters".

Love is supposed to grow over time. I heard it puts down roots for the charmed. Guess we were, but kind of shy too. Our profiles said: "looking for friends". For almost a month, she and I traded e-mails - ten a day sometimes - and not always at a "penpals" level. It 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, hers was almost clear enough. Instinct is what I didn't trust.

Could she really be interested in me? Love hasn't always been kind 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. In the dawn of September we met for the first time. There was a simple innocence in her I'd never felt before: a comfort, a trust, a certain something. We traded magic the very instant our eyes met and we shared a 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. She warned me her mother would object, but it turned out that wasn't true. 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 her clues and hints 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. Things just naturally led where they did. Her glow brightened my next many weeks. For the next month-and-a-half, we lived the sweet stuff of romance novels and bed-time stories.

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 a fairytale goal. It was just within our reach. Somewhere along the way, we must have bypassed that "best friends" stage. My most comfortable 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.

There were signs too, in reflection - signs I should have noticed when she told me how she was the family "black sheep", or when she signed back onto the date site - then claimed I told her she had to. Clear warnings should have come in her every "poor me" and when she stalked the forums drama queen (a certain rival of sorts) through every thread, then publicly attacked her with such rabid conviction. I'm so guilty of accepting people at their word, reading silence as acceptance, and seeing "all is right" in a smile.

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, the little pink pills she'd stopped taking (something to cope with the boy's behaviour issues - she claims) 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. It hadn't worked before. Her ex placed too much emphasis on being single and drinking. Responsibility only got in his way. I wondered how he could have any legal rights at all if he'd really beat that child. Conditions in that poor kid's 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 to be there with her. She was worried about an impression I'd get. Mine was already made. Reality does its things to lives, but it doesn't make the person. 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. 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. I spent time with Babe and the kids, and just melted into every second of it. Those kids are great! They took to me just like I was one of the family, and I loved them like they were my own.

Her 17 year old daughter even said I was the dad she'd never had. She was so happy to see her mother smiling again. Her 14 year old son wouldn't trust any guy she was with. He kept hoping his dad and mom would get back together. A month after we started seeing each other, he told his dad to leave her alone. Both of them praised me up whenever their father quizzed. She insisted, nine years after the divorce, 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.

Sometimes I wondered if I was with her too much. Deep down, I felt we'd moved too fast. She set the pace. I promised I wouldn't lead her astray - but I couldn't promise I wouldn't follow. We'd agreed to overnight stays, and it became 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. She excused it as pain from her kidney trouble and fear about her upcoming medical tests so far from home. 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. It was so easy to accept her at her word. She's told the world I was her rock of support.

It started to get obvious - like when she flinched if I touched her in her sleep, or in those silent thousand-yard stares. 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. At times, it felt like she was pushing me away - but she still took the time to let me know she cared.

"What's wrong?" was now answered by an evasive: "Nothing", or: "I already told you before". Our trip to the city was 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 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. Though I didn't know it at the time, this was the last week-end we'd spend together in this place we first made love.

The 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".

It all 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 even 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. Those mixed signals were getting completely fouled by now.

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 part of a chat script that she forwarded to me from some Gamezone buddies about a "threesome" while she was in the city (her too-righteous: "I thought you knew me better than that." in response to a question about the proposal knotted my gut) - 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 in 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 away. That left her daughter in charge of a brother she really can't control. 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 that forums drama queen. Now, accusations heaped on me were getting spiteful. I was a controller, blunt, jealous, untrusting, pushy, selfish. Interesting, I'd seen all of those traits in her already. They who accuse? She flew into a complete rage when I asked about childhood sexual abuse.

My insecurity did not stem from a yesterday. This was here and now. Over the past couple of weeks, she'd given me many reasons to doubt her sincerity. It really felt like she just kept me around for the ride to the city, and to be her protector and tour guide there. Scary 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" in this time away. For the first time, we didn't make love. We had sex.

The week before Christmas, she sent me home again. Now, I was pressing her for intimacies she'd initiated and pushing for tomorrows we'd only talked about - but to the face of the world, she "loved" me as much as ever. I was jealous and controlling because I’d asked her to give up the mutual hostility with her ex. I was possessive just because I was there. She accused me of making her private life public in those forums we'd danced on before. A friend's name spoke from my sleep, sometime weeks ago, means I'm cheating? That's how she found out the ex was. How do you explain to anyone who doesn't want to hear? For the record, I was always faithful to her.

Too much truth may have been coming to light. It escalated to 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. I wondered if she was looking for all the things she hated about him in me, and was finding them. "If you want the SOB so bad, go back to him!" His pet name for her? "Babe"....

Christmas, I discovered her sister wasn't the monster she'd been painted to be. Some family talk about her ex and a comment about stalking upset Babe. 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. Then next day, when things slowed a bit, she read a voice raised in pain and frustration as a temper. Now, she accused I was trying to make her choose between me and 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. Frankly, I didn't recognize the brake lights. My past hasn't shamed me, and I believed in her. That's my biggest mistake. Our versions of the word "space" must have different meanings. My response to cold shoulder is to ask: "what did I do?" Clingy isn't a pretty thing to a lady who's second-guessed a dream and led herself to feel pushed.

The name-calling, the accusations, the interrogations - hers only hurt my confidence. She claimed I haven't let go of my past. What did she expect me to think about her stalking her ex? It's all okay if it's her? Is it really over between them? What else has she lied about? She wouldn't talk, so all I had to go on were guesses and some bad experiences. God forbid, I'd had to dig into ghost relationships to analyse this one. That killed it.

She knew how to be scared. Her father and her ex-husband were abusive - and now she worried about words 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 heard a lot of personal details - or I didn't add enough cover. Babe 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.

She didn't ask; she accused - again. I was caught, and I denied. Somehow, I hoped she still cared enough to back off, read closer and understand the meat of the story - our story: "Triggers". What did I wake 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. In her mind, only she can be right. That name from a dream was someone real, so I must be a liar.

My neighbour is a nurse at the local psychiatric hospital. As a friend, it hurt her to see me depressed and near tears. As a nurse, she fretted about my colour. She knew about my heart condition. 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 "your little miss sexy is a little a bit crazy."

Yes, it went against my morals to show private messages to someone else. I feel my shame. Was it really an outright betrayal of trust? It wasn't done out of malice or to fuel any gossip. My friend is a professional. She read only pertinent information, as therapist and as an interpreter. This lady I love is a very confused and 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.

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. We spoke of counselling. I can admit to my own issues, and seek help with them. She won't have any part of it. What is it she's so afraid of discovering about and admitting to herself?

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 it to the world".

I meant it when I wished her "have a nice life ", but I really didn't want us to be history. I hoped it was the meds - like she insisted - or medical stuff. This door was still open, and she played it. She opened chat as many times as I did. I could tell she was busy with something or someone else. Whether it's head or online cribbage, Spitey does enjoy winning her games. She was evasive - 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, she suggested my 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 had she second guessed us to death?

A week later, a day after her "very personal and I wish you'd respect that" appointment, we met for coffee. That day, on a long drive through the country, we spoke in honest and open terms. It was the first deep conversation we'd shared since early November. I sort of had to keep her talking. 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 for her own cold feet. 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 - or her freedom?

On her invitation, 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. Of course, the ex entered our conversation. Apparently, his new girlfriend was pregnant - and she was upset about it. 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.

When I was 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 earned accusations. She started reading things into my posts when she saw I was back on the forums. Nothing was about her. The tragic truth is, her circumstances are so much like too many ladies I've known. Sad, really. 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, I wouldn't even be speaking with her. It was so easy 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 the truly messed up, and I was getting them in spades from her. Still, I trusted this lady, and told her so. She decided that was a challenge too! It brought on another barrage of her assumptions and faulty attempts at 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 Babe's past has me doubting any guy could stand a future with her. She's driven every man who's ever entered her life away. Cases in point: Me.... Her ex.... Babe's last boyfriend - another internet gamer. He 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.

How often have I heard about this one who stole stuff from her? or the guy who held her down? or that one who wanted her to camp-out the kids? ...or the hitter ...or the cheater. She's always the victim. The love of her life lives across the ocean - another gameboy - some rich British super soldier who makes a lot of promises and talks a lot of sunshine (and seems to have an awful lot of free time for someone so important) Then, there's an ex she won't let go. 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 brakes. 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. 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 whether I'd loved 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. Reality hit me like a brick. In her eyes, I can do nothing right. I heard the classic words of an abusive person from her: "you don't know when to keep your mouth shut." Her son said it: She IS a total control freak! There really is no way to please her. February 4, five months to the day from that day we fell in love at first sight, I closed the door on any "happily-ever-afters" 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 offered so a troubled person knows they aren't alone. Generally, folks seemed to be comfortable with it - if 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 answers that didn't agree with hers. That afternoon, my now-ex's meddling friend (in an alias - another one whose reality is computer games) stuck her nose in. She revealed she was the person who'd got us together and slammed me for just stopping contact with her friend. Then, she switched tack to parrot accusations about things she'd only heard from someone else. I have seen (and taken part in) their tag-team actions before....

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 transcripts and messages. My phone records bear me out that I did not call "every ten or fifteen minutes" all week-end - 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. Babe'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. Faith is a tonic. At the start of this dream, it wasn't a problem. 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 did she feel accused by 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 - then the behind-the-scenes stuff she did with site administration. Wonder what she thought her school-girl stunt really proved aside from temporarily discrediting me. Really, I had no idea what was on her mind. Would she stop at nothing to crush me? For what? All I'd done was love her. Anyone that rabid could be dangerous. What was next on her agenda? It had to be stopped. I have learned one thing from the past - cops get involved when the ante gets upped. They best hear who calls them first.

There are reasons her own sisters and mother have little to do with her. There are reasons she has no real friends - just online buddies. They're not for me to know. Oddly enough, in the way she portrayed her ex in those letters, and in all the abuse she heaped on me, she described herself in detail. That "sweet girl" image I met and fell in love with simply doesn't exist. I can't even like the real her.

She's got her troubles ahead of her yet. 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 it out - attained by means of 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. I'll forgive - but how can I ever forget? A sweet taste from the autumn we loved will linger its lifetime. Part of her is part of me. It was beautiful, but I'd never be comfortable enough to trust in 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.

I feel for her kids. They're the ones who have to live in the shadow of two immature parents. I suspect they'll either live her life all over again, or face years in counselling to shake free from the imprint of being pawns in a very mean and long-running game. Now, I kiss the dream goodbye. Have a nice life, Babe....