A Bittersweet Destruction….

So as me and Jo were getting on each others nerves, I tried to make more “girl time” between my friends and I. We went to this local bar that held a dj, cheap drinks, fine looking men and women, great friends, good conversation, and the occasional interesting bar fight which exposed girls tits now and again.  There was never a dull moment at this place, and there was always an after party to follow, with plenty of booze and cocaine for everyone. It was only a matter of time before someone caught my eye. Now, I wish he hadn’t because he was trouble from day one when I heard the word “Vegas” come out of his mouth…lol!  A friend of mine knew this guy…. we’ll call him “Carl”.  Carl was a smooth talker, but too arrogant for me to tolerate. However, he was full of adventure, so I thought, that drew me to him. Yeah, I still had my own scenario that was dwindling down which I discussed in my prior post, but I had no idea where I stood with that, so it was pretty much free game. It was like teenage years all over again. Endless nights on the phone with countless hours of conversation. Debating back and forth between baseball teams, the latest trends, the dating scene, all while counting the minutes until he had to leave for work at 5 a.m.  How could I possibly resist this? Here’s a complete stranger that thinks I’m important enough to sacrifice his own sleep just to talk about bullshit. We definitely had a connection. He was from a troubled family, and I had thought he had a lot to offer since not only did he have his own vehicle and I wouldn’t have to transport him back and forth to his job, and he actually HAD a full time job. A GREAT job at that.  And his own place.   But you know that joke about the knight in shining armor turning out to be a loser wrapped in tin foil? Well that’s what I got. This guy was driving his car on a Cinderella license because of a default in child support, lived in a studio apartment that was about as big as my walk in closet, and had two kids.  Now, when it comes to me, I’m never one to judge anyone from their past. How can I? You’ve all read my previous blogs right? I’m no one to judge on the fucked up shit people do. How can I fault someone that has as much as they CAN have in that part of their life. As long as I’m happy right?   Right???

The first incident that I couldn’t let go of was on my birthday.  Two months after we started dating. It was New Years Eve and we were at his families house. He was so drunk that in a middle of a conversation about us to his brother in law he proceeded to say that I “was the biggest girl he’s ever been with”.. Okay, well, now “Jo” who I discussed in my prior post was a cook. Whatever, I got comfortable, and yeah I put on a bit of weight. Not disgustingly heavy. I definitely carried it well, but really??? How could he say that. I’ve seen a few of his exes and to even say something like that totally crushed me. And from the looks on the faces of his family, they weren’t too impressed with his comments either.  As he continued through the next two months of resisting calling us boyfriend/girlfriend, it was like I was a child all over again, trying to prove myself like within “daddy issues” to prove that I was worthy enough to be loved and cared for. He resisted, and I persisted. 

 

We ended up being together for three incredibly long years. With bruised faces and egos, arrests, and restraining orders later. It’s still so bittersweet. There were so many instances in regards to other women, lies, friendships that developed so much turmoil along the way.  On the lighter side of it all, this guy showed me a lot of smiles. We did a lot of things together, and I grew very close to his kids. It’s so unfortunate that he became a pathological liar, or so I think. This guy became so bad that he accused me of sleeping with everyone under the sun. I had never cheated on him whatsoever, no matter how much crap he put me through. Well….. except for ONE time, when I woke up on my own couch, in my own apartment, after being tormented all night and then getting a phone call from my mom the next morning telling me to get my ass to her house. Jo had came to Massachusetts to visit. He showed up at my moms house in his brand new car, and told her all about his job, and said “Your daughter told me to get my shit together. And so I did. And I want her back.”  THIS was probably the hardest thing in my life. Here’s the guy I believed was my soul mate telling me that he got his shit together to better his life and to build a life with me, and here I am dealing with with an abusive asshole that I couldn’t understand how he could be so bad to me when I was so good to him.  He told me to quit my job and move out there and that he’d take care of everything until I could get on my feet out there, just so we could be together.  Unfortunately, the town I’m from is all I know. I hate it. But I’m an only child, who’s mom is my best friend, and this is where my family is. I was very nervous about that choice because of how independent I’ve been over the years, which is probably the only thing I can be proud of. I didn’t have a choice. Everyone I’d been with has been broke, or “in a bad spot” that never seems to go away, which leaves me no choice but to fend for myself. Like a cub in a pack of wolves playing the game of survival of the fittest. This really sucks. This isn’t a life a female should live. Yeah it’s taught me some great skills, but for it to be a way of life??? No effin way. 

Anyhow, as I’m in a relationship with a complete douchebag, and here is my god’s gift begging for another chance, I tell Jo that I can’t, because I have to respect the current relationship that I’m in. What a fuckin idiot I was. 

Still didn’t stop me from going out to Connecticut during a huge PowWow in my apartment…..  That was a crazy emotional weekend. I knew where I was suppose to be, but I couldn’t leave my family and my job behind. That’s all I had. I couldn’t trust him while in midst of our conversations he’d be scrolling through his phone. What kind of disrespect was that? It just brought me right back to where I was when I was 27.   How could I possibly have a relationship for the time being with my “soul mate” who lived two hours away, where my jerk boyfriend at the time lived now 30 seconds from my house.  (Yeah I forgot to mention I kicked him out after a long night of fist throwing).  I don’t know what kept me with Carl for so long.  Like I said, maybe it’s a crazy complex that I feel like I need to conquer to just prove to people that I’m really worth loving and that I’m a nice person. It just take a real strong person to claw past my harsh exterior to get to the real me. To show my true self will take a lot of dedication from the person that wants to see it, and it’s not an easy task, but I just can’t afford to put my heart up for gamble anymore….

So the end result with Carl, it got to the point where I didn’t even want to sleep in my own apartment anymore. This was MY place. It was MY name on the rent. I got two bedrooms in case I needed a roommate if things didn’t work out between him and I. We went through stupid endless nights from best friends, to arguing, to sex, to arguing, to distance, to best friends and all over again the next day. This was the true definition of a bi-polar relationship.  After three years though, I really did love him. Maybe not a healthy love, but there was love. The more he accused me, the more of the “tough guy” persona I unleashed, showing that he wasn’t going to bring me down no matter what he said or did. I wanted him to see the strong side of me, not the one he could break with a word or a fist.  Our routine got stale, and we no longer did all that fun shit. I hated that he had to pay so much child support, but respected that I, we, wanted to build memories that brought us close for the things we shared that he would always no matter what put money aside to spend time with ME. It was amazing. He made me feel important in his life. Is that why I stayed and put up with the bullshit? 

There were stories of other women that I turned my head to. Maybe because I knew of the secret sexual encounters that carried over from my guilt between me and Jo throughout that weekend in Connecticut, or when he came to Massachusetts to find me.  Maybe I didn’t see such an issue with the physical aspect of the abuse because I dealt with it so much already and I wasn’t going to let him get away from trying to make this work so easily. I don’t know. I can’t explain it.  Either way, after spending countless nights being faithful, sleeping at moms, sleeping at friends, sleeping in my car, just so I don’t have to face the verbal assault while I walk into my own apartment, I had to end it no matter how I did it. 

That week that he was to move out was the week of our anniversary, and the local govenor issued a warning for everyone to stay indoors due to the storm weather outside. I tried to make the best of it by agreeing to watch a movie and have him stay in the room, because in the meantime he was sleeping in the other bedroom. Which was quite okay with me. It was weird, because I was already past the point of being “okay” with how things were going. That’s just how I am. Once I get to that point, good luck getting me back to the way I once was.  Anyway, here came the trials. Let’s go to the casino. No. Let’s go to the movies. No. Let’s go to dinner. No.  I wanted no part of it, I was done. There was no turning back after everything he had done and made me feel. I couldn’t take it anymore, although I still had love lingering along.  He knew four days from then, he needed to be out…..

Four days later, his shit was still all over the place, unpacked, and he was passed out on the futon in the other room, hungover from the night before filled with his favorite bar with a side of cocaine. I stormed into that room and forced him to go. I had given him a whole month and a half to find a place from the last time we had gotten into a physical altercation and I wasn’t letting him milk it any longer.  He called his sister to stay in her building and a group showed up to move his stuff out. I stayed in my room, and cried. My mom and aunt came over for emotional support, and he was gone…. until a few days later… and then the torture began…..

Me. The International Cover Up….

So after all the scenarios I’ve already filled you in on,  decided to stay low-key and spend time with the one true friend I really had. She was my best friend. Let’s call her Lola.

Lola and I have know each other since we were little kids. We had tried many times over the years to spend time together, but Lola was in a relationship with someone that was very controlling, and manipulative, and the father of her two kids. Well, this time around, they had split up. He had cheated on her with some other girl and got the girl pregnant. So Lola and I became “Us Against The World”.  We loaded up all of our free time with dance clubs, alcohol, booze cruises, concerts, after parties, you name it. We had so much fun, and I was doing well with keeping my legs closed at the same time.  We had partied with celebrities, which, was my breaking point when I hooked up with a famous music artist that had a concert at a local venue.  Make that two famous music artists, two separate times. I also dated a basketball player for a little while. We didn’t see each other much since he was traveling for games all the time. We never hooked up. Mostly because when he’d come back close to home and I’d see him, he’d be so fucked up on weed, cocaine, and ecstasy that I couldn’t even have a decent conversation to catch up with him. It was becoming a turnoff to me to just have sex with nothing else attached to it, and started feeling like a skanky groupie.

Then one stressful day, Lola and I went out to a local dance club that I had once worked at before as a shot girl/go-go dancer/bartender.  We tried to make it for last call, but arrived as people were exiting the club. For me having connections with this bar, I tried to get in anyway so we can have some free drinks.  As I’m walking through the parking lot, I was stopped by this absolutely beautiful man looking for some conversation. Wow, this guy was tall, tan, blue eyes, and gorgeous. I could tell he was confident, but the shy type, which I’m incredibly attracted to. We quickly swapped numbers and called it a night.

I spoke with him over the phone a few times during the week, and by the weekend we made plans to hit a local bar for some drinks and conversation. He was already going to be there with a buddy of his. Excitedly, I went. His friend was pretty cool, and the hot guy, let’s call him Don, was even hotter this time around, but I soon found out he was a kinda dumb. Seemed a little confused or something. Nonetheless, I pursued it, thinking, “Well, if he’s kinda an idiot, I’ll be holding the reigns in this relationship. I can rock his world, be the true girl that was hiding behind all my insecurities and skankiness, and this could be a beautiful thing”.  This was clearly a guy that was beautiful, but didn’t know it.  Security.

Things got weird after a few weeks. He only wanted to meet up at his friends houses, or out around the town. He didn’t care who saw us together, so I wasn’t worried it was another woman. But he just didn’t want me to come to his house. I thought, eh, this guy must be a dude with a small ass messy apartment that he’s embarassed about, or maybe he lives with his parents, or something else that he didn’t want to admit to me as a ‘man’. I let it go, and decided that whenever I have something good, I pick apart all the little things to find something that I can use as an excuse to not get close so I don’t get hurt.

Then, Don popped the question. Not to get married, but to go on a vacation internationally. His parents lived in another country and he wanted me to meet them, along with his brother.  He told me to get my passport, and to pay for my flight, and he would pay for everything else while I was there. I was so excited, but scared since I didn’t know him for very long. But, fuck it! My ass went to Spring Break by myself and risked homicide, why not go with this gorgeous man that I could probably kick his ass if I tried, and be treated to a tropical vacation?  It’s about time a man treats me to something nice for genuine interest in me.  I put my insecurities aside, and dished out the cash for an airline ticket.

Now, because of my job, I only had the time to vacation for one week, while Don was going for two. I figured I’d buy my ticket to travel a few days after he’d already been there, and leave before he does. You know, so he can spend time with his family beforehand, and then talk about me and get his families opinion about me afterwards. I was so excited to go. I had never been out of the country, and here’s this beautiful man fulfilling one of my dreams already.

Now here I am, traveling on the plane alone. I get to the Dominican Republic, and I’m literally the only white person in a three-city radius. Obviously my cellphone doesn’t work here, and no one speaks english.  I’m standing there alone with my luggage, while the entire population is staring me down as if I was a piece of red meat in a pack of wolves. People were yelling out the word “gringa”, and people coming up taking pictures of me. It was like the paparazzi, but honestly, I was a little scared.

Finally I was able through some lamens communications with a cab driver, I got them to call the phone number Don gave to me that I was able to reach him at in this country. They called him and he was stuck in traffic. I was so relieved to see him show up when he did, and was ready for an extravagant vacation. We were to spend a few days at an all-inclusive resort, and then a few days at his brothers house. People in this country were crazy. They would jump in front of cars throwing water on the windows and wiping them with their other hand sticking out for money. This was indeed a very poor place to be. The resort was beautiful, however, I didn’t get the quality time with Don that I was looking for. He got very friendly with the waitresses speaking a language that I didn’t understand and it was a bit uncomfortable. We did though do some fun activities which I will never forget. The downside of this guy? He sucked in bed. I chalked it up to it being the thorn of the rose.

When I met his family, I fell in love with them. They were so good to me. It was hilarious that I got so much attention being the “white girl” just from standing outside his brothers clothing store. After some drinks, I started dancing outside yelling to people to come to the store and buy stuff. I made the best out of a poor city.

Then, one day at the resort, Don was about to excuse himself, saying he had to call home and check on his daughter. Yeah, he had dropped the bomb on that earlier about a daughter. I realized that it must’ve been why he didn’t want me to come over. He didn’t want to expose his daughter to another woman. I get it. It’s okay.   I understood that. Anyhow, I told him that it was a great idea, and that I should probably call home myself. He gave me a funny look, and I thought, “oh damn, this is it… this dude is about to be sneaky and now he can’t sneak off and talk to a waitress since I’ll be right there”.  This resort had a souvineir shop which contained a few “phone booths”, which was really small sections with sheets creating a cube like in a hospital room that you can obtain your privacy. As we both walked towards the store, he sat me down and said he needed to speak with me. I sat down and he told me that he was really going to call his wife.     His WHAT?!?!  How could he pull this off? We had spent a lot of time together. I had gone to all his softball games, met his friends, visited him at work, met his family, went to another COUNTRY with this man.  Instantly, like an allergic reaction, I went into my “fight or flight” mode. Pissed of the betrayal, but had to play nice in the sand box since I was in a foreign country and didn’t wanna be left stranded.  That quickly changed to “Fuck this guy… what an asshole…. but hey, he wants to show me the good life, obviously I must be better than her…..”

This was my problem. My high was knowing that I was good enough for SOMEthing. Even if it was negative. If I can get you to deceive the person you marry, then I apparently must be hot shit to SOMEone.  The rest of the trip I spend drinking, dancing, trying to speak the language to communicate, and enjoyed nothing but the vacation, and less of the fact that I was there with a beautiful, and unavailable, man.  I was so hurt that when I went into the phone booth, I called up my ex in tears….. which I will tell you about him in my next blog.  The love of my life. The one that got away. SMH.

So obviously, as I mentioned earlier, I was coming home before Don was.  When I came home, I linked back up with the ex the very next day to work the relationship out.  When I saw Don’s buddy that I had met in the beginning, I confronted him asking why he didn’t tell me about Don’s wife. Now I know the whole “guy code” thing, but me and his friend had built a good friendship over time. Don’s friend says, “OH….. THAT’S why you’re upset???”  I was taken aback by it. I asked him what else could have upset me about Don?  Then he told me the truth about Don….

Apparently, Don lived in the Dominican Republic and was in a heavy relationship with a radio disc jockey. Who was a man. Don’s father said that ‘no son of his was going to be a faggot…’ and threw Don out of their house and disowned him from the family.  He moved to the United States, found a woman, married her, had a baby and tried to “prove” he wasn’t gay, which was the reason he wanted me to meet his family. To show he was such a ‘man’ and loved women so much that he had TWO on his plate.   REALLY?!?!  The Lifetime Movie Channel doesn’t even get this good…….

Fuck My life.