It's not that I am a stupid woman, far from it actually. I think it was just something that was out of my control, something that I couldn't put the brakes on to stop. A rollercoaster ride, that's for certain, and a thriller of one at that.  That was my Roger. He walked through life without the slightest idea that he could affect people and just looked out for himself.  Whatever there was that he wanted to do, he did. No conscious of hurting me or anyone else, just did whatever he felt like whenever he felt like. Missed almost everyone of my birthdays and holidays in the process. I swear, to this day I hate the fourth of July just for the mere fact that I was always alone, watching the twilight zone marathon or the honeymooners. Dreaming of him and what he was doing. 

 

After we returned home from France, he did a complete turn about and left again. I had pneumonnia and  I was hos-[pitalized for 10 days, he never once came  to see me. He was gone.  It seems he was always gone, more I guess than he was there.

He was more insecure and self-doubting than I ever was. Took me a long time to figure that one out.

About a year after that, he started a relationship, friends, with a younger gentleman than ran a deli up the block from our house. It was immediate and , I feel, deliberate, on the part of this "friend" that a total transference occurred. Suddenly, everything he needed and loved about me, was now on this guy.

How, and I don't mind saying this, I hate this guy.  But, Roger allowed it, and Roger , like I said before, does for Roger. Always. End of story.

If they aren't the phone 30 times day, they are together. Everything Roger and I did together was now done with this guy. Everything. Food shopping, vacations, atlantic city, mohegan sun, vegas. Clothes shopping, bar hopping, etc. Everything needed a stamp of approval from this guy, nothing was left in the privacy of our home or our bedroom anymore. Everything had to go through him. If Roger and I were on our way to a restaurant on a Saturday Night and the phone would ring, I would beg him not to answer. He did, plans cancelled , he went out with him. No apologies, no "tomorrow, I'll make it up to you," nothing.  And so it went.

At first I tried to be friendly,when he took over our plans for new year's eve so that they could play poker, I was gracious, making food and coffee, and acting like a waitress. But it quickly became clear that I was the third wheel and this guy wanted me out of Roger's life, for good.

When the other players left at 1 or 1:30a.m., he would stay with Roger till almost 6 am.

And, that is when Roger's wiring, his entire thought process,  changed for good.

He was no longer the man I fell in love with  or who fell in love with me. He was a man, who like a child, went after the shiny, new thing, tired of the old. And that new thing was Dan.

And so it was, the beginning of the most tumultous, invigorating, devastating, harmonious,depressing, happiest, loving, hateful time of my life. There was no grey there with Roger, only black and white. He either said yes or no, wanted me or left me. Loved me or threw me away. Cut and dry. No explainations ever. No apologies, not even once. And I was lost, slipping into an abyss of darkness and depression and despondence each and every time, and every time getting worse than the times before. And yet, I couldn't break free of him. I was addicted to him. Not co-dependent as many noveau shrinks would call it, literally addicted to him. I could not function without him, I could not feel myself breathing at times, I could not escape his presence inside me. He was in me, and I was never letting go of him, no matter what hideous things he did to me, no matter how much he wronged me, lied to me, cheated on me, hurt me. I was there, always looking out through rose tinted glasses, always ready to take him back, forgive him and be finally able to breathe again.

It was probably into two years and we were "almost" living together when I found the first list. I was number 37, completely crossed out and dismissed on paper, he was up to number 82. There were little notes next to each name, like someone named Gloria had hurt her foot and others. I was shell-shocked. I found it on the way to the deli on a Sunday morning, as was my ritual, make the coffee, get the papers, fix breakfast and wake him up in the sweetest of ways. I came home and sat there, he didn't know what was wrong at that time. I couldn't breathe. I had actually believed he was true to me, I didn't klnow how or what to make of it. I wanted to get out of there, I made him take me back to my apartment and told him I was ill. I took the list with me. I called several of the girls and asked that they speak to me "woman to woman". Many of them met him on the internet, many said he was single and hadn't been in a relationship in a very long time. Many had sex with him the first time they met. I lost my job because I couldn't deal with the knowledghe. Here was this man that took me away every weekend to the most beautiful and romantic of places, never running out of conversations with, never runnning out of unbelievable and incomparable passion with, having a life I knew nothing about. In never suspected a thing, not in the least. He was so good at lying, he believed them himself. I had no advantage, no defense. I was already hooked, alreadly addicted. Too far gone to be able to kick this habit from my system. It was New Years Eve. We had plans. I dressed carefully, meticulously, waited for him to pick me up. He never did. Three days later, I was still on my couch, in my gala clothes, gone was the hope that he would call me. I found him in Atlantic City, with a baccarat dealer from Trump Towers, this sexykitten that he met online. He said he needed a break, that was all, that was it. He never said he was sorry. Three months later he told me that he had to visit his kids in upstate new york. He called me and spoke to me for almost four hours during his ride home on a sunday afternoon. Told me about the skinnest girl he had ever met, skinnier than me, told me that she was his daughter's roommate in college. I found the chat that week. Turns out it was a girl named Heidi , a bartender in Oneonta, that he met on line and promised to meet him in a hotel room with two other women. Also turns out that he lied to his own children about why he suddenly had to leave early that saturday afternoon. I was stumped and clueless. What was it that I wasn't doing right? I couldn't think of anything. Blaming myself became a way of life for me. I had completely surrended to the charms and manipulative behavior of this "gifted" man. I was adamant that I could break him of this evil and destructive behavior. I'm sure you can figure out the rest. Yes, I was wrong.

I began to drink alot more than I ever did before. I lost my job, my home, my car. Depression fell over me like a blanket and became my constant companion. He was still there, of course, wanting me with the same intense hunger that we had always shared. He really was relentless like that. Perhaps he was trying to make up for hurting me, I will never know, but still I could not let this man out of my life.

And so it went for the next three years after that. We went to France, we made love on the beach in the meditterean every day we were there. I thought I was on my honeymoon. No two people were ever so compatible as we were. Best friend, true friends, knowing the good and bad sides of each other so intimately. Lovers like we were born for each other. There is a phrase that I coined to sum up my emotions and the reality of my feelings for Roger whenever I have to explain my point of view about why I stayed with him for so long to someone else, to you, whoever you are that is reading this.

He was the safest place I had ever known and the worst place I have ever been.

I trusted with him my life, my secrets, my happiness, my soul. I would do anything and everything to assure he was taken care in every possible way. I would never let him want for anything he desired, with  absolutely no consequence to myself at all. Anything, and everything.

After all, I still thought of him as my "gift". And I always will.

Tags: Hopefulness, Gifting, Promise

An introspective of what it means "the heart wants what the heart wants" Just a peek into my t

Tags: Rose, Roger, Promise, Gift

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It started out as most all affairs of the heart often do, with a quick smile and a click inside that begs you , or rather, dares you to want more. More conversation, more flirtatious grins, and that irrestible force of nature that leaves you wondering if this is real. 

It started out by a chance meeting, not looking for anything or anyone, in the middle of an autumn afternoon that was bright with sunshine and fresh with promise. And so it began.

Suffice it to say that all miracles happen for a reason and leave you sometimes wondering and believing and doubting and being bewildered all in a moment's time.

There comes a time in everyone's life when the question arises if we are meant to be alone in this world or if there's something more out there for each of us. A time when we find ourselves reflecting on the past events of our lives and wonder if they are bringing us closer  to our future, our destiny. I don't believe it has to be in any certain decade of our age, everyone's life and growth and maturity is different, that is what makes us so unique in ourselves. No, I believe it happens with a surge of the unconscious mind that begins trying to infiltrate the conscious of our actions and our lives. I believe that most of us don't even know we are experiencing it until something extraordinary or tragic or sad or beautiful occurs to us. And then it might still take some time for the realization to kick in and stop us in our tracks.  And yet, when it does happen, it is amazing unto itself.

Living life through rose tinted glasses, I heard a visiting professor explain that those of us who do favored fairy tales like Cinderella and Snow White, to those of us who favored Jack and the Beanstalk and the like.  The dreamers and hopeful vs. the achievers and realists. I remember feeling quite sad when I was leaving the auditorium after hearing this, I was sure I was in the former group, being a proud lover of Cinderella and looking always for my prince charming to come and rescue me and make me" happy ever after."  But then I began to wonder what would prince charming rescue me from exactly? I had a very nice life at the time. I was smart and beautiful and kind and giving. I worked ata great job, had a nice place to live, was the top in my graduating class. So what could it possibly be? I had no idea that it would take me twenty more years to find out. Twenty years of falling and picking myself up, of hoping  and trusting and believing in the wrong shades of my heart. It was a rude awakening, a blissful and amazing journey and I came out of the shadows and found out for the first time what those fairy tales were truly all about.

His name was Roger. He was the most amazing man I had ever met. At first glance I was certain he was too old for me and just a friendly old guy who happened to stop in the bar for a drink after nine holes of golf. He made me smile when I was sad and he made me laugh out loud, something I never in my wildest dreams thought I would ever do again.  And yet there I was, laughing at ridiculous jokes he had gotten off the internet and hearing funny diatribes about his many adventures in Atlantic City. I think I grabbed onto his heart when after one particular story I pulled out a fresh deck of cards from my purse and his eyes turned an amazing lighter shade of blue and he was visually eager for more of me. I knew it then, he knew it then. How I wish, in that moment of time, what precisely more of me would really mean.

He certainly was a charmer, how much of a charmer I still had to learn and recover from, but he was unique. An entire population could be so easily swayed by his infectious laugh and fantastic smile that I was sure there would be no more wars.  Perhaps that was what had blinded me at first. I immediately forgot what I was so sad about that I was spending this September Saturday in a bar, I immediately liked him. I instantly wanted to get to know everything you could ever possibly know about another person. I wanted to literally bask in his smile for as long as I could. And, I did. But, it wasn't long enough. It would never be long enough. As the same as addicts go chasing their favorite form of happiness, I found myself chasing him. Not literally, just wanting him to be forever there. Forever in my sight , an arm's touch away, even his silence was deafening to me. I never felt that way before, I am sure I will never feel that way again, he was pure magic and I was drawn to him like a virtual moth to a flame. He was my drug of choice, just like I've heard many people say that that first drink, they knew, or that first hit, they were hooked, only mine wasn't store bought or secretly copped, no, mine was living and breathing and standing right in front of me, with those beautiful blue eyes I so suddenly wanted to dive into and stay forever.

So it began and it was amazing.  He was magnetic, he was classy , he was funny and generous. Kindness embraced this man of the like I had never known. His heart was too big even for him, he was a gift. That was how I came to regard him, as a gift. And,  unlike other gifts that we have gotten tired of, he was relentless in his charismatic ways to always leave me wanting more. Always giving me the sense that there was still something I hadn't yet learned about him, I hadn't yet shared with him or laughed with him about. And, just like addicts, I was soon going through withdrawal symptoms when he wasn't around. Tears would suprisingly well up in my eyes when the phone would ring and it wasn't him, I never knew the meaning of loneliness until he would drop me off at home in the mornings and I would cry in the car all the way there. I didn't know what was happening to me. I had no idea that a person could have such an impact on another's heart before. To literally touch him, to touch another person in the most delicate of manners and long for an embrace in those big strong arms, I had no idea that that was my gift. That that was I had heard about twenty years earlier, that that was what rescue meant after all. I didn't know that that was what he was "gifting" me. My prince charming was actually rescuing me from myself.  And he did, and for that I will always be eternally grateful. Sometimes, they say , it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved before. "They" never met Roger. "They" never got lost in the sound of his voice or the blue of his eyes. "They" didn't know. And, for all the breath that is left in me, no one will ever quite understand the magnitude of this one man's impact on my life, in my heart, to my soul. No one will ever truly get the full understanding of my mere words when I describe to them the beauty that was this man. The gift that was my Roger.