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.