3 years of darkness

The nightmare Sunday I just lived might not sound strange to your ears, but from my insides, it still feels I am watching a bad drama. How low am I? How can I be so inhumane. I have spent 14 hours of rage, varying from hitting my partner, biting him, chicking him with my boots, chocking in anger, fear, disappointed, broken dreams and finally breaking a (plastic) water filter in my own head. I bleed and he gently pressed toilet paper, helping to sooth my exterior wound while we were both lying in a cold bathtub with no water, which is where I decided to hide.
The story of how we got here and how I got to be this person is very long. It probably starts with me growing up in a traumatising environment, learning from the age of 7 that I was my mum’s only protection against my drunken, irresponsible, violent father.
I never really thought I needed to go to therapy because of it. My mother was an angel and an example. She divorce. Not in an era of feminism,human rights and passport holders. She was a daughter of an orthodox priest, in a small town of the communist Romania. My father was big cheese, it this how they call it in English? In communist terms, he had access to power, by heading a high school, facilitating access to the limited education the state would provide for its people. Anybody who wanted to ‘become something’ wanted to attend high school, this particular high school.(yes, high school,not Uni, we are talking about a rather rural part of communist Romania, where young people’s faith was closely tied to the ground. Literally, most people would become land workers, squeezing resources to feed the ‘growing ‘ economy.) My father did an excellent job at equipping and modernising the school and the associated facilities.
My mother survived the beatings, the cheating, the humiliation, the divorce, the false witnesses my father paid during the trial. She outsmarted the system and she managed to move us to a different town. Nota benne, at the time, each individual would have an ID card which dictated their faith. Ashes to ashes go into the same ground! You were not to leave your town. You could not migrate from one job to another, buy a house as you pleased. The state did not allow it. My mother yet found a way, bribing her way with valuable religious objects (forbidden at the time) she migrated to a bigger, better city. She never mentioned the word tiredness, depression, can’t deal with it, can’t cope with it. At first she had two jobs, then when the borders opened she worked in the ‘West’ and a few years down the line, she owned 3 apartments. She renovated them, she drilled holes, she moved furniture, she carried, she lifted and she did an admirable job at being a wonderful, dependable human being. She made friends, she loved me and my sister with dedication and passion. She was a good teacher, she was a fantastic sister, the kindest friend to her friends. She worked hard and never complained. She never remarried and never loved another man. She died at 56 loving my father. Was she ever angry? Maybe. But she was mainly beautiful.
We never talked about our past as being traumatic, we lived happily. Ghosts of my father and my mum’s profound spirit of self sacrifice, communism and certain material lacks have not doomed us. I had my issues of course. I never really knew my value and I lived with unnecessary inferiority complexes, but I taught myself on the way. I took up yoga, I stayed in meditation retreats, I am a reiki master. I try, everyday to understand my universe and the way I relate to people. Yes, I like ‘trophy’ men, yes, I do use my looks to get by, yes, I like attention, yes, I seek approval and admiration. yes, I have done things I regret. yes, I have hurt men. yes, I was confused. yes, breaking things liberates me. But I am not broken, I don’t manipulate people, I don’t chose the ‘easy way’ and I try to be good, supportive company for my friends and family.
I say I am not broken, but I was. I was, for the past 3 years. It all started almost exactly 3 years ago. (16th of December.) I was a ‘mature’ student taking up an University course when I feel under the spell of my charismatic, uber intelligent, good looking teacher. After an Univ event we ended up sharing a bus ride together, we talked ardently about creativity, art and numbers. He invited me to a mint tea and told me about his near death, through

food poisoning, experience in South America. We formed a bond, we start txting, spending time together, sometimes veiled by London’s fog till the early hours of the day. (2 am to be more precise. I introduce dates and hours because later on I realised keeping scores of them would be crucial to my mental stability. EWR ( which is the acronym I am going to use to name the man I was fastly and fatally falling in love with) would change his story regarding events and when they took place and for a while that got me very confused. Later I realised if I record things clearly in my head I can stand up to him. It proved I stood up to him less vertically than I would have preferred, contrary to my initial plans, I stood horizontally while he wiped his feet on me. )
The explanatory parenthesis being closed, I will proceed to unavailing a couple of details about what happened next. In the night of the 16th of December, after my final exam of the semester, we made love passionately. I was sooo head over heals in love with him. Him even looking in my direction was the compliment of my life. Me, the little Eastern European who landed in this vast city of immensities, of knowledge and greatness. I felt little, a bit lost despite the fact this was not my first migratory experience. I immigrated to New Zealand, but I had a partner, a dependable partner which shielded some of the shock. Here, in London, I was alone, I left my old life in New Zealand in search for more development and surprising discoveries. (growing up uprooted makes it relatively easy for me to feed my curiosity. I fear novelty, but it drugs me too. looking at my life, one would not observe linearity).
As I was discovering him I was discovering a new world. He would take me places, talk to me in his highly polished academic words, he would enchant me and surprise me with
his ,what I thought to be, freshness.
It the heat of the night I found out he is not single and a lovely fellow coworker shares his passion for academia as well as his bed. Never mind, I am not a saint. I was on the verge of a breaking relationship, we could start over together. Dream, built, co-exist better within our new nucleus than we did with our current partners. I don’t want to introduce cheap philosophy in the equations, but, seriously, I thought my new happiness was hiding under my ability to wait, to allow us to grow together in a way that would become meaningful and inseparable, I would dream.
At the time I have casted all sorts of dramatic affirmations. “I don’t have a strong expectation about how things need to be’ (where on earth did that come from? well, on my way from New Zealand and London I stopped in India. I guess I was still under the influence. I wanted to be that liberated, spiritual person I was grooming inside. Little did I know that required more digging into memory, personal strength and effort I could deploy at the time and I was going to end up depressed, financially, emotionally and spiritually broke. ) I also said to him I am not bothered by the fact he is with someone else and we can have a ‘free spirited’ encounter for as long as it would last. (two months later I was begging him to leave his girlfriend).
The time lapse of our personal history moved faster than the Eurostar train,surpassing sceneries in which we were always together. Sleeping in his office on the floor while he was still working, cycling together to discover more of the wonderful city, more of London, more of us. We talked, we laughed, we made love, lots of it, in a way I never have.With a soft touch, he would transfer this weight and his warmth all over me, his embrace, his smell, his smile, his grip. It felt designed for me, to allure me away from any form of rationality, I would succumb to his charm, his body, his schedule, his moods, his girlfriend's imagine in my head. He didn’t seem to be bothered at all by the fact that we would make love almost everyday and then he would leap straight to her bed without washing. These incidents were not accidental, he did it with regularity and detachment. He said they haven’t slept together for more than 1, 5 years. He said their relationship was always open because she works more than 7 months of the year away, he said, she said her only

expectation was that ‘the other woman’ is nothing more than a passenger, one ready to be discarded when she calls, when she is in town.
February, he acknowledges our closeness is growing and I acknowledge I was pregnant. By than I wanted him, I adored him, I adulated him. I was growing mildly jealous and told him I need to move on but he charmed me bak each time.He scheduled his inner emotions very generously. Till about 2 am in the morning was allocated to me, the abortion we decided to go through, the rest to her, who continued to receive him in her bed unsuspectedly.
Then they started talking about separation and I was all over the moon. I didn’t acknowledge the accumulating anger. My father, my mother’s sad history never came to mind, but I guess it was lurking and I was growing uneasy. I started pressuring him to take a final decision. I cried each time he left to sleep in her bed. She moved out and then moved in back again. She wasn’t ready to let go and despite some pathetic decision of breaking off our relationship I did nothing but assist to my own degradation.
What I didn’t mention : at the time, he was depressed, his career wasn’t going very well, student complaints kept poring in, his course was described as a failure by all my colleagues ( who don’t know to the date we were together). I did my best to protect his reputation, I kept telling other teachers I wanted him to be my supervisor because he was so helpful in helping me chose a topic for dissertation. I made an official complaint about the course administrator in which I was saying that the content of the course and the teacher was great, but the admin was deplorable and that is why people are dissatisfied.
I have neglected my own studies, during the course I was dreaming of him, I would skip courses to hide under his desk while he begrudgingly corrected student papers and inefficiently prepared for his courses. EWR is brilliant, his intelligence shines from afar, but he was going through a difficult period. I could not care less if he would lose his job and become a street sweeper, I loved him, the way he was inside, for his hidden softness. Later on he said he had to leave me because I am not encouraging his academic career. What can I say. I met many academics that year. Not impressed. A pretentious, fame devouring bunch. I loved him, the way he was. Maybe that is part of my Easter Europeaness.. I seek to know your soul. I appreciate the effort you invested to polish your mind, but, sometimes we lose at getting that intelligence translated in the best job, or a best seller. I am not a high achiever you can say. What I do, I do it because it moves me. I don’t draft up goals. What I have accomplished was driven by my inner need to walk the path, to draw the conclusions. Don’t get me wrong. I am not a loser. I worked in HR, I owned my own shinny car and my name glows away on a house property paper. I am fit, fun, I can stand in my head, I know how to be pleasant and sociable. I know have my own business after 3 years of living in London. I bill, I live, I survive, I will have a personal photo expo, I have travelled the world, I hold two passports that confer me freedom and the identity I chose to have. I could be a deep, thoughtful Eastern European who read Dostoyevsky in full, loves Tarkovsky and trembles at the sight of human tragedy. I can be a smily New Zealander who can travel the world with no visa restrictions. I have surpassed the destiny I was fitted with. I speak 4 languages, I have MSc from a prestigious University. I am not a published author and I still fear public speaking. I am normal, modest person. i could have done better, but I am not too bothered by this. I have done what I could. I have survived the divorce, immigration, my mother’s sudden death, my communist thinking, my over sensitive soul. To a good degree you can say I have adapted well to the world.
Do you see a narcissist in me? Not sure and I guess this is why I am here. To find out. If you have the patience and the time to reply.
EWR and I remained together in a way I could not comprehend. The girlfriend stayed in the house and him and I continued to make love freely with me being able to visit when she was not in town. Her underwear, her many creams, her vibrator, all reminding me the man I cared for would subject me to daily torturous encounters with his lack of ability to

conclude this relationship. When we met he said to me that he’s been waiting for her to leave for the last 4 years. (later on he said it was his idea to move in together and she was ambiguous about it). He also said she is leaving and she only comes by the apartment to collect things. (later on I found out she was there regularly, still bringing him presents and him still bringing her presents as if I was just a mere causality that would eventually go away, rising softly towards more welcoming hemispheres, just like London’s fog, rising softly, giving into pollution).
Pollution- that’s what I was. When I accidentally broke his tea cups he said I was insensitive, when I have pleaded him to tell his gf the truth he said I was selfish because she can take as much time as she wants to accept the relationship is over. In principle, that is a nice thought. EWR is a genius at fabricating beautiful, acceptable scenarios. What was wrong with the picture was the fact the he allowed the woman to still buy items in the house, the fact that she came back from a holiday in the US (she is American, so is he) and settled her new printer in the working space (the one the three of us were sharing). The fact that they were still going to the movies together, still chatting, she was still sending him photos of herself from the places she would travel to. What was unacceptable to me was the fact that I told him my family history and I did say to him I have a sore spot when it comes to receiving male attention. I didn’t cope well with sharing him. She seemed to have gotten used to it and he never opened the subject about her moving out for the next 5-6 months or so.
When my Uni course has finished I was facing a lot of anger. I had an abortion and he was not there, I had a bike accident and he was not there, I had invested my energy in supporting his depression and I was depleted of optimism myself. I have spent all my finances going out to his favorite bars and restaurants (very expensive places), I had fucked up my dissertation because I was too weak to focus on it, and him, my supervisor, never paid any god damn attention to what support I needed. Please note, English is my second language and when I left Uni. in Romania we still had drawers from where you pulled reference cards for the library books. I felt uneasy at Uni. , not smart enough (it turned out asking good research questions it’s a skills you learn, but I didn’t know that at the time and I was questioning my abilities).
Every street of London had a story about how we did something together. Every place was him. I didn’t feel the need to make too many friends I had him. I had him in my heart, in my thoughts, in my dream, in my plans. He, not so much. I asked him if I could move in with him while I am looking for a job and he hired a car and placed me at a friend’s place (thanks god for immigrant solidarity). He said he will talk to ISA (his ex who in the meanwhile decided it’s not longer necessary for her to sleep in the other room, and moved back into their bed.) He said he did and he said I can move in with him. We took a trip to Scotland and he said by the time we would be back she would be gone. When we were back ALL her things were there except a blanket he hid in the closet. He started yelling at me full blast saying I was selfish, driving this person out of the HER house and I had no reason to be upset about the fact that she didn’t take all her clothes away. THERE. THEN. I had my first crazy outburst. I opened all the drawers and took all of her clothes out asking him why is she still there. Screaming, choking myself in my word. I left that night with bus 52. I arrived at my friend’s place around 2 am. I emailed ISA and I asked her what went wrong and why was she still in the house. Is this awful? I simply wanted to know. I simply wanted to be with him. He later said I used him to get myself sorted.(because I didn’t have a place and a job at the time). Now I have to draw a bit of attention to me again. I am not ugly, I am a pleasant, clean, hard working, traditional woman. I cook, I clean, I do the shopping. I iron shirts. I hand wash wool pullovers. I shave regularly. I stand in my head and I am fit and fun. Earlier that year. I have met a very noble soul who feel in love with me with sincerity. He said to me he would love me for both if he had to. He reassured me he comes from a respectable family and I will never be in lack of support. At the same time

the man I left in order to built a new utopia with EWR was quite well off. So well off and talented that he didn’t have difficulties charging his clients 20 thousand dollars for one project. The agreement that I broke between me and him sounded something along these lines : we immigrated together and while we didn’t have visas and worked illegally you took your snobbish little ass and worked in restaurants, embalming your curly little hair in garlic, which I know you hated since childhood. You have encouraged me to stay home and paint beautiful painting while you humiliated yourself receiving tips (no comments here from the American audience. I did find tips humiliating). Now I am making more money we can spend, so let me pay for your tuition course. Let me pay for your little ass to continue enjoy comfort. And he would have. But what did I do. I broke off our pact because I didnt think our love was pure enough anymore. I broke it off for a man who later on allowed me to carry my belonging to his place in a red big London bus. One bag pack 16-18 kg. One suitcase about 20kg and as many clothes I could carried on myself.
Could I have done worse for myself? Most likely not. But falling asleep next to him was more rewarding than that the rest of the world had to offer.
Infuriated ISA moved out and I move in. But our space was paved with my anger for him abandoning me. I supported his depression, I have been through and unassisted abortion, I have defended him in from of my colleagues, I have given him my life and my energy and in return. I got this :
you are like a car with only 4 gears.
you are narrow minded because you don’t allow ISA to sleep in my bed. I told you I am 
no longer attracted to her.
you are possessive
you are paranoid
you have a problem - yes, I do, I say, and you are making it worse by not taking a firm 
decision.
you are insensitive because you broke my tea cup and tried to replace it with one of 
inferior quality. yes, I did, I bought him a new set of tea cups from Camdem market, 
what I could afford at the time
you are irresponsible because you didn’t change me as your tutor . True, the problem 
was none of my 25 colleagues wanted to be under his supervision. At the time (though I now things have changed and he has regained control over his career) his students saw him as pretentious, arrogant, over demanding, unclear.
you are getting fat
you are no longer fun
10.you criticise me too often
And did I just do that. Yes. To the bottom of my lungs. I screamed he was unsupportive. I yelled he was insensitive for jumping from one bed to another. I yelled he had no respect for ISA. I screamed he had no respect for me. I cried when I found out he started taking ISA out after I moved in. Apparently to apologise. I was angry when he started telling me what a lovely woman he was. When they were living together he used to describe her as ‘toilet paper conversation’.I yelled when I found out his best friend was a woman he slept with when he needed sex. (his words.But a long time ago, came his words of comfort). I screamed because I didn’t understand why she would not say hello to me at Univ, considering she was one of the TA too. I screamed because I had a dream and he broke it. I gave him the opportunity to break up with me. I told him plainly about how my mother raised me to be little, supportive wifey that would come home early to ensure dinner is ready. I told him I had my fights with my traditional identity. I was fine with it. I don’t need to be the modern kiwi/australian/american emancipated woman. I can sit by the pot and cook. Sure, I will have a job, sure I will make money, sure, I will have friends, my life and yoga, but deep down I believe in partnership. You get my back and I get yours. You pay

the bills when I can’t. I am here when you are depressed. I didn’t know EWR was self made as he describe himself to be. A lonely, smart black kid from the hoods of Alabama. I grew up in communism. We share. He grew up leaving a woman in each city. Tears, cries, attachments were mere inconveniences for him. He loved ISA because he would help him generate ideas and give him freedom to sleep with other women while, she herself would sleep with other people when working in Africa. I I came out of a traditional relationship and I was trying to recreate it. He never had a relationship (not that I heard of) based on mutual input. I was angry and unaware of all these implications. The more I was trying to be supportive the more I was facing icy cold words and withdrawal.
I tried to tidy up the place and I was accused of trying to take over it. I tried to clean his stuff and he told me I was not his mother. I fixed, repaired just like my mother did. I took heavy bags of dirty clothes to the washing without asking for help or complaining and he asked me if I needed to be applauded. I wanted to go to Morocco for Christmas but he wanted to go to Sweden. I have orgenised that. A friend of mine I met in NZ and her family opened their house to us, then they gave us the house key to a lovely little beach house they owned. We spend time by the fire. Me angry. Him elusive. I was depressed. Defeated. I was selfish and un empathetic towards ISA’s needs. She needed to stay in the house till January (almost one year after the initial talk about breaking up) and I threw her out.
I took up a job I hated and I hated our interaction. I hated my jealousy and the fact that he activated so much insecurity and fear. I tried to leave and he would stop me. Sometimes with nice embraces, sometimes by making me feel guilty. I threatened to cheat. I grew desperate, I grew bitter. He left me.
Well he went for a holiday to visit his parents in Alabama. There he met with a friend and they got drunk and slept together. Later on he said I forced him to move in with me and because I am an emotionally unstable person he wasn’t sure he wanted to live with me and that is why he slept with her. I told him I would have respected him if he came home, communicated this to me, gave me time to digest the news and them hook up with her.
In all fairness he came back and told me he wanted to break up because our relationship was destructive. It was. I never thought he loved me so the fact that he stayed while I was screaming became my only prof of his love. What he forgot to mention was that he was breaking up with me because he wanted to be with this other woman. She had a more positive view on who he was, she was an academic too, she made him feel creative.
She was more useful to him. So useful that while I was still living in his house he sneaked out at 4 am to go visit her in Italy. I woke up because the light was on ( I am a light sleeper) and saw him leaving the house. In total dismay I asked him where he was going and he said : Italy and then he wrote me and email entitled “apologies’ re-assuring me this other woman, MUN, was nothing but a friend and he is not sexually attracted to her. I later found out they slept together in US, they slept together in Italy while he was telling me that he needs to spend some time away from me because I cry too much and I have become poisonous for him and his career, which all of the sudden became important to him because of his brief immersion in his past. He used to run some big museum in DC and his friends and family reminded him of his grandeur or as Marquez would put it ,of his ‘autumn’.
I eventually moved out and accepted he is not the sort of person who talks things out, he has a new victim. I knew nothing of NPD at the time. I took on all the criticism. I felt manipulative, hurtful towards his friends. Controlling. Privacy invader.
Now here comes a topic I need to be open here. Privacy. He always accused me I have violently penetrated it as a brutal violator, stealing away a virgin’s hymen.
The first time I broke into his email I found out that ISA was still sending him photos of herself and of chairs that could possibly go into the house despite the fact they were planning to break up. Then I read the conversation in which he tells her she needs to move out. He tells her she needs to move out because him seeing her things it’s too painful. At

the same time, at my objections that her things bother me he would respond that I am oversensitive, they are only things. Nowhere in that conversation ISA agreed to move out. She asked if they have decided she is the one who needs to move out and tells him that the fact the he has someone else doesn’t bother her that much.
When he came back from US I broke into his computer again to understand his relationship with is new ‘friend’. I could not find any incriminating conversations so I have taken the liberty to txt this woman, telling her I have heard a lot about her and was wondering if she can tell me a bit about herself, mainly if she has slept with EWR while I stupidly believed we were a couple. EWR went crazy because I have done that and told me I am abusing his friends. Therefore I found it necessary to apologise. She hasn’t replied directly but sent him a message she asked to be fwd to me saying : I am sorry you are hurting, I am not the cause of your hurt. I later found this message on his old phone. She was the cause of my hurt and hers too because unknowingly she walked into her own karma, a year later he would cheat on her with me.
I left my love, filled with accusations and guilt. I must have been a really bad person I said to myself and I cut my hair so short and made myself so ugly knowing for sure I am not worthy of love, care and support. I left my job and I was planning to leave my past behind. Deep down I knew it. I deserve better. I had better. I can do better. I can have the career I want, love, care. Let me just rest for a bit and I shall resurrect. Not Lazarus style, but just like us humans do, crack a joke, cry on a friend’s shoulder, buy a self help book, make false promises to yourself, delude yourself it was not that bad and hope the memories of him will grow fonder and founder as summers and fog take over London Bridge, Tower Hall, Big Ben and all the other things that remained exclusively objects of the dream/ nightmare him and I shared on the scene of this grandiose, colonialist city.
With the crazy, screaming, manipulative bitch out of his house he orgnises himself a trip to Greece which he presents to be as being an extended business trip and calls me silly rabbit for not believing him. I later found photos of him smiling gaily in the presence of a ‘friend’ who hosted him for free. In his endless generosity he allow me to stay at his place while he is away and I decide to tidy it up, clean it up, buy some joyful yellow tiles, plant some yellow girasoles and make a soup while I shamefully exit the house upon his return. I must have uttered so many words of apologies that he decided to sleep with me and tell me to come home. Home? Who me? Are you talking to little me? Of course I went back running. Then I continued my journey to even hotter places than his presence. Sicily, Barcelona, Romania and finally El Camino. 850 kg of pilgrimage should make me a better person I hoped. I believed in miracles, of any kind, religious, scientific, personal, group hysteria, all of it seemed a likely cause of happiness. Not a lasting one. After an exhilarating happy summer I came back ‘home’. To his place, which I have found covered in woman’s hair. To his busy schedule who would now revolve around making more time for his friends( like ones he needed to take shopping to Ikea in the very first weekend I have arrived home after a 3 months absence).
My tone is ironic as it is desperate, I was a monster in his eyes, a manipulating, materially interested,crying, yelling bitch. All his friends agreed. Just like mine agreed he is a self involved, using bastard. I grew paranoid. My all my fears, all my insecurities, I was depressed, scared, defeated. I was running out of money, I didn’t have a job and didn’t want to go back to HR. I was a stranger in a home I loved, in the life of a man who felt he needed to protect himself from me. New episodes of rage surfaced from my soul. I saw an email in which ISA who now became one of his closest friends was expressing her delight to the fact that he told her he still had feelings for her. In an explanation to me tells me he was only in contact with her because I have asked him to remove some of her stuff that was still in the house. As a consequence of my delict I have been punished severely. I was told that house is his and he would rather throw me out because he and ISA they had a an agreement and he is not going to injure his generosity towards her because of my whims. I

have explained that the time I have spent on the Camino opened me to being more sensitive and there are certain things I find difficult to cope with. One of them was shopping in supermarkets, knowing how greedy they are and having her stuff under our bed.
I had to put my feelings aside. ISA’s stuff is still in his house and I am still monstrous because I asked to have it removed. ISA is 37, she has a full time, well paid job, a loving, supportive, rich family, but she refuses to take a place of her own, sleeps in at friends’ places because she works 7 months in Africa and doesn’ t want to pay the rent. Am I selfish here? I just wanted our home to be our home.
And I cried and I screamed and I asked him to get rid of some old chairs I didn’t like and I emailed ISA to take her stuff away, I was back were I started. My cousin begged me to move away. My best friend reminded me she is ashamed of my behavior, my aunt told me my mum would turn in the grave seeing how I conduct myself. No job, no aim, no dream. My god damn dreams, my EWR. All gone. So I cried and I bit him again when he told me he went out to the cinema with a friend. I told him so far I havent’ met a friend who he hasn’t had a BJ from and I was very annoyed. He told me I was vulgar. I was and I continued to be since he went out with one of his ex students.
It was a Sunday. Our good days felt like good days do. He was outside washing the bikes, I was fitting a drape. I am sure it was much more domestic and less grandiose as he would have wanted it but I was happy. At some point he said he is going to go meet Ellie ( the good friends he slept with when he needed sex, but that was a lot time ago and now and I should not feel uneasy about it). For a second I choked in my own thoughts. Paranoia. Guilt. Fear. What an imbecile, this sweet man of mine assuages me, there is nothing I need to worry about. If a situation like ours, in which he felt attracted to someone else would ever arise, he would tell me, he would not do the same thing he did to ISA. He understands how hurtful it was. I feebly asked : so, who are you taking out tonight. He said.. my name.. so smoothly, so calmly, just like a parent to a child. He dressed himself well and left. Now EWR is a cyclist, he has these cycling pants, very cool, they look like suit pants but are made out of this really cool material that makes them look as if they are constantly off the clothing line. Impeccable, just like he portrays himself to others. In reality the pants are kind of old and he looks much better in others. So he didn’t take his cycling pants which was my second alarm.
Then I call him and he doesn’t pick up. I call him later and he replies sweetly asking me what I want for dinner. I said I am more interested in finding out why he couldn’t pick up his phone, and he tried to charm me into painting the perfect dinner setting, offering to cook my favorite pasta. He comes home and I refuse his dinner, tearfully explaining that our relationship is fragile and this type of instances throw me off a sharp edge, into the crevices of all the times he lied to me. He continues to fiddle with his bike and I crawl on the floor in agony, despair. Who am I? This paranoid bitch who needs to check on her man every hour he is away? Who am I to this person, who dressed up nicely and comes back to me with a lovely Christmas present. The date. 15 of December, 2012. A day away from our anniversary. The present, a lovely tea set. The truth. He went to meet up with one of his ex students. Veronica. Spanish. Doctor. My instinct was stronger than my dignity. I haven’t checked his computer and phone for 7 months, why should I give into this disgusting idea. But I did and there she was. Veronica. Spanish. Doctor, confirming in a txt the place where she is waiting for him. Him, gladly confirming he is on his way.
I confront him, I show him the txt and I tells me it’s my fault he lied, in a normal situation, he would not have done it, but because I am so paranoid and hysterical, he had no choice but to ‘take private time’ as he later called it in a email to her. In the same email he tells her he has been trying to get rid of me since I came back from the Camino and that is why he didn’t tell her he was in a relationship. Obviously the ex student was falling in love with him, just like I did. They exchanged personal stories about her abortion, ( medical reasons

this time), he advised her to look into a career in social sciences because medicine is so limited and she agreed, while later on casually told me that she would never make it in social sciences because of her personality - not confident. Can I be outraged here? Is it appropriate? This is not about me, but I find out so unfair to offer this woman life suggestions while he clearly didn’t believe she was capable.
So, Veronica. We wake up, me tearful, him with probably some bruises. 2 years anniversary. How would you like to spend it, sweetie. I say tearfully, at Southbank, it’s so nice and Christmasy.. He says he will take me, I apologies for over reacting last night, we make love, though at that point it felt like him trying to dominate my emotions, prove I am always , always to succumb. I did, gracefully. We meet up with a couple of his friends, we fidget around because of various things and we never make it to Southbank, instead we have a lovely indian dinner which I paid for. Upon our return Veronica emails EWR to inform him of her love for traveling, sending him a long email and a link to a facebook page evidencing her love for Patagonia.
I went over the roof, I told him that this woman is in love with him and he needs to let her know he is in a relationship. Stop breaking more hearts!. He seemed incapable to understand the necessity of disclosing one’s relationship status, so I started breaking all the things I knew I bought for the house, hurting myself in the process. If felt good, but not good enough for me to want to stay , so I informed him I was going to live the country. The New Zealand passport allows me to work in Australia, so I was going to do that. My need for his proximity would never be cured. He crushed my spirit, spat on my dreams, used me to get our of depression so he can tell me I can’t move in with him because his ex girl friend was still living in the same bed and i still felt a strong need for proximity. My need for proximity was kicked hard in the head with a one way ticket to Australia. Before leaving EWR would not help himself but plan his Christmas with Veronica who, unaware of the war she has caused,walked into the same trap I did, same MUN did. Two weeks later she was found unsuitable, awkward and sexually un arousing. Dumped.
Things I have heard at the time :
I am sorry we didn’t find a way to be together. I knew I withdrew from you.
Veronica is a doctor and I need to communicate with her because I am sick.
Veronica and I will never be together. Veronica never sent me any presents but even if she did I wouldn’t have found it necessary to disclose them to you.
EWR took me out for drinks, payed expensive bills, made an amazing pot of food which we took to my cousin to celebrate a pre Christmas event. All night long he kissed me on the forehead, hold my hand, took photos of me, with me. I started bleeding. It seemed like a period but it was not, I was literally bleeding, knowing he had so little regret, knowing he never even waited for me to move out till he started another fling. (because he is clearly not capable of more). His answer. It was your fault, you have alienated me and by the time I was making plans with Veronica I already knew I didn’t want to be with you anymore, despite the fact a month before he organised me a sweet birthday party, bought me my favorite cake, designed with my name on it, bought me expensive presents I regretfully could not enjoy and he blamed me for being ungrateful.
The night I left my agony and fury took over my rationality. Why kiss me on the forehead and whisper sweet words when you know I have a one way ticket to the other world. (literally Australia is dead boring). Why tell me you are in contact with her only because she is a doctor. Why deny she have extended an invitation to her apartment when I read your email. Why did I accept so much manipulation. What is wrong with this person? What is wrong with me for ending up in this situation. Having to leave a place I loved so the man I love could sleep with someone else, almost under my eyes.
One way ticket to Australia proved to be a bad idea. My friend told me she had enough of me and my emotional problems. She said it was my decision to stay with this man, now I

need to suffer the consequences. I hated the Au accent, their perfect world and bodies. I wanted back to my beloved London, to its dark corners that hosts my love and dreams.
So what. I wasted two years. I am old, broke, unemployed. I am going to go back and show them all what I am made of. Just like my mum did, we don’t give up on life’s whims so easily. Disregard shame, friends laughing at me and encouraging me to take up therapy, disregard the period that wasn’t period and took ages to stop, disregard I was living on my credit card, disregard the fact I had no place to live, no clear plan. I had a few interviews set up and I came back. All tanned, relaxed and ready for action. My cousin said I am too emotionally unstable and I can’t stay with her so I have resorted to a dear friend of mine, emotionally unstable herself didn’t see a problem with me chocking in my own inabilities while we share the same bed. Dear friend, if you read this, you know who you are and you know I love you, we make fun of this. Who the hell is emotionally stable anyway.
I have contacted EWR to pick up the rest of my stuff and he said he threw it away, two weeks later, probably when his new lover left the town, he contacted me to give me my bike and to announce me I owed him money, which of course I didn’t but I paid anyway. I had some help on the way, so all I wanted was to get this person out of my sight. The transaction didn’t go un noticed on Karma’s radars because a day later his bike’s tires were stolen. Guess what. He had to pay the exact same amount he took from me on his new tires.
We met and he insisted we go for a coffee. Did I say I beat him up before I left to Au. I am sorry, I forgot to mention. I did and I carried that guilt till the moment I realised comparing to the hurt he has done to me.. that is just, simply, nothing.
He looked good, intact, full of stories and joy, took me out for drinks, hugged me and turned upside down my entire peace of mind, so dearly paid both in hard and soul currency.
He later on insisted we go for a movie together. I said I could not see him anymore. I said the pain, the blood, is all too fresh. I felt vulnerable, my chest still open, widely exposed, wildly in love. He ignored me and we ended up all hurt again. He not so much, because the Italian woman came to finish her Phd and settled herself on what used to be my side of the bed, of ISA’s if you are still counting her, all happily crammed in the same year, the same life, the same house, the same bed. At the end of the day, nothing wrong with that. People move on, they make fearful little steps toward what they think suits them best. I did the same with my ex, I left EWR because I knew my growth can’t be rooted in my fear. Pema(a venerable buddhist nun) says growth is rooted in any human emotion, that that energy, the feeling, its vibration clicks to the river of our understanding, that is only a mere part of it. In other words, any feeling is good as long as you are not stuck in it mentally. It took me a while to understand that but I knew fear is not an emotion I could feel. I didn’t think I was ready to face it, the extent to which moulded my soul and my experiences. So I begged him to leave me alone. I said i took his criticism, I understood his desire to be with someone sweet and kind who will not remind him of his mistakes, I said I would give him the money, I said I would not bother, stalk, as he accused me, I said I would be the best girl he never had, with one condition. I am to be left alone to build a new life. He didn’t do that and my fears and anger resurfaced. I brought them in conversation, in my heart, in the evening before falling asleep. I could not forgive, I didn’t have the energy. I wanted to rebuild my life. At that point I moved into a shared house. I felt like such a loser, I had nothing, no career, no house, no love, no friends, just a strong determination to succeed, to be happy, not because life spoiled me with hidden treasured but because I am. I am and that should be enough for me to enjoy all there is. Air, fire, sunset, yoga, reiki, friendships, books, movies, music, ideas, feelings.. All there was waited for me to be discovered in a new light. But I needed him to understand that, yet he didn’t. He stayed in my life while this

woman was sleeping peacefully, unaware she was going to be thrown away just like ISA, Veronica and I were.
We spent limited time together but I was troubled. I sensed something was not right. He always came up with lousy excuses why he didn’t pick up the phone at certain hours, he would ride with me home on new routs that would avoid passing his house ( we lived close). He would invite me to events but then he would be gone for days in a row, telling me he was busy.
You get the point. He was living with someone else while he was still courting me to be in his life. I was shattered into pieces. I hated the house I lived, the business growth was slow, I had little, very little money. I begun to question my strength and I looked for his but he came up with more excuses why he limits our interactions. Easter came and he asked me to join him on a bike trip to France. There would have been nothing more glorious than the two of us freezing our asses on the bikes together,him getting frustrated with me because I am not fast enough, me getting frustrated with his lack of understanding for I would have done my best to keep up. As oniric as this sounds, I could not do it because I felt something is wrong so I set my self to find out what. I passed his place a couple of days in the row and I realised someone was living there. I gave him the opportunity to revel the identity of his new lover and he said it’s a friend, Ellie, and the reason why he didn’t tell me is because he is sick of me being jealous. I didn’t believe it but I let it go. I did my crazy number about him lying again, I sent injurious messages, called in France, wasting his time and money. He apologies I had to find out this way and told me he will come bring me the rest of my stuff once he is back. He hired a car and he came by.
Have you noticed that manipulators know very well how to sharpen their tools, they are perfect masters in their craft, just like a musician listen to a tone to set the note for the rest of the concert, EWR knew very well he needed to through a BIG one in the puzzle to have me come back on my decision. Never to see YOU again! Which he did. He said he wanted to have children with me.
WOW and poring, flashing exclamation marks aren’t enough to flag the severity of what he said. EWR hates kids like the plague. He finds then loud, perverse, cruel and annoying. When kids sit next to him in restaurants or cafes he moves away or he penetrates them with evil looks. I am not kidding, the man has no inclination to be anywhere near kids, so for him to say that meant I am the only woman who ever made him feel this. I am special. We made love and he returned to his Italian girlfriend while promising our relationship will change and it did. We made love regularly, we went out a lot, we starting talking about holiday plans, while he would at time disappear to talk on skype with his Italian soulmate and that only when he was angry with me, otherwise, he was sweet and started paying for some of my coffees again.
On his birthday I asked him if I could come back home, he said NO so I left again. For a while I wanted to die, but guess what, I have survived. Business was doing well, people kept poring love and compliments into my life. Summer was long and un naturally hot. I was confident, fun, fit and finally happy. Truly, deeply happy.
Fast forward, fast forward. We met in a coffee place and he we ended up at my place, entangled in warm embraces and sweet talk. I was his favourite again, it was me who brought light into the day, happy days into his life. We spend some time talking about his experiences and he decided to ditch his current girlfriend (who he called his emotional project, one he only took on so he could get over calumnious me). He talked to her (two weeks after he slept with me and that was because she was at a conference and attending to a dying friend - not sure if any of this is true) and told her she needed not to come back to his place when she came to town to attend her Viva.
Apparently he did all the right things and he started being open and communicative. We have decided to move in together and that is when I started chocking on haunting images. Woman after woman came parading, each was described as unfit to be with him. By that

time I had regained my spirit and health. As I said, my business is slowly taking off, I love where I live and most importantly I am surrounded by a lot of love. My family and my friends are more than willing to remind me I am a warm human being.
I want to end my story today, 16 th of December, exactly 3 years after it started.
Today I look in the mirror and I see a little scare I have produced to myself last week. It is healing but its story remains. The story goes like this : I have accused EWR of cheating on my last year and he pointed out we were already apart when he was texting the Spanish doctor and it was all my fault he flew into her arms for Christmas. He yelled at me for about 10 minutes that it was all my fault. Though I didn’t have the energy to yell back (which I usually do) the unfairness of the situation drove me to hit myself so hard that he would stop shouting.
Last year on the 15th of Dec EWR took Veronica out, claiming he was seeing Ellie. He came home and I discovered the txt conversation. He claimed he loved me and took me out for the indian dinner I paid for and when we came back home she wrote another email that he refused to reply by doing something decent and protect my feelings. So, on the 16th of Dec I decided to leave to Australia which I did on the 24th. It was because he flirted and was cooking another adventure that I did it. It was because he blamed me for it that I hit my forehead, bleeding my dreams away.