Bleh. I’ve been trying to sit here and write the story I’ve been working on but am being haunted by the ghost of a past boyfriend. I must write about what is going on in hopes I can finally put this shade to rest and continue the writing I actually enjoy.
I just don’t get it. It’s been twenty years. How on earth can someone rationalize seeing my Facebook page, congratulating me on my great marriage and family and then asking me for another chance?
Seriously. My mind cannot wrap around this one. “Hey. I see you got a great family and a happy marriage. I am still in love with you and would like you to give us another chance.” (I'm paraphrasing of course)
What? WHAT?!
What part of happily married did he not get? What a set of entitlements he has!
Am I doomed to have these odd experiences with even odder people over and over again? Do these things keep happening to me so I have things to write about? Or am I supposed to realize that life is just a joke and learn to roll with it?
I think I am supposed to roll with it. That or write one heck of an unbelievable story about my life and encounters.
When he first contacted me I was slightly upset but managed through it. I do not miss him; hadn’t thought of him. It was a bad relationship. I’m not just saying that because I’m suppose to. Bo was my first boyfriend after leaving home and all I did was move from one abusive relationship to another; from the frying pan into the fire so to speak.
It wasn’t until he made his recent claim on me that I lost it. I was so angry I could barely function. Colin and I argued. Actually, I argued. There was nothing for me to be angry with Colin about but I suddenly felt like he was treating me badly. I felt insecure and used. It took a while for me to realize that I was actually having a flashback of my relationship with Bo.
I cannot even write here what all went on between the two of us because it was just that violent and abusive. I wrote it out and read it to hubby who actually said he felt sick. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I wanted some sort of revenge against him at some point but isn’t living a good life the best revenge?
I thought so. I really did. I thought after him seeing my page he’d go crawl back under the rock he came from but he didn’t. He said he wanted me back which pissed me off more than I thought was possible.
Why?
Because he made me feel like that 18 year old girl again who fell for all his stupid pick up lines and lies. Because I was transformed back there to a time I had never allowed myself to think about. I had to relive all of the crap I endured. He cheated, he lied, he beat me…he did worse.
And…I let him. I kept going back. I believe him when he said it was my fault. I believed him when he said I wasn’t good enough but maybe…someday.
I didn’t want to be reminded that I was once that girl.
But now I sit here with a different perspective. Writing IS my therapy.
I wrote about the abuse until most of the anger and sadness melted away. It wasn’t my fault that I chose to be in an abusive relationship. It was all I knew at that time. I am not the same person now. I have grown. He has no power over me anymore. I don’t need to feel ashamed. I need to feel proud that I did finally recognize the abuse and the fact that I deserved better. I need to feel proud that I moved on and grew into a better person.
So, what brought this topic up tonight? He sent out a video to me of a country song called, The Man I Want to Be. I have blocked him on Facebook and the two emails he’s written me to. I have also had to delete a mutual friend who, for some reason, believes I should give him a second chance regardless of the fact that I am happily married with kids. Our friends were the same way back then. Every time I tried to find refuge when Bo hit me, they would send me back or tell him where I was. It was like I was his property.
Then I realized that I haven’t listened to country music SINCE him. I had avoided the whole genre because it reminded me of that horrible time in my life. I stopped being that country girl to distance myself from the girl who allowed herself to be treated like that…no more horse rides, no more 4x4’s, no more guns, no more fishing, no more CB radios. It’s hard to believe I use to do all of that stuff. And all the people who knew me from then think that I am still that little girl lost…
I am not the same person.
I seem to learn the hard way. I seem to learn how to do something by learning what NOT to do. I thank Bo for teaching me everything a boyfriend shouldn’t be. I don’t personally think Bo ever loved me but my husband says he believes he did. All I know is that if I loved someone who was obviously happy with someone else I would not tell them I loved them and wanted another chance. That is a selfish act and proves to me that Bo is still the same old Bo.
And now…I want to share the last encounter I had with Bo because, to me, it was poetic.
Bo was always able to just call me and I’d come running even if I had work or a date or whatever. These encounters became less and less frequent as I realized what kind of person he was. When he called in 94 I had not seen him in since 89 when we officially broke up.
He invited me for drinks. That was his subtle way of getting me there for sex. I entered the bar fully intending on having sex with him. We were, for lack of a better phrase, f**k buddies. They call it hooking up now. I prefer “hooking up” to the other because there was nothing buddy, buddy about it.
I walked in the bar and sat down beside him. I ordered my Jack Daniels and we talked. He used all the same old tired lines he had used on me from the very beginning. Nothing had changed. There was a voice inside my head screaming for me to leave. I decided to try something. “Bo if you can answer one question I’ll leave this bar with you, go anywhere you like and do whatever it is you want. What is my middle name?” He had to know it. We dated on and off for years. I lived with him twice.
“What?”
“What is my middle name?”
He starts laughing and stalling. “I bet you don’t know my mi…”
“Wayne.” I knew a lot about him.
He obviously didn’t know my middle name. I gave him another chance. I couldn't believe I had been involved with a man for all those years when he couldn’t even tell me my middle name.
“What’s my birth date?
There was more laughter as he started naming off zodiac signs and dates. “How ‘bout a month? Can you give me a month?” At this point I was becoming very angry with myself.
No. He couldn’t.
“What’s my birthdate?”
“July 13” I answered him again but I didn't feel smug. I finally felt the full of force of being an idiot sleeping with a guy who would never, ever love me.
He looked like he didn’t know what to say. I placed a five dollar bill on the bar for my drink and hopped off the bar stool. He grabbed my arm. “Where ya going?” He said this laughingly but there was that old, stern warning promising bad things if I didn’t do as he said. I had already decided I would never see him again after this night.
No more hook ups.
“I’m leaving. Until just now I actually thought you gave a shit about me.”
“Sit back down.” He was using his ‘angry eyes’. This form of intimidation use to work on me.
“Good bye Williams.” I yanked my arm from him. There was no way he'd make a scene in the bar. I think he was also jolted because I stood up to him and turned him down for sex.
With that I made my movie exit. I never looked back. I weaved through the tables until I got to the door. I gave it a huge push and felt like I was reborn when the fresh air from the parking lot hit me. It was the goodbye I had always wanted with him and it is the moment I will hang on to because it’s the most clear picture of our relationship.
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