Beyond Lady Pandora – Episode12a – The Men In My Life – Beyond Lady Pandora
This podcast/blog is on a website about digital cats in second life. Fascinating. You might wonder why. Well, in truth, each of us is multifaceted and holds multiple interests. No? So, what did you expect? I do not follow lines, I do not fit in boxes. Why should I limit the interests I show or separate them out. Humans are not made like that. Life is not like that. I am many things, all things in one.
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As a teenager, maybe all of 13, I was riding on the back of a bike once.. a Harley of course. I was drunk out of my mind, numbing the demons inside. My right calf pressed into the exposed tail pipes as I got off. I heard a sizzle but felt nothing at all at first. I stepped off. Everyone around me was horrified. I had a huge burn up my calf, pretty bad. I never sought medical help or attention for it. I continued partying. I was numb to everything, to the world. It hurt the next day but it did not stop me from living my life, I was unstoppable as most teens think they are. The only difference was, I actually was. Short of death, I had suffered so much pain already that it seemed to have less of an affect upon me. It had lost it’s shock or scare value, I guess, at least for me. People never could figure that out about me. One minute, I’m tough as nails and the next, I’m a sensitive little flower. It was my normal. When I finally figured out that it wasn’t the norm for everyone else, I spent a great amount of time in figuring out ways to hide it. Learning to sound the same, learning to make the voices sound just like me or at least close. Hide your differences, that was my idea. Stay safe by hiding right in front of them. Stay safe by all sounding alike, then the differences in action and such seemed less strange.
Unfortunately, that is very difficult emotionally and intellectually, isn’t it? Having to pretend to be someone else, to emulate her, trying to act like her. It’s very much a cage of your own working. Always wearing a mask, always attempting to be normal, to be accepted… to mold yourself into something you are not just to have the smallest chance of being accepted by people who may not even be worth the effort. It’s like performing on stage 24-7, everything you do and say under constant scrutiny. Don’t mess up. It’s terrifying because different is feared, hated, and makes for such a scary life. It took me over 40 years just to realize that I could not live like that, that it was killing me. I had to be me, all of me. That is when I finally sought help for therapy and medication.
Well, as I was saying on the last episode, the exes just could not stay away and leave me alone. This is just a constant occurrence in my life. My first husband kept trying to force himself on me, trying to weasel his way back in. At the same time, the boyfriend I’d left just refused to stay gone. He was stalking me. He began stalking my kids but that stopped fast when I found out. I warned him I’d have the police right up his ass and he’d best hope they get to him first if he did not stay the fuck away from my kids. He decided it was best to keep his stalking to me, which was disturbing enough all on it’s own. He’d actually watch through my windows without me seeing somehow. He’d call, he’d just show up. Throughout all of this my priority was to protect my sons from both physical harm and any fear. So, when he showed up, I’d pretend that I expected him and I’d call the babysitter so I could lead him away from my children, just in case. Of course, I’d then tell him not to come over, not to call, to leave me alone. He once informed me that I owed him sex, I owed him my body, because although we were not together, I slept with someone else. He disgusted me, like actually nauseated me.
The funny thing is, he just couldn’t see what a creep he was, what a complete and total scary asshole he really was. He was a terrible person, period. A big dick does not make up for that, it just can’t. He lacked the ability to clearly see what he was. He thought he was great. He even broke into my new boyfriend’s car and threw dog shit in it. He was just a menace and he was very large, that made it scarier. What would he do next? He was completely unpredictable.
The new boyfriend? Well, he was a client at first. He had a fantasy that I, as a licensed escort, could fulfill. He was short, his nose was quite large as was his belly. He was a short, stout, Scottish man. He was intelligent but he was not that hot guy who got the pretty girl. He had never been picked up in a bar. So, our date was a special request. I arrived dressed in the outfit of his choice at a small Irish pub where he and his friends sat talking. It was a night like any other. Rather than us merely meeting there, I had a couple of drinks alone first. I made eyes at him, flirted with him from across the bar with body language. He approached me and introduced himself. It looked in every way completely natural. He joined me for a drink and throughout the night, we chatted and held hands eventually as one might. The thing is, the conversation was not forced at all, it really was totally natural. We enjoyed and shared many hobbies and interests and what was meant to be merely a fantasy of getting the girl and showing off to his friends grew naturally after that night into a real friendship. Then, a bond and then romance. He lived in another province entirely, so much of this continued talking occurred online or over the phone, video chats. I had no intention at all in becoming interested in this man, but I did. He seemed a very good man to me.
Now, physically, he was a complete departure from my type of guy to be entirely honest. He was in no way a handsome man, at all. His eyes were stunning though, two different colors like a husky. It was his personality, his mind, that really got me. I thought to myself, sex is not that important. Physical attraction is not as important as personality. I mean, hell, look at my first husband. Maybe it was time to put less emphasis on physical attraction and besides, over time, I began to think he was cute in his own way. He was a lonely guy. We shared common interests. He was intelligent, we could talk. He was kind and adorable. I thought myself lucky to find such a man honestly. He held a great job, he was in computers and working for an internet company. On top of all this, he liked my kids and my kids liked him. They played games online with him, always monitored of course. My son needed medical help, a proper diagnosis, but to do that I would need time to put into research, appointments, etc. When I told him this and we both watched my exes losing their minds, we came to an agreement. We would move to him, secretly, in the dead of night. We would marry if all went well. He would be the provider, I would be the at home mom. Everything would work out.
Opposite doesn’t always mean good or that it will be the right fit. I was still naïve in this sense. I was trying to find the right match, the right recipe for a relationship, like trying to reach the perfect ph. level. Looking back, it’s a bit funny that I thought of it in these terms. A recipe…laughs. People are so incredibly complicated.
So, I did not start packing to leave until 24 hours before the move itself. I covered all my windows with very heavy coverings so that no one could see in and I packed fast and hard. I was afraid of both my stalker and my ex. I wanted to give my sons a better life. It was an absolute need and obsession. So, in 24 hours, I was completely packed and ready and the knock at the door came. My anxiety was in overload, I was barely breathing. I expected to see my new boyfriend at the door. I could handle that, I could handle this. No surprises. I opened the door and there he was on one knee with something in his hand and a man I did not know beside him. I could not think, I could not handle it, I went into an absolute panic. I slammed the door and ran. I tried to gather myself. I knew he’d be pissed, anyone would. I tried to just breathe, I forced myself back to the door. I let them in. Bad first impression with his friend for sure and he was pissed, rightfully so. I could not explain it, I was terrified. Still, we moved my stuff into the waiting truck in the dark of evening and we snuck our asses off to another province. No one knew but my landlord.
We had two vehicles. The kids and I were in my boyfriends car and everything else including our cat was in the rented U-Haul truck with his friend. It was a long drive and was made longer by the fact that the damn U-Haul truck kept breaking down. It was the stuff of nightmares. We’d just get it back on the road and a little ways later, bam. We were all aggravated. Suddenly on one stop his friend came out of the truck and was wet. The top of his shirt was wet and smelled. He then told us he had let the cat out of it’s cage because it was crying. Lord help. Of course, she was quite scared, Tiger was. She had climbed onto his shoulder and he thought it quite lovely until she peed all over him. This trip was pushing all of us to our limits. My autistic younger son was still quite young, like kindergarten young and undiagnosed and ADHD and he was going nuts locked up in a car this long. I have to tell you, I was shocked they did not just change their minds and put us back. I was glad they stuck to it. When we finally arrived at our new house, it was less than ready. We had no bed, just inflatables but the boys had beds. He and his friends had cleaned it as it was apparently an awful mess. I was exhausted and not happy about things not being ready but I really wanted this to work out so I tried not to complain or to behave ungratefully. My anxiety was still absolutely in overload but at the time, it had no name…it was just me. Much like my son’s issues, they were just parts of us that I knew was off compared to others but that I had no answers for. I was never diagnosed at all until I was in my 40’s.