She Was Always There

During the next month or so, I was in and out of emotional outbreaks and breakdowns. There are so many details to this story, and it's hard to write them all, but I am going to try.

Of course, I was still going to work everyday, and I thought about him all the time. Was he cheating on me? Was he talking to her? What was he doing? Does he still want me?

My friend moved into my little apartment with me. Her boyfriend was abusing her, too. In fact, my sister was with me once at his apartment, before I moved out, and he pushed my friend down a flight of stairs...right in front of my sister. It was devastating for her to see that, and I couldn't believe it either.

Funny thing was...we NEVER discussed it. We never talked about how wrong it was for men to beat women...NEVER. Both of us just lived our lives, did what we had to to survive, and carried on with our lives.

The guy I was engaged to started coming back around me again, too. But only at night, leaving notes on my car, "I still love you." And he showed up at my apartment once and followed me to my boyfriend's, and he was at the game room we used to go to. I made my boyfriend tell him to leave me alone. And he did.

My boyfriend decided it probably wasn't a good idea for me to have a key to his apartment (he was very bright, don't you think?), and I took my key back, too. Then, he started in with all kinds of bad behavior. He was drinking almost all the time, and he was a raging drunk. One night, we were at a bar together, he was messing around with some girls there, wouldn't get into my car, so I drove home and went to bed. I heard him walking up about an hour later, as he had walked home from the bar that night. He had some time to get reallllllly mad at me. He started banging on my door and yelling. He didn't have a key anymore, so he broke my door down instead. I was trying to be quiet because maybe he would think I wasn't there if I didn't answer the door. Not so much.

He came into my bedroom, sat down, slapped me on face really hard and said, "Don't ever do that again!" And then, he left.

There was a party going on across the yard from me, and those guys came and asked if I was okay. They said they would keep an eye on my apartment for me.

I called his friend, the one girl he probably never HAD. She liked me, for some reason, and I went and picked her up, and she spent the night at my apartment with me, watching out for me. Kind of like a bodyguard.

We ended up calling the police on him after he called me and said he was going to kill himself. The police went to his apartment, and he didn't answer, of course. At that point, I was starting to wonder what I had gotten involved with. This was a long way from a girl who dreamed of a white knight to take her away. This had turned into a freakish nightmare from which I was hoping to wake up from.

I called the apartment office the next business day, and they fixed the door...with a cost to me. And he kept on rolling with his stupidity and hormones.

A guy I went to elementary school with and hadn't seen since somehow ended up being friends with my boyfriend's best friend. And we ended up meeting up again in some crazy twist of events. He also became a big ally of mine. He said he was interested in my friend who was living with me, but he was actually interested in me. In fact, he told me he loved me, and it scared me to death. He was such a nice guy, though. I had to end our friendship right there. I thought if my boyfriend found out, he would be very angry.

Because, again, although he didn't want me, he didn't want anyone else to have me, either. He didn't want me to be happy because his life was full of such pain. Pain from his past, from his biological father, pain. That's why he acted the way he did. That's why I felt so sorry for him. That's why I made excuses for his behavior. That's why I stayed with him and tried to give him love he'd not had and felt that he didn't deserve.

I know this much... I wasn't the right one for the job. Only God can do that.

So, he started dating other girls, if that's what you really want to call it. He lost another job, and he was living high. Seriously. He got out of anyone what he could, including me, and kept on going.

I had really had enough by Memorial Day weekend. I was going out of town with some of my old friends from church, and I had told him goodbye. I was getting stronger, little by little, or so I thought.

The Thursday night before I was leaving on Friday, he showed up at my house. He had been at a park, been drinking, normal for him, been asked to leave the park, and wrecked his car into a pole. Busted out the windows in the car with his fists, and showed up at MY apartment, expecting me to do something to help him. I did help get the glass out of his arm, and he passed out there.

I got up in the morning, woke him up and told him he needed to leave. I didn't offer a key, I didn't offer to let him stay, I didn't offer him anything. I just told him to leave. I was really proud of myself.

I had a good time that weekend with my friends, but something started gnawing on my insides about him, and I went back to town early. Guess who he was with? Yep. It was the old girlfriend. And he spent the whole weekend with her.

My question is: Why did I care? I broke up with him, right?

I went crazy all the next day trying to get a hold of him. He finally called me.

And that's how things went for a few weeks. I wanted him... I didn't.... He wanted me... He didn't...

I did break up "completely" with him in June, and I stayed true to myself for a few days. Until he called and asked me to drive him to his court appearance. And I said I would drive him home.

And he told me he knew that he loved me and wanted me to be with him forever. And he was done with all the women. And he wanted me to marry him and live with him. I told him I'd have to think about it.

Next thing I knew, I was moving in with him. I didn't really want to, but I did. There went the independence I was seeking. And I never really had.