The Art of “YES!”

I interrupt the “Un-Love Story” to announce that the Real Love Story has taken the next step…

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Five Years

It seems only fitting that I start at the beginning on the Anniversary of the end.

Five years ago, my divorce from Dr. D. was decreed. I’ll embark on this post with a positive.

I knew about him for several months prior as a co-worker/friend had a “relationship” with him. He was the lead singer in a “local” rock band; she was a groupie.

She would ramble on about how talented and handsome he was, bringing in his band’s CD and photos of weekend debauchery. She’d also share her discontentment when he wouldn’t call her for days on end. Then, there was the one time he inadvertently mailed a picture of he and his then girlfriend (yes, he had a GIRLFRIEND – red flag number 1) along with other band pictures she’d requested. Yeah, that didn’t go over so well.

I was 18. He was 21. She was 24.

After months of her tales and endless photos and phone calls, my friend needed to show him off in person. She WAS having me trek the hour and a half north to MEET him. “He will LOVE you!” Now, she was OBSESSED with this guy and what prompted her to think he’d “love me” or why she’d want him to, was beyond me, but, whatever. Sure. Why not? It was October in 1993 that she attempted to have us meet the first time.

The irony of ALL ironies? I caught a ride up with Romeo (yes, MY Romeo) and hung out with him and a mutual friend beforehand. Afterward, she swooped me up, as Dr.D. was to meet us at a club a few hours later. Off we went. Looking back, I should of stayed…

Dr. D. was a no show and I was a drunken mess.

I was returned BACK to Romeo (ha) and friend, where we (along with Romeo’s then “girl”) attended the Blind Melon/Lenny Kravitz concert. I was so hungover, I remember very little. Looking back again, I laugh. If we only knew, we could have saved ourselves considerable time and energy.

A month later: redux. This time, Dr. D. showed. I won’t lie; in my youthful naivety, I fell for the “rock star” and the rebellion within me was screaming to be released.

A week later, Dr. D. was on my doorstep.

Speaking Out

Ya know, it’s difficult to admit weakness.

It’s equally difficult to continue to keep silent.

I know there are a myriad of others like me ~ women* in the same predicament.

Domestic Violence.  A hush-hush, behind closed doors, sweep it under the carpet scenario that we hide to save face. Who wants to admit that they date(d)/are married to a person that abuses them? Who wants to be a… “victim” ? Not me. Until now. And yeah, it sucks; it’s humiliating. It is a fully loaded Whiskey Tango Foxtrot was I thinking?

I know exactly what I was thinking: “I can change him; I can make him a better person.”

I know exactly what YOU are thinking: “You are an idiot!” or… “She’s reading my mind.”

You are right, or… I feel ya.

<sigh>

My next entries are going to be my story with Dr. D. As you’ve already deduced, it’s not a Love Story – far from it. It is not a pity seeker either. It will be the veritable account of a nearly two decade long toxic relationship that left me a shell of my true self. If I am able to help at least one person, even if it’s solely the ability to enable a friend to comfort another in a similar situation, the disclosure will be worth it.

*Gender easily reversed