Dorothy1's Story

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#1 Mar 5 - 5AM
Dorothy1
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Dorothy1's Story

Song Of A Woman's Story

I just posted part of my story in the It’s All About Him Forum”. It isn’t most, or even the biggest part of my story, but was in instant aha moment, it has been a week. And reading this forum and understanding the full extent of what he did to me has awakened emotions I’d rather I didn’t know I had. I don’t know how make it shorter. I feel like I must purge everything he left in me, purge the illogical love I still have, the doubts, the guilt, everything. So I’m repeating that part of it, because it IS important.

I had always loved sex. I could lose myself in a man for days. I married a man who was decent and hardworking and loved me. He loved sex, he loved caressing me. But due to an incident at birth his penis was less than two inches. I told myself I was not that shallow, this man was perfect and it wouldn’t matter.

But it did. It changed everything. And with above normal problems of a merged family, money problems and everything under the sun, I gradually realized I didn’t want sex anymore. Maybe that was over for me. Then, he moved to another state to work, and developed a bad gambling problem. Six months stretched into a year, then 2, then 3, then 4. I have lived alone for four years, night after night after night. I didn’t date. I never once looked at a man and found him remotely attractive. We knew we were divorcing, but weren’t in a rush to get it done.

Then I met him.

Powerful, instant, physical attraction without saying a word. Then when we spoke, that was it for me. Just like that. First date, he was on the extreme side of shy. Old school gentlemanly polite, did not take a single hint about so much as brushing against me, much less kissing. But I couldn’t help myself, and knew I couldn’t wait. It was late and we had had wine, so I asked if I could lie in his bed. He was so accommodating. Then I heard him arranging blankets on the floor of the living room for himself.

I called him in there and said “so, do you just want to be buddies?” He was hesitant, said he hadn’t had sex in eight years, bad breakup, etc. I kissed him, and the world went away. I can’t even think about it anymore right now, but it woke my body up from a long sleep. I felt emotions that had been bottled up for decades. He kept running his fingers over and over my body, saying wonderful things about my body in a deep, calming voice.

He told me he would never be with another woman, he could never do that, and he would do anything for me, anytime I asked. Even now I’ve begun crying again.
Nothing equaled that first night, but in other ways it just got better. He would talk about my body and how sexy I was, and want me three or four times, sometimes more, a day. At the two week point, we hit that first night without sex. Nothing was mentioned, he just rolled over. I knew that was normal.

Then when I assumed the next night we would make love, not only did he rebuff me when I touched him, he pushed me away. And for the next eight nights. I tried to make him talk about it, and it angered him. The only explanation I ever got was that he had always been this way. Of course there were one or two times where suddenly he wanted me again and it lasted a few days, and I thought finally, he figured it out. He told me now when I tried to talk about it that I should TRUST him, and that he was working it out.

The very last time we made love was the most intense experience of my life. Won’t even go into it. And even then, he could not ejaculate. And I believe he almost never did. And I insisted he tell me what he would like, and he just got angry and said life isn’t a fairy tale. It was time to grow up. The honeymoon period was over.

But the thing that took my breath away is that, even with all that I have been through this week, all the betrayal, grief, and utter despair, I believed he hadn’t and would not sleep with anyone else. I was absolutely, positively convinced of it. But there I am, reading the story of a strong, giving happy woman being systematically beaten down, and there it is. The GIRLS WHO ARE JUST FRIENDS story. The girls I hadn’t been allowed to meet. The girls I should know better about because I should TRUST him. The ex-girlfriend who was psycho. The bitter hag who took his children in the middle of the night.

And I knew. All that time he wouldn’t even touch me or speak to me. All that time he wouldn’t explain the lack of a sex drive to me. All that time he couldn’t even look at me, never told me I was beautiful, all those nights I was invisible, sleeping on the far side of a bed not allowed to touch the man I loved. All those Nights, and days I was lied to. Every single disappearing act, telling me he was going to one of their places to hang out (and deliver some less than legal products) and me proving I TRUSTED him and was not jealous.

The times in the last weeks when he left me sitting in his apartment suddenly at night not even bother not saying it was because he was bored.
They were never just friends. He was making love to them, and stringing them along. Just like he had been me. It was the final blow that feels like my heart has been ripped from me.

Maybe that was the hardest part of the story, because it still hurts so much.
The beginning happened because of lot of random things, mostly bad things. My husband had been living away from me for four years, even though it was supposed to be for six months. I had lived alone all but eight weekends of that four years. I finally told him this wasn’t working and we had to divorce, although he didn’t believe me and wouldn’t address it. But he cut off all the money paying for his house. Then in June I was pulled into office and told “someone else will be sitting in your chair tomorrow”. I had made work my life, because I was lonely. I worked 80 hours a week, with 40 of them free. I was great at what I did. And I wasn’t even given a reason they were letting me go.

I figured I’d get a job in a couple weeks. It would be tight, but it should be no problem. That had stretched into 4 months when I met him. I was living on peanut butter and crackers. I was behind on car payments. I was behind on medical bills. And my husband could not help, because he gambled thousands of dollars away every week. My father had just died, and we were fighting his girlfriend for our inheritance.

My girlfriend knew I was never leaving my house and grabbed me up one day, put me in her convertible, and told me I was getting out. She had to meet a friend up the road first, but then we go eat. The meeting with that friend is the one that changed my life.

We had the time of absolute bliss. Then the cracks started to appear. It seemed like the progression was slow, but now in looking back I see how fast it really was. Suddenly he wasn’t getting quiet, he was getting moody, and mean. I still remember the feeling the first time I said something innocent and he responded as harshly as possible. Nothing I did was right in the apartment. He had hundreds of rules, every day. About a month into that part of this lovely courtship, that same girlfriend took me to lunch. We were having a good conversation and it hit me, I had actually flinched a few times expecting her to say that was a stupid comment, or put me down in some way. He was changing me.

We went to a grocery in the middle of the night (he worked 2nd shift). He constantly made me repeat everything I said, multiple times, and told me I didn’t talk right. He said something I could not hear at the grocery and I made an irrelevant comment. He flew off the handle and stalked away, saying things about my stupidity just low enough to make it seem he was talking to himself, but loud enough for everyone to hear. At that point I wasn’t totally intimidated yet, and I just walked myself away, and since I had driven, told him I would be leaving. He immediately ran up to me, and looked devastated, saying “I’ve messed this up haven’t I?” So I forgave him, and thought it was a fluke.

Things went on like that for a while. Some days were good, some days were very bad. He hadn’t started the severe ST yet, but it was emerging.

Then I touched his motorcycle. He actually gave me his covered parking spot, but I had to pull up and get about an inch away from the Harley. Well, one night I lurched, and it tipped it so it was leaning on the wall. I tried to straighten it up, but it was too heavy. I knew he would be off work in 3 hours, so I would tell him then. I had no idea.

I was sleeping. He came in and had a scary look on his face. But he was obviously, a little too obviously, trying to remain calm. He said I should have called him immediately so he could come home from work. It was scratched and the only reason I wasn’t paying for it to be repainted was that I was unemployed. But that he knew it was an accident and he was going to stay calm. He slept in the living room.

In the morning I woke up to him hitting the bed, and yelling at me to GET OUT. I was actually confused. I’d never seen this level of anger in him before. And he had been loving to me the day before. I didn’t take him seriously at first and he pulled the covers off me, yanked me out of the bed, and started piling up my things. (I was living there full-time). And stood over my ear yelling hysterically the entire time, telling me if I wasn’t done he was calling the police to get me out. I had my name on nothing. I was in full-on hysterics, and actually hurrying because he said so. As we are doing this he is raging. He now cannot buy Christmas presents. I have cost him so much money he can’t afford to do anything (I hadn’t). On and on and on.

I stumbled out and got my stuff in the car, and headed to the empty home I had been in before. I was so shocked I cried harder than I ever have in my life, until this week. And was the first of them. The thing he knew would drive me crazy. Maybe actually make me crazy. He hung up on my calls, and he would not answer my texts. Not one single plea. Not one yes or no. Nothing for two days. Until the late-night text saying “I know you don’t care right now, but I’m so hurting and confused” And I felt like the world was right again.

A week later he gave me back my key and I gradually moved back in. There are lot of events in –between that I can barely remember now. I don’t even seem to have been there. But the periods with no sex began to stretch into weeks, and then we hit five weeks, and I tried to talk about it.

He told me he had been working and he was tired, and would not discuss this with me that night. I was getting upset and crying (something he hated) and begging him to tell me why he didn’t want me anymore. And he got madder, and then he said if I didn’t shut up he would throw my ass out. Then he jumped up and it was a repeat of the last time, only worse. He told me I had five minutes or he would call the cops. And, because I had believed him when he promised he would never do that again, I because utterly hysterical. And he sat there and said the most horrible, vile things he could conjur. And I dragged my stuff down to the car.

A few days later I texted him. Well, of course, I had been texting him the entire time with no response, ever. Then out of the blue he texted me with something simple like I’m confused but I miss you. And I was helpless. It was two days before Christmas. And he told me we were going to his Mother’s for Christmas. The mother I had never been allowed to meet.

He looked so lonely and miserable that I resolved to stay there with him. And Christmas Day was wonderful. It was him again, the man I met. And I was hooked forever, because now I had hope.

The next week I knew there was a party with all the friends I had never met. I knew because someone else was going. On Friday night I text him about what we would be doing Saturday (party night). He responded that he had other plans. Then he refused to answer any of my texts all night, and I bombarded him with them. Later he told me he had just gotten all those texts, and that I was crazy, and that he had been planning to surprise me by taking me to the party and not telling me where we were going. Now his plans were ruined, and he had to think if he could even be with me because that could never happen again.

He spoke to some mutual friends about it, and if I was crazy.His friend made him take me to the party. I had a lovely time. His friends were fun and nice and I had FUN. Sometime much later on he said to someone that he had been afraid to take me because I might go off. Later he told me that I interrupted him at the party and everyone thought it looked bad, but couldn’t tell me any specifics. After the party he made it very apparent that me staying with him was at his discretion, and we would not be living together anymore.

We mostly stopped going out, and he didn’t talk to me much. The disappearing began. Every time I objected to anything he said “Oh, you’re going off again.” Periodically he would send a cryptic text, and then refuse to respond to me for hours, or days, then rant at me because of the texts.

The two weeks before the breakup he was mostly ignoring me, but he wanted me to come stay every night. No sex, no affection, just me staying. But he suddenly stopped speaking harshly to me. For two entire weeks he didn’t raise his voice or criticize me. I helped him apply for a good job in another town, and he assure me I would be going with him. One night I thanked him for making the effort and being so nice to me. He looked confused, said he hadn’t been doing anything and he was always nice to me. He wasn’t being nice to me. I had just ceased to matter or exist for him.

Then one morning, after yet another night of no sex, and no talking about it, I woke up and there he was on the living room floor again, because my snoring was more horrible than any other human being on the planet. I had a hazy memory of me struggling to hug him, and him pushing me away, repeatedly. And I lost it. I left and said “F” you, which I never say.

Well, that began the series of texts that was the end. I found out he left for the entire weekend with someone, and not only didn’t tell me, but wouldn’t answer a text or call. Finally on Sunday night I got one text. “Leave me alone. We are no good for each other.” I then began frantically texting him, begging him over and over again, to just talk to me. Nothing.

The breakup was so painful I can’t even remember it. I’m not sure he did actually break up. About 4 days after he came back he brought something to me I had left at his place. He said he would not come inside, and he would not talk to me, because he was afraid of what I might do. When he came I asked him for one hug, and he said “what’s the point”. Yelled at me that if I got a job, moved out of the house..etc. then , well that’s just it. I said does that mean we have a chance? He said chance? How does anybody know that. And I lost it. I went on the barrage of texts to beat all. For days and days. I could not stop myself. I could NOT make myself leave the house. Nobody called me, nobody had time to hear it. I was alone, totally alone, and I just could not stop. And I knew he was setting me up to look crazy. I knew it, and still I didn’t stop. He was telling people he was afraid to be at his apartment.

And one of the reasons I am the most angry with myself is, because I did that, and I didn’t stop until tonight, tomorrow he will change his phone number and he will have won. Because I didn’t stop myself sooner. I played right into it, and now a large number of people think I am dangerous and psychotic. He’s been setting it up for weeks.

I texted and said I was coming to his apartment to get my things, and he could just hand them to me and talk to me for a minute. He never answered. So I went to the door, and texted him that it was me. He would not answer the door. He would not answer me verbally. He sent one text, saying he would “take legal action”. And I begged, and I cried, and I sat on the stairs and cried harder than I thought it physically possible to do. And still, he would not acknowledge I was there.

And then one text after all these days. One. Basically very formal saying “I don’t feel even slightly safe or comfortable around you. Your things will be boxed and sent immediately.”

So in the end, I let him manipulate me. I let him make me crazed, and I let him win. And if he came to the door tonight I’d let him in. I don’t KNOW how you recreate self-esteem and self-worth.

Apr 7 - 7PM
bgirl
bgirl's picture

This is very very sad... You

Apr 7 - 7PM
Dorothy1
Dorothy1's picture

My Heart is Broken

Mar 6 - 2AM
surrygrl36
surrygrl36's picture

Thanks for sharing your

Mar 10 - 2AM (Reply to #2)
Dorothy1
Dorothy1's picture

You ever wonder why no one

Apr 4 - 11PM (Reply to #5)
rosedewittbukater
rosedewittbukater's picture

You are not boring

Mar 17 - 1PM (Reply to #4)
LND
LND's picture

On the contrary, you are by

Mar 17 - 6AM (Reply to #3)
Brit
Brit's picture

your story