A New Relationship Does NOT Fix A Broken Heart

Lately, I haven't written much about Leah.  This makes sense, as Jen has quickly taken a major place in my life.  Leah is "past", Jen is "present".  It is always easier to move on from a broken heart if you have some place to move to.  

But, this doesn't change what Leah did, and it doesn't change the fact that she managed to play me for three years.  This doesn't change the fact that I am fully capable of being hurt.  

Jen doesn't feel ready to meet my kids, and given that all they have had to deal with with women in my life, she is cautious.  Heck, even now she doesn't want us to refer to ourselves as "boyfriend" and "girlfriend".  These are all good things, and make me feel that Jen is a step in the right direction.  But this is Jen, this doesn't correct the fact that people like Leah were able to manipulate me.  

I don't like cooking.  I don't like housekeeping.  There are a million things I would rather do than think of dinner on a given night.  I am behind on my food shopping, by the way: the last food shopping trips worked very well, but we must get back to that. And the living room needs some serious tidying.  

Three times, women convinced me to let them move in with me by promising me cooked meals.  That does sound silly, doesn't it?  Yet, there it is!  Promises of cooked meals, promises of not having to deal with housekeeping.  In one of those cases, at a time when I felt like I was "doing it all", promises of actual help with my kids.  Those promises made me a willing sucker.  The worst part is that my kids are preparing to be victims of this in their future.  Whether Jen was in my life or I was alone, I can't lose track of the fact that I need to close that gap.  We need to prepare our own meals until it becomes a habit, something we "just do" even if we don't like it.  I need to stay on the kids' backs about tidying up after themselves, and I need to make sure I do so too.  

Leah used me and hurt me, but what is the point of all of that if I don't learn something from it?  And learning something is not "find another lover".  

Is this a "Rebound" relationship?

Tonight is my second date with Jen.  Jen will be getting a room and the two of us will be spending the night together.  This will be the third time in as many weeks that we have been able to see each other.  We met at a party on one week, we went out on a date the next week, and now we will be spending the night together.  When we haven’t been physically together, we communicate a lot – e-mails, text messages, IM conversations, and even Facebook and Fetlife postings. 

Let’s not forget that the party where I met her was literally one month after Leah had moved out.  Does that make this a “rebound” relationship?  Of course it is, although I would point out that waiting a whole month before starting a new relationship is actually pretty good for me. 

So what is the problem with “rebound” relationships?  Is it that I’m not “over” the other person?  So, am I “over” Leah?  What exactly does that mean? 

Leah might have an “on/off” switch that shut down her feelings for me.  I don’t actually know.  I know that I don’t have something like that.  At times, I wish I did.  What I do have is a brain that zips back in time and goes through memories in hyper-detail, coming up with tons of connections and patterns.  With Leah’s behavior the last few months together and the last week together, followed by the fact that I realized that I was not feeling a huge gaping emptiness with her departure . . . I took the time to look back at our relationship.  With her not there to manipulate me 24/7, I saw patterns, and I realized things about our relationship.  Things started making sense.  I might not be “over” her, but I most certainly don’t want her back. 

It seems to me, then, that there is more to the danger of “rebound” relationships.  It seems to me that a big danger is defining the person in terms of the “ex”: she has these characteristics that are the same as my ex, but she has these other characteristics that are quite different.  I know I did some of this: Jen is older than Leah; Jen has an established career and lives on her own.  The key, though, is that Jen is her own person.  I believe I appreciate her as herself, and not as “someone that is very different from Leah”.  This is something time will tell, however. 

My last “rebound” relationship was Leah.  Where other women knew to avoid someone that had just come off a nasty breakup, Leah did the exact opposite: she actually pressured me to date her.  Leah defined herself as “not the woman with whom I had broken up”.  The irony, I realize now that we are apart, is that she had a LOT in common with her (for example, both of them were willing to say or do anything in order to convince me to let her move in).  One thing she did not have in common with my previous lover is passion.  I went from a very passionate relationship to one with no passion at all.  And, in true “rebound” fashion, I reasoned that “perhaps the lack of passion is what I needed”. 

Can I say that it’s different with Jen?  Did a whole month apart, realizing what a mess my relationship with Leah had been, “fix” things in my head and my heart?  Is the fact that Jen and I are taking things slowly (we won’t even call each other boyfriend/girlfriend yet) making the difference?  I could answer these questions, but . . . these are things that must be answered later, when looking back at this time.  And, hopefully, she and I will be looking back at this time together.

An emotional reaction

Going to see Black Swan last night brought out an emotional reaction.  At the end of the movie, I found myself crying.  It wasn’t the movie.  It was watching the ballet dancers, and it hit me that I will never be able to do that.  Sure, maybe Viviana will have ballet lessons and maybe I will take them, but I’m almost 43 years old . . . let’s be realistic about what I can accomplish!  The dance numbers in “Godspell” almost killed me (I was in pain through many of them) . . . I will never be able to credibly dance something like “Swan Lake”. 

Rumor has it that some people really like my voice.  Some people, over the years, hear my voice and can’t believe that I can’t sing.  Yet, there it is.  I’m only now taking my first voice lessons.  I was a kid once: why didn’t I have voice lessons then?  I get frustrated trying to sing: it’s like there is something that everyone else can hear but I can’t.  I never learned to play a musical instrument.  Didn’t my parents notice how much I loved music?  They sure as heck grimaced when I said I wanted to watch an opera on TV: they sure as heck noticed that.  Dance lessons?  Maybe back then I would have resisted, but a few years ago I realized that I really love dance.  I’m struggling with tap right now, watching the young people pick up steps quickly.  I keep going, I keep trying, but it’s frustrating.  I wish I had tap lessons when I was young.  I wish I had taken ballet. 

Hey, I loved to draw and I was quite good at it.  I loved to act and get on stage.  I loved to write and, again, rumor was that I was quite good at it.  I won awards for my drawings.  I won awards for my writing.  What did my parents say?  I was lucky if I got an “oh, that’s nice”.  They never came to those “talent shows” at school.  They never heard the applauses I would get.  Before he died, my father said that he regretted that he never took me to an art school.  Gee, I’m so glad he finally came to that realization, 30 years too late. 

All the pieces of paper lying around with drawings and sketches . . . didn’t he notice?  Didn’t he care?  My dream of making a movie . . . that was something he (as well as the rest of my family) would use to tease me and make fun of me.  Didn’t he notice that I loved movies?  Would it shock him that, decades later, I still dream of making movies?  Didn’t he care?  I look at theatre groups like Viviana and the youth oriented classes at Hedgerow, and I ask: did things like this magically spring into being recently, in time for my kids?  I am envious: my parents never thought about finding things like this for me when I was young. 

I was clever and I was going to go to medical school and I was going to be a doctor.  THAT is what they cared about.  My father could brag about that.  And bragging rights among the other parents was all he cared about.  When I wanted to listen to a classical music piece or watch an opera, he would call it “noise” and scoff . . . but sitting around the other parents, he bragged about how his son has such tastes.  Being clever was a trap.  When I think back to my childhood, I remember tons and tons of people that wanted me to go in to their area, because Animesh would bring them glory.  Forgive me if I am cynical right now: I can only look back at that and see that I was used.  My job was to go to medical school and be a doctor, and no one cared about anything beyond that. 

Review: "Black Swan"

So, what did I think of “Black Swan”?  I really enjoyed it, but I felt like I should have loved it.  If I removed the wonderful ballet ending, I felt as though its cracks started to show, and they were major cracks. 

One request, though.  I love Natalie Portman.  I want Natalie Portman.  I need Natalie Portman.  But . . . um . . . has Natalie Portman never masturbated?  The points where she was masturbating seemed very unconvincing.  I was rolling my eyes the first time, like “oh come on!”

Another request: kill the special effects.  This movie had a really talented cast and a setting that was intense and beautiful.  I didn’t need to see a room full of paintings with their eyes moving.  I felt like that cheapened the moment.  I am torn regarding Natalie Portman turning into a swan.  On the one hand, we saw already, just in the quality of the performance, that something had changed, the “Black Swan” had taken hold.  We saw that just in the acting, so we didn’t need special effects.  On the other hand, the transformation was incorporated into the dance, and that worked really well. 

Third request: STOP SHAKING THE GODDAMN CAMERA! 

My real problem with the movie was that it felt like a nightmare sequence, but not in a good way.  In a nightmare, images shift all over the place.  Why did I suddenly see a goat here?  Who knows?  Why is it raining?  It just is.  Why is it suddenly not raining?  It just is.  That’s how nightmares work.  There were several themes at work here.  What was the deal with Milla Kunis’ character?  Was she, indeed, her rival and was trying to take the part from her?  The ballet dancer that retired and disfigured herself?  The lecherous director?  The overbearing and creepy mother?  Natalie Portman disfiguring herself?  There were a bunch of these themes, and we got glimpses into them and then . . . nothing.  None of them were developed, so it felt like these were all passed under the banner of “Natalie Portman is nuts”.  This movie deserved better than that. 

I hope that the footage that develops these themes is sitting somewhere, and that we will have a “Director’s Cut” DVD that knocks our socks off.  This movie should have been 2 hours, and I came away feeling as though it had been hacked to fit in 1 ½ hours. 

Let's talk about Jen

Much to my surprise (well, not really) there was a surprising amount of interest in my date on Saturday night.  So, let's talk about Jen. :-)  I went to a party the previous Saturday, and that was where I met her.  We sat at the bar and chatted for a while.  I found her attractive, but I especially liked her fashion sense.  She dressed like a combination bohemian, rogue, belly-dancer, and pirate . . . and it worked!  She lives in New York City, so perhaps that shouldn't surprise me.  Before I left, we exchanged some contact information, and then started e-mailing over the next few days. 

And then we started talking on the phone.  I had forgotten how much I enjoyed those late-night laying in bed phone conversations!  And yes, she responded very nicely to my voice.  We were enjoying each other's company, which is something else I had forgotten.  So, she mentioned: she was coming down to Reading the next weekend.  Could we get together for dinner or some-such?  Before we knew it, I called it a "date" . . . and she responded well to that! 

I know I am an acquired taste with women.  Not every woman finds me attractive.  I've met with women that were incredibly interested in e-mail, but upon meeting me quickly suggested that we just be friends.  I reminded myself that Jen and I had already met at the party . . . but then I remembered that the lights were dim.  I know these sorts of anxieties are silly, but they are what they are.

So, we met at a mall for a few hours of roaming-and-talking, and a linner/dunch.  It didn't take long before we were kissing.  It didn't take long before we had our arms around each other.  I am very tactile -- I like to touch, I like to kiss -- and while she had some anxieties about that, she adapted pretty quickly.  And, yes, I thought she was beautiful!  The way she looked at me, I swear she was glowing . . . and I could feel the ear-to-ear smile on my face that never seemed to diminish. 

And the kissing?  We kissed a lot.  I gently rubbed my face into her cheek and then kissed her again.  I kissed her neck, wanting to hear her purr.  And then I looked in her eyes and I looked at her smile.  Anxiety?  Now, where did that go?  This was perfect!

By the way, she revealed at one point that she hadn't been quite honest about her age.  It turned out that she was about ten years older than she had let on.  When she told me this, I had a huge grin on my face: the last few days, I had been thinking that I wished she was older!  Like I said: this was perfect!

Then, we went to a movie.  We chose a movie that didn't particularly interest me: it was good and I did enjoy myself, but it was nothing I thought about seeing.  We spent a LOT of time kissing and touching.  I had my arms around her the entire time, except when she was putting her arms around me and caressing my shoulders.  After the movie, there was the question of if I could go back with her to Reading.  She had a king's size bed in her motel room, after all.  I had to decline: I had an incredibly busy (and rather early) Sunday. 

As I was driving home, I was blasting music and singing along at the top of my lungs.  I was so happy I was laughing.  At the same time, I was kicking myself for declining going with her. 

We spoke on the phone that night.  We spoke the next evening.  "Getting to know each other" should, after all, take a nice and long time. 

She is a speech therapist.  She has an established career and has no intention of leaving New York City.  She is a singer with several bands and sometimes hosts jam sessions.  She told me that if I ever showed up for a jam session, she would find a place for me -- handing me a tambourine or some-such.  We're not talking about getting married and having kids.  She will not be moving in with me!  We're enjoying what we have, and we both appreciate the limitations that distance puts on us.  There are a million directions this might go, but right this moment I have a good feeling about it all. 

Date Night tomorrow?

Last week, I went to a party on Saturday night.  I met a couple of nice people there and we chatted a bit.  There was one woman in particular, with whom I've been chatting regularly since.  We had some of my infamous night-time in-bed conversations.  Yes, reading her a monologue from "Equus" can sound seductive when spoken a certain way.  I feel a bit more of my old self. 

I don't remember seducing Leah.  I don't remember it ever being needed.  When she re-entered my life a year and a half later, she had spent so much time stalking me that "seduction" became "saying 'yes'."  All I can remember for the past three years was being forced to take care of her.  Of dealing with her mental illnesses and her numerous quirks.  I had no energy left to seduce her.  She kept me empty. 

What will happen with this woman?  I'm not making plans.  I just want to hold hands and kiss.  And then I want to go home and sleep in my bed without a new batch of worries and stresses.  I want to enjoy romantic time with a woman and NOT take be forced to care of her. 

Well, tomorrow I'll know for certain if the timing will work.  She really wants to see me, and I really want to see her again. 

Monologues

From "Laramie Project":
"I live in the center of town.  The day of the Homecoming Parade, my leg was in a cast because of a fall.  I was really disappointed because I wanted to walk with the people that were marching for Matthew Shepard, but I couldn't.  So I watched from my window.  And it was . . . it was just . . . I'm 52 years old and I'm gay.  I've lived here a long time and I've seen a lot.  But I was really moved when I saw the tag at the end of the parade.  There were at least 100 people marching behind a banner for Matthew Shepard. 

10 minutes passed and the people marching for Matthew Shepard grew five times.  Five times!  There were over five hundred people marching for Matthew.  Five hundred people!  Can you imagine?  And, I tell you what, I started to cry.  Tears were streaming down my face.  And I thought: thank God I got to see this in my lifetime.  And my second thought was: thank you, Matthew."

From "Angels in America":
"The fountain isn't flowing right now.  They turn it off for the winter: ice in the pipes.  But in the summer, it's a sight to see!  I want to be around to see it.  I plan to be.  I hope to be.  This disease will be the death of many of us, but not nearly all.  And the dead will be commemorated and will struggle on with the living.  And we are not going away.  We will not die secret deaths any more.  The world only spins forward.  We will be citizens.  The time has come. 

Bye now.  You are all fabulous creatures, each and every one of you.  And I bless you: more life.  The great work begins!"

Tap shoes and Auditions

I bought the three of us some tap shoes.  We got the cheaper set, and all seemed fine with the world.  The first time I was using my tap shoes, I noticed that my heel taps seemed loose.  As I danced more, I realized that a nail in the heel was bent outward.  I was worried about it ripping apart the dance floor.  Next thing I knew, my older son came up to me and showed me: his heel tap had fallen off!

We returned these taps.  I decided that I was going to go ahead and get the more expensive tap shoes.  My older son, not wanting to miss a moment, said "me too!"  Grrrr. 

Well, I was able to use these new tap shoes last night.  They work a LOT better than the other pair.  Of course, nothing was loose or coming about.  Also, when I stood on my toes (which we're supposed to do most of the time), I felt like there was some "support" in the shoes.  I felt my tap dancing improve drastically. 

And then I was practicing on the auditorium floor and I slipped and fell.  Taps are slippery, ya know.  I don't think I injured anything.  I fell on one of my fingers, and it's sore but it still bends just fine.  I think it will have a nasty bruise for a while.  But, hey, you hear about tap dance tragedies all the time.  "He knew he was taking his chances" and all that. 

I have a LOT of practicing to do.  I need some more voice lessons, too (I hope I can have two), before auditions.  I need to narrow down my monologue.  One of the directors suggested I might use a more upbeat monologue, not something so "heavy", but I think the monologues I have in mind are very positive.  With my luck, a third monologue will catch my attention this next week!

Yup, crazy ex-girlfriends stick together!

My older son was dating a girl for a year and a half, or something like that.  I knew this girl before: she was one of my students in the class I taught at church.  She seemed sweet, and I was thrilled that the two of them found each other.  Of course, this was “teenage love”: I knew that it will be hugely passionate and life changing, and then suddenly stop.  What I didn't realize?  My son was continuing his father's tradition of "crazy girlfriends". 

The girl was incredibly demanding of my son’s time and was very manipulative.  He fell for it for a while, and then a “switch” was flicked in his head and he was DONE!  He broke up the correct way: he broke off all contact completely.  She was hurting, and he didn't care!  Oh, by the way, she liked faeries and cutesy stuff.  And she loved Leah. 

The other day, she wrote to me on Facebook, and essentially defended Leah.  I did respond to her, but I avoided going point-by-point.  I read some of her remarks and thought “HUH?”  I went to my older son and asked: does she have memory issues?  His response: her memory is about as good as she needs at a given moment.  If poor recollection is what she needs at some point, that’s what she had. 

She spoke, for example, about my kids not doing chores and treating Leah like their personal maid.  Did she forget how, during the first half of their relationship, my older son did Leah’s dishes several times a week?  This continued until I halted it, because Leah was being too hypercritical.  And Leah did NOT pick up after the kids: where was she getting this from?  She spoke about how we all went out to dinner together on Fridays.  Um . . . no we didn’t.  She spoke about how Leah and I only went out to eat by ourselves once or twice a month.  First, how would she know that?  And second, no!  We went out to eat a lot more than that! 

I actually asked my older son about some of these facts.  Perhaps I was remembering it wrong.  Was there a period of time when we all used to go out to eat every Friday?  Nope, he confirmed.  We might go out now and then, but this was definitely not a regular thing.  I remembered how she was rarely ever at my home.  She kept insisting my son go to her home, and spend hours there.  She did come to my home a few times, but it was exactly that: a few times.  Heck, I remember Leah calling him repeatedly ON MY BIRTHDAY before she finally allowed him to come home.  He confirmed this as well: from the start, she rarely spent time at my home. 

I made clear to her.  Leah badmouthed me until I received a death threat.  Leah badmouthed every ex-boyfriend she has ever had.  If she believes that Leah has suddenly stopped badmouthing me now that we are no longer together, I have bridge to sell her! 

In the end, I just wish that I had that “on/off” switch my son seems to possess.  I wondered, when he broke up with his girlfriend, how heartless he was being.  He cared about this girl, after all.   This girl was his life.  And . . . click, and his feelings for her were gone.  I now realize he was doing this correctly.  I wish I could do that!

By the way, she and her family are planning to come to Pennsic this year.  I don’t anticipate any problems between her and my son: there are 12,000 people at Pennsic, after all.  It will be nice.  One thing she will need to watch for, however: I will be at the dance pavilion a lot, as is always the case for me.  They know me there.  They like me there, they are my friends.  She used to be very critical of my dancing.  If she hasn’t learned some restraint about that, she will suddenly find herself very unpopular.  They don’t mind people joking around there, but they do NOT like people seriously knocking another person’s dance! 

A quick one-month review of my iPad

I've had my iPad for over a month now . . . so what do I think of it?

Back in '07, I bought my first iPhone. I had some extra money and I . . . just . . . wanted it. I remarked afterwards that this was one of the few times I have bought a not-cheap “gadget” and felt no buyer's remorse at all. I loved the thing! I kept finding new uses for it that I never imagined before. Now, the iPad? Oh yes, I love this thing as well!

Yes, the iPad is an iPod Touch with a bigger (higher resolution) screen and a much faster processor. But, let's think about that. When I want to quickly check my e-mail or Facebook, I could fire up a computer. And I would sit and wait for the thing to boot up or come out of sleep mode. That might not seem like a huge annoyance, but when I was able to pick up my iPhone, click a button, and read my e-mail in an instance, that wait is an eternity! With the iPad, I get that same convenience, and I get to read my e-mail or Facebook on a comfortably sized screen. That doesn't sound like a big deal? OH YES IT IS! The screen size also makes reading e-books and web surfing a pleasure. And, yes, games are much, much nicer.

My only complaints about the iPad? I didn't put out the extra money to get an iPad that worked with AT&T's 3G service. That means that I'm constantly thinking “oh, I wish I could . . .” Seriously, though, I'm rarely away from WiFi service, so that would have been an added expense that I really didn't need. The iPad could be a bit lighter. It's not heavy by any stretch of the imagination, but if you are sitting in bed reading on the iPad for three hours, you start to feel it. A Kindle, for example, is noticeably lighter (by the way, did I mention that I have something like five e-book readers on my iPad? Try that with a Kindle!). My biggest complaint is that in a few months, Apple will release a new model of the iPad that will blow this away. When you are dealing with Apple products, however, that is a given: next year there will be a new model, get over it.   

Love having a price

Not every lover has used me.  But surprisingly many have. 

Leah?  Oh yes.  Once she left, without her 24/7 manipulation, I realized that she had just been using me.  She wasn't just love-struck and unaware-of-boundaries early on: she was pushing me to be her boyfriend (read: stalking me) because she knew she would have to move soon and she needed someone to let her move in.  My income isn't large, but it was sufficient to allow her to live a life-style beyond her means.  She was just using me. 

Prior to Leah, I dated a woman I will refer to as X.  She was the worst case.  She wanted me to let her and her kids move in with me, and to that end she was willing to love me with every fiber of her being.  Leah started her games right after X left.  Before Leah left, I asked her: "Didn't you think I had gone through enough?  Didn't you think she had put me through enough?"  She said she did, and she felt certain she was better for me than X.  I don't believe her: I believe Leah saw how I was with X as "oh good, a sucker!" 

One of my revelations, after Leah was gone, was that I was far more heartbroken with X than I was with Leah.  After X left, I painfully asked "could she have just been using me?"  After Leah left, I simply shrugged and said "yeah, she was using me."  I pondered the difference in attitude.  X was far more attractive and far sexier than Leah.  X had a much nicer body.  Further, sex with X was by far the best I had ever had in my life.  Leah had a cute face, and that was about it.  Sex, sensuality?  Leah didn't have a clue.  She expected it from me, but did nothing in return.  Losing X meant losing the way she used to touch me every night in bed, and the resulting love-making.  Losing Leah meant losing a warm body to snuggle against at night.  Could this account for the different attitudes? 

Both liked to surround themselves with lonely desperate men.  For Leah, we found her charming and delightful based solely on the presence of two X chromosomes.  For X, we found her hot and sexy, and were willing to put up with any sorts of abuse because we never imagined being with another woman that had breasts like that. 

Both X and Leah were my constant companions.  We did just about everything together.  With X, however, we included the kids.  Leah went out of her way to NOT include the kids.  A more honest description was that Leah was trying her best to drive a wedge between my kids and me.  X did plenty of activities with the kids, and my kids knew they could count on her.  X would help with school projects, X would drive them to any and all activities and X would take part.  When the high school play was going to be "Sound of Music", X was enthusiastic.  She coached my older son for auditions, and told him that if he was in the play she would be at every performance.  And, guess what?  She was at every performance.  I can't think of a single time Leah showed that sort of enthusiasm for anything with the kids.  As a result, when X left, my kids felt the loss as well.  When Leah left, my kids celebrated. 

In between X and Leah was Rhiannon.  We had a nice month-and-a-half together.  Rhiannon was getting ready to move to Oregon.  I offered, if she changed her mind, for her to stay with me for a little while.  Rhiannon declined.  She wasn't using me.  We just enjoyed each other, and now have the joy of simply missing each other.  After X and Leah, I get cynical . . . would Rhiannon act the same way if she ever moved back?  One part of me believes that she wouldn't.  Another part of me has been brainwashed by Leah and by X: "no woman can possibly love you just for yourself . . . every woman will just pretend to love you so long as she can use you."  I know that I am being cautious right now because a part of me believes what Leah and X wanted me to believe.  That will pass in its own time.  I hope. 

A nice Thursday night

The other day, Leah tried to get me into an e-mail argument.  She and I have basically restricted our communications to what-is-needed in order to get our post-breakup details cleared.  She was asking about things she might have left and I remarked that I’ll keep an eye on things . . . up to a limit.  I made clear: “we are NOT friends, after all”.  She jumped on that.  I quickly noticed what she was doing – remember that she played me almost continuously for five years, so it must be a hard habit to break.  I cut the argument short.  I’m not interested in her games any more. 

It would seem that she has found the things I have been writing about her.  She assures me that she will follow her parents’ teachings of keeping what happened between us to ourselves.  I didn’t find this very convincing.  If she truly followed the teachings of her parents, possibly the four most disgusting people I have ever personally known, she would be threatening to kill me.  Further, she grossly violated my privacy to everyone she could, and especially to her family.  She badmouthed me until I received a death threat.  But now, she assures me, she won’t badmouth me anymore.  I guess she forgets that I know her pretty well: I’ve heard her badmouth every single one of her ex-boyfriends.  But, I guess she’s learned her lesson and will not do that again.  Yeah, I believe that.  She might very well dislike the things I've written about her, but at least it's all true.  If she gets a death threat as a result of what I have written, and if I take the side of the person making the death threat, I guess she has a right to complain. 

She made a snark about how I despise her parents.  I guess I should correct that: I despise her parents AND her.  I don’t know what world she and her family live in, but in THIS world, a death threat is usually a good reason to despise someone.  I did NOTHING to earn their hatred, and the fact that Leah has had to lie through her teeth to create some sort of justification proves that.  They (the five of them) worked hard to earn my hatred.  To not despise them would be . . . unappreciative. 

Last night, I got together with some new friends.  It was a nice "adults" evening.  It was nice to do this without Leah.  It was nice to flirt without Leah making sure she jumped in the middle of it.  It was nice to not have to keep an eye on her as she would make herself the center-of-attention to a crowd of desperate men.  It was nice to have some grown-up conversation, without Leah’s inane aren’t-I-just-so-cute moments (“I have fingers” and her endless repetition of the same joke about my cat). 

I flirted with Leah the first time we met.  After she dumped me then, the flirting stopped.  While she was stalking me that first time, I didn’t flirt.  A year and a half later, when she was stalking me even more forcefully, I didn’t flirt.  I can’t think of a time when I “wanted” her.  I can’t think of a time when she “aroused” me.  Leah was firmly of the mindset that men should be permanently aroused, and that she need not put any effort at all.  That might have worked when I was a teenager . . . but I’m not.  I remember challenging her to arouse me, and she admitted she couldn’t think of anything.  I found this surprising, given that she is quite sexually obsessed and almost constantly reads pornography.  I remember times when I was thinking about sex with her, and in my mind it was a chore I needed to do in order to keep her happy.  I wondered if my lack of interest was due to some health issues.  I am getting old, after all.  Perhaps my testosterone level was down.  Perhaps I suffered from E.D. 

And then I have a night like last night.  Flirting with a woman that behaved like an intelligent grown-up!  She didn’t simply respond to the flirting.  She actively flirted with me!  It was fun and it was exciting, and yes that simple conversation aroused me.  I do hope to see her again . . . oh yes, I do.  She’s older than me and is an established professional.  She seemed to actually have an attention span.  She was actually able to maintain her part in a conversation: she has actually lived a life and actually has something to say.  She’s a grown-up. 

Sometimes, you don’t realize how much you’ve missed something. 

No, I’m not falling for this woman.  I’m just remembering how much I love being around women like that.  I haven’t had enough of this in my life, and I want more. 

I’ve been invited to a party on Saturday night.  I think I will attend.  My ex-wife is planning on borrowing the kids that night, so it should work.  Leah is planning on being out of town (I think I know where she will be, and I don’t really care), so I won’t run the risk of running in to her.  Maybe the fates are pointing me in that direction. 

A note to Leah

Leah:

THIS IS NOT FOR YOU.

You knew, the first time that you decided to screw me over, that some day I would be writing about it.  You knew, when you decided to leave in December, that the time had come.  You might think that "the rules" shouldn't apply to you and your scrum-bag family, but I disagree.  And this is MY blog. 

Read this at your own risk.  You know the drill.  I will look at your behavior in the end and I will extrapolate it backwards.  I will write about things I let slip in the past, and I will make connections and start figuring out what was really happening.  I will be honest, and at times brutally honest.  If you don't want to be confronted by a harsh documenting and analysis of your behavior, DO NOT READ THIS.  THIS IS NOT FOR YOU. 

Have a nice day.

Racism from "Experience"? It's still wrong.

One of the most popular excuses for racism that I have encountered is “It’s not racism . . . its experience”.  Another popular excuse is “I’m not racist against them . . . they’re racist against me!”  I’ve experienced both of these from members of my own family.  I found, since Leah’s departure, a need to avoid jumping into that territory.  My negative experience is not with the Jewish community.  It’s with Leah’s family.  And they are NOT “the Jewish community”.  They are simple scum.  Leah is simple scum.  And their racism against me is THEIR OWN.  I am entitled to hate them for that, but that is nothing more than a community of one mentally ill woman and her four mentally ill parents. 

Do I have issues with Judaism?  Yes, of course I do.  There are a number of things about the faith and the culture that do not appeal to me.  Guess what?  It’s not the only religion in the world.  I found in Hinduism a religion that better matches my beliefs.  I don’t look down at people for whom this faith “works”: that’s great for them!  Most of the Jews I have known, similarly, don’t look down at me because their faith doesn’t work for me.  The fact that Leah’s parents looked down at me is a character flaw in them.  It is not a flaw in Judaism. 

Leah’s parents’ hatred of me started with the fact that I am not Jewish.  For that horrid crime on my part, the first time I met them they wouldn’t even make eye contact.  I’m sure Leah denies this ever happened.  After they started behaving halfway civilized towards me, this attitude still remained.  Over dinner, they would speak at great length about their culture, yet showed no interest whatsoever in my culture.  Leah’s step-mother even made some snarky “we’re better than you” remarks about my culture.  I was polite, even if they clearly had no clue about the rules of hospitality.  Their house was filled with items showing a great pride in their religion and their culture.  Her parents crossed a line, however: being proud of your own faith and culture doesn’t oblige looking down at others.  When I first met Leah, she shared this outlook.  She openly declared, for example, that if she ever moved in with me, she would impose kosher diet rules on my household, even though we are not Jewish.  

After she left, I was home one day and I was channel-surfing.  I came across an episode of “People’s Court”.  The plaintiff in the case was a Jewish couple.  They were trying to defraud some poor drycleaners, and the judge uncovered this.  I remember feeling an instant dislike to the Jewish couple.  The man had a smug look on his face and sported his yarmulke.  I try to attribute this to bad acting.  The issue at hand was a wig, which the woman wore because of a requirement that she cover her hair.  When the judge uncovered their attempt at defrauding the court of the value of the wig, they left the court and refused to talk about anything.  They would not show any remorse, despite the fact that their scam had been uncovered.  Again, I suspect this was just bad acting.  I cannot deny, though, that part of my dislike was due to how I had been treated at the hands of a family that shared that cultural pride.  I realized, in myself, that I am capable of a similar racism.

“Experience” does not justify anything, unless I can say that this “experience” is with a critical mass of Jewish people.  And guess what?  It isn’t.  Rather, my “experience” with most Jews shows that Leah’s family’s behavior is an exception to the rule.  And my hatred – and yes, I have every right to hatred – must be pointed to them and only them.  Being the victim of racism does not insulate you from showing the same racism.  This was something that Leah and her parents don’t understand, but that I do.  I owe them no apology, and I will continue to hate them.  But it will be ONLY them. 

"42nd Street"

There is a very good chance that I will be in "42nd Street" this May.  To that end, I'm taking tap dance classes and this Sunday I will be starting voice lessons (both are taught by the person that runs the theatre company that will be putting on "42nd Street").  The only reason I might not be in this play is if I get a good part in "A Streetcar Named Desire", because those performance dates will conflict. 

Now, the "Streetcar" performance had pre-cast the role of Stan.  Beyond Stan, there aren't very many interesting male characters in "Streetcar".  I auditioned for two.  If I get the role of Mitch, I will likely take that offer, and not be in "42nd Street".  If I get the other role, I'll need to think about it.  If I'm offered any of the other roles, I likely will turn it down. 

The simple fact is that "42nd Street" is going to be spectacular, with some amazing dance routines and staging that will leave the audience breathless.  If I got a small part in "42nd Street", I'll still be a part of at least some of those.  If I get one of the other (much smaller) parts in "Streetcar", I'll . . . just . . . be there.  I'll say my one or two lines, and that would be that.  Sorry, in that case "42nd Street" wins. 

Of course, I'm aiming for a more significant part in "42nd Street": specifically, the director, Julian.  That means that I will close the show: I'll be on stage alone at the very end, singing the theme song.  That's going to be quite a challenge for me!  On the other hand, I don't think he does a whole lot of dancing. 

So, anyway, the other day it dawned on me.  When people talk "Broadway show", they're talking about something like "42nd Street".  For the audition, I have two monologues chosen.  One is from a gay man, from the play "Laramie Project".  The other is from a gay man, at the end of the play "Angels in America".  And here I am, shamelessly heterosexual!  Hey, I found this all rather funny! 

Just some details . . .

I was just discussing with Magalie: she was under the impression that Leah was the sort that would just walk away.  Sure, she would badmouth the daylights out of the person to anyone that can give her sympathy, but that's another matter.  Did I have reason for concerns about her game-playing?  Magalie's questions were, in my opinion, something that needs to be addressed.  So . . .

I think it comes down to if she perceives a need.  What might this need be?  I have no idea, but the fact that I don't know doesn't mean I shouldn't be prepared.  For Leah, the need might be nothing more than "I'm bored".  In any case:

(1) Let's not forget that Leah already has a history of this with me.  She dumped me for someone else, yet kept bugging me every chance she had.  I made it VERY clear to her that I didn't want to talk to her, but she wouldn't leave me alone. 

(2) With at least one "ex", after breaking up with him she showed up at his place disoriented, not sure why she was there, etc. 

(3) She has logged on to one "ex"'s bank account and e-mail account, to see what he was doing. 

(4) She has e-mailed "ex's".  She told me she was just "poking" him in order to see what would happen. 

(5) I know she has used various resources to find ex's on the web.  She finds their profiles on personals sites, she finds their blogs, she finds their home addresses, etc. 

There is one case of an "ex" with whom she has maintained a friendship.  More power to him, but I will not be like that.  I tend to have a flexible view of "friendship", but I would like to think that anyone that calls himself or herself a "friend" to me would . . . oh I don't know . . . show me some sympathy and concern when I receive a death threat.  And besides, Leah's not exactly a sparkling conversationalist. 

So, yes, that is why I have been concerned as to what she might do in the future, when she has a need or when she gets bored or whatever.  I'm hoping that she will find my (deliberately placed) Livejournal links to this blog, and she will read what I have written.  She will realize, I hope, that I am not available for whatever scheme she has planned, and she will leave me alone. 

Progress?

Folks, we're approaching one whole month with me not dating anyone! 

This is actually a big deal!  In my life, "having a girlfriend or lover" has always been a priority.  In '07, I was supposed to spend some time alone after a bad breakup.  I needed to be sad and sleep in an empty bed.  I needed to reconnect with my kids, bring the three of us together again and say "this is OUR lives, this is OUR home, and we don't need anyone else."  It was going to be difficult, because it needed to be.  L wouldn't have any of that.  I was vulnerable, as I should be at that time, and she exploited that for her own needs.  I guess I should be thankful that she pushed herself into my life.  Now, I am going through what I should have gone through in '07 . . . but now I'm finding it much easier.

I can count on one hand the number of women with whom I've been involved in "serious" relationships.  They all have one thing in common: they all used me.  All of them.  With most, I find myself in better terms now . . . but it doesn't change the fact that when we were involved, they used me.  What's the message here?  True love exists for some people, but not me?  The only way I will feel love is from someone that is, ultimately, just using me?  Maybe it's a sign that I'm getting old, but I'm finding the prospect of being alone to be preferable to going through this.  If women like L are the best I can hope for from the world of women, then TO HELL WITH THEM ALL. 

I'm not sad now and I'm not in pain.  I am a person that just spent three years gasping for breath, that is finally peering out of the water.  I'm being hit with a fascinating logic: if I don't want to be constantly drowning, maybe I shouldn't spend so much time underwater? 

Of course, the challenge of this year is not to "not date".  That is a challenge for me, but not the challenge of the year.  Eventually, I need to date again.  I need to keep my head on straight.  I need to stop the temptation of making excuses for the woman, I need to stop myself from holding on in the hopes that things will get better.  I need to stop myself from hoping that some day this relationship will mean as much to her as it does to me . . . if I find myself asking that question, I need to say "I won't stand for this" and leave.  Now, THAT is a challenge! 

Can I do this?  Yes I can.  I believe I can.

Singing

Well, it remains to be seen . . . but on Wednesday I’m starting voice lessons.  I’m in this for the long-haul: I want to learn to sing.  I don’t just want to be able to pull off a song here or there, I want to be able to sing.  That will take years.  I’m hoping that I’ll be able to use these skills in shows before that, of course.

I sang in chorus in 8^th grade, and . . . that was it.  In college, I recall auditioning for a chorus, and getting nowhere.  That little thing where he hits a note on the piano and asks me to sing it?  I failed miserably.  20 years later, I auditioned for a musical and I failed that same test.  I still got a part in the play – they loved my speaking voice, so they asked me to be the narrator.  Note that the narrator doesn’t sing. 

I avoided singing for the next five years, even though I was in musicals.  I stuck with the Christmas show, where I was effectively the narrator-of-choice.  The big spring-time shows?  They begged me to try my hand at one of those shows, but there was no narrator there.  I would need to sing . . . and I couldn’t sing. 

Last year, I watched both of my boys performing in a gender reversed version of “Pirates of Penzance”.  Why wasn’t I on stage with them?  Because I couldn’t sing.  My ever-loving girlfriend didn’t help matters.  She sang in choirs, she was classically trained and all that.  And she insisted that I was tone deaf, and would never be able to sing.  She didn’t just say that to me.  As she introduced me to people involved in the choir, she was quick to announce that I’m tone deaf.  Of course, she wasn’t qualified to make that diagnosis, but she did anyway. 

From when I decided I would audition for “Godspell”, she found that nice combination of being critical and refusing to be helpful.  I began to wonder if I was hitting upon insecurity on her part: could it be that she needed me to be bad at singing?  On stage, I was a far better actor than she.  And I was a far better dancer than she.  We could go further – writing, drawing, painting – but you get the idea.  Well, for “Godspell”, I left it to the directors, since L was being incredibly unhelpful.  They never asked me to lip sync.  I sang and I sang loudly.  And I didn’t bring down the whole show: I wasn’t as bad as I had thought! 

Perhaps this is the year I learn to sing.  Perhaps this is the year I actually stand up and sing, and I get an actual applause.  I’m not a “musical” fan, but if I’m going to be in musicals, I want to be more than “the narrator” or “person six in row three”. 

Leah, part 4

2010 was our final year together.  The year began with a hope that this year would turn out better than the last year: what a joke!  Near the end of the 2010, I told Leah: if we have another year like this, we won't make it for another year.  And, in December, she decided that she had enough.  Let me emphasize the irony here: she decided that she had enough.  After all she had put me through, she was the one that decided she couldn't take any more. 

Today at church, I was chatting with a friend.  I told him that in '07, I went through a really bad breakup.  That was a time in my life when I needed to be alone.  It needed to be my kids and me, rebuilding our lives.  And, yes, I was lonely.  I needed to be.  But Leah would have none of that.  She forced herself into my life, capitalized on my loneliness, and applied a constant pressure.  This was to get what she wanted -- a place to live when she turned 25.  She didn't care at all about me and what was best for me.  I asked her, the week before she left: back then, didn't she think I had gone through enough? 

Early on in 2010, I decided to open a joint account with Leah.  No sooner did we do this, than Leah squandered a good bit of money.  She went to visit her mother in Myrtle Beach, but messed up the reservations for the return. To return on the date she needed to return, she had to pay extra.  Once she was back, that same week, she made another mistake that cost several hundreds of dollars.  She justified her behavior with “what was I supposed to do?”  I asked: “what would you have done if you didn’t have such free access to my money?”  I told her that I felt as though she was using me.  In the end, she said she understood and she said she was sorry.  She would get a part-time job and pay me back. 

She never got the part-time job.  She searched for maybe a month, and after that there was no sign at all that she was still looking.  She declared that, with a part-time job, she wouldn’t be able to take classes . . . an odd statement, since she had stopped taking classes when she moved in with me.  She declared that she wouldn’t be able to volunteer at my church any more.  She spoke of how she would need to cut back on housework, even though she really didn’t do much.  She didn’t, however, actually find a job.  When I think back to that, I saw an interesting pattern.  She did something that got me very upset (in this case, I was prepared to end the relationship).  She said she understood and was sorry and that she would make up for it or fix it.  As a result, I calmed down.  But . . . she didn’t actually follow through and do anything she had promised. 

Over the next few months, she continued to squander.  Having access to my paychecks, her food shopping costs shot up drastically.  She damaged my car, and I wound up paying for it.  Her car had some major problems, and I wound up paying for it.  Her debt to me kept growing.  She insisted that she would have paid me back, but she couldn’t find a part-time job. 

I started getting annoyed at some of her rude behavior.  If I ever put on a movie, Leah would IMMEDIATELY take out her iPhone and start web surfing.  As much as I love movies, I saw that I simply could not share movies with her.  She was also incredibly snobby about her movie tastes.  She acted as though movies I liked were below her, yet she was not noted for having such grand tastes herself (by the way, she didn't just act this way with comedies or action movies: when I would put on, say, a Shakespeare play, she acted the exact same way).  This was a personality trait Leah shared with her parents, and something I seriously did not like.  She once justified her behavior by pointing out that I didn’t like the movie “Rent”.  I told her that I, indeed, did not like that movie.  However, when she put it on, I sat and I watched it.  I gave it a chance, before determining I didn’t like it.  Unlike her, I didn’t spend the time rudely web surfing.  When she saw how much her behavior upset me, she said she understood and she will work on that.  Of course, she never did. 

Leah came home from a visit with her therapist, talking about how they were discussing her relationship with my older son.  She remarked that her therapist agreed: she blew her relationship with him.  She had a sad look on her face. We discussed things she could do to help rebuild that relationship.  Of course, she did none of those things.  She maintained a sort of cold war against my son: the two simply avoided each other. 

I took Leah to see “Godspell” one night.  Given the chip on her shoulder about Jesus, I wasn’t sure how she would handle this.  She wound up loving the play.  A few months later, I found auditions for another production of “Godspell”.  I asked her if she was interested, and she said “yes”. 

I decided I would audition as well.  Could Leah help me prepare for the singing audition?  She wouldn’t.  Despite being a classically trained singer, she couldn’t seem to help me with the simplest steps.  Instead, she declared that I was tone deaf, and would never be able to sing.  She even openly stated this to people (including members of her choir and members of this theatre company), as though it was an established fact: “he’s tone deaf”. 

We both got parts in the play.  We worked hard over the next few months.  We didn’t work hard together, however.  Leah criticized my singing and my dancing (even though my dancing was much better than hers), yet never offered any suggestions to help: she would say "it's wrong", but couldn't seem to say what was wrong!  At one point, when trying to discuss a dance, she kept interrupting me and belittling what I was saying.  What was going on here?  I decided that I could not rehearse this play with her or around her.  When she saw that this was upsetting me, she said she understood and that she would work on that.  Of course, she never did. 

In the middle of all of this, Leah, the boys, and I went on vacation to Pennsic.  At one point, the local Baroness held a “Court of Love”.  People stood up and issued complaints about their significant other, and the Baroness would issue tasks.  It was all meant as fun and games.  Leah went before this to complain that I never buy her jewelry.  The Baroness took the expected course: I was to purchase jewelry for Leah at Pennsic.  The boys found this hilarious, and all four of us sat and laughed about this.  Suddenly, Leah yelled at my kids for joking about this.  I told her: this was NOT acceptable!  The kids had done nothing wrong.  This either was a joke, and they could laugh about this . . . or Leah had just bad-mouthed me in front of most of my SCA friends and behaved incredibly unappreciatively. 

At some point during this fight, Leah called her mother to complain.  Her mother communicated this with her other parents, and they decided that I was abusive to Leah.  They made their decision to take action on this. 

Months later, when Leah's stepfather made mentioning of this as his excuse for his actions against me,  her story about this changed.  She claimed that the next morning, I made a remark that Leah’s whole personality was a joke.  After making such a horribly cruel statement to her, THEN she called her mother to complain and vent.  I remarked that I didn’t remember having said that, and that it didn’t even sound like me.  Further, I don’t remember a lingering argument after that . . . she must have gotten over this incredibly cruel statement pretty quickly.  Further, she never even mentioned this horribly cruel statement to me until four months later?  I believe that Leah either made this up completely or she twisted something else I might have said.  She needed a justification for hers and her parents' behavior.  She didn’t call and vent because she had yelled at my kids for no reason: she called and vented because I had said something cruel to her.  Her parents weren’t racists, they hated me because I said cruel things like that to Leah. 

“Godspell” came.  For the final performance, all four of her parents came to see the performance.  During the intermission, her step-father came up and cornered me against the stage.  He threatened to kill me.  Leah’s mother and step-mother stated they agreed with him, but her father remained quiet.  He stated later that he agreed.  Where was Leah during all of this?  Leah saw her step-father talking to me, with his back to her.  She couldn’t hear what he was saying, so really had no idea what was going on.  Without knowing what was happening, she was SO upset that she ran outside.  She didn’t come up and tell her step-father to back off?  She didn’t even come up to see what was happening?  I suspect that Leah knew her stepfather was planning some sort of assault on me. 

Leah didn’t want to talk about what had happened.  Furious at their behavior, I found myself yelling about it.  She complained “why are you yelling at me?”  I saw that she was completely unsympathetic.  I wrote about the incident on my Facebook.  Leah told me that her father had learned of my Facebook entry and was upset about it.  She demanded I remove the entry and stop writing about the incident.  I refused.  I find this to be incredibly tacky: she demanded that I not write about having a death threat because it might upset one of the people that was involved with the death threat? 

For years, Leah had no problem saying that her parents hated me because I wasn’t Jewish. I applied a new term to that sort of attitude: racism.  Suddenly, she was up in arms.  Her step-mother wrote her an e-mail stating that it wasn’t because of racism that she hated me, but because of all these other reasons.  I told Leah: find me a racist that admits to racism?  Her step-mother's e-mail didn’t prove anything.  I challenged her: I reminded her of how her father acted the very first time I met him, when he knew nothing about me . . . it certainly seemed like prejudice.  Leah started rewriting history.  The hatred was because I was older, divorced and had children.  They would have preferred that I was Jewish, but that wasn’t an issue.  I told her: older, divorced, and having children were reasons to think a person might not be a good match, but NOT reasons for hatred.  She responded by avoiding at all costs the use of the word “hate”. She then fabricated the story about Pennsic, as a justification for how her parents grew to “not like” me because of how I treated her.  Once she left, she demonstrated that she was determined to bend over backwards to justify her parents behavior. 

Right after the incident, she claimed that she had heard from “other sources” that her step-father had not threatened me.  This turned in to the claim that he didn’t threaten to kill me.  When I pressed for who these “other sources” were, it turned out that this was a claim made by her mother.  Her mother, further, claimed that her step-father was saying simply what all four of them felt.  Her mother made the claim that all four of them knew what her step-father was planning.  I found this shocking: they knew he was planning on threatening me, brought him anyway, and did nothing to stop him or help?  They were complicit in this assault!  I now strongly suspect that Leah herself knew that her step-father was planning something; that she chose to run outside instead of helping (and, likely, putting the entire incident to rest).  Ultimately, Leah herself was complicit in this.  That was, likely, why she showed me no sympathy and worked so hard to justify her parents’ behavior. 

Leah’s claim is that she went to her parents and demanded they apologize to me, else she would have nothing more to say to them.  I do not believe she did anything of the sort.  She apparently stopped talking to her mother, but I believe that this had to do with her mother’s history of justifying her husband’s behavior.  Leah’s step-mother, when I went to her for help after the threat, screamed at me: she behaved far worse than Leah’s mother, yet Leah did not stop talking to her.  Clearly, Leah's decision to stop talking to her mother had nothing to do with how her mother treated me.  Leah had no explanation for this.  A week after the incident, Leah was exchanging cat pictures with her father, all the while she claimed she demanded he apologize to me.  Worse yet, on several cases, she forwarded me pictures of her father’s cat!  "Here's the cat of one of the people that threatened to kill you . . . ain't she cute?"  To put it mildly, I found her lack of sympathy shocking. 

Leah's next show was “Hairspray”, which she was performing with my younger son.  Her father and step-mother were coming for a performance.  Naturally, I was concerned about his safety (just as Leah had vented about me, she most certainly vented about my kids).  At my request, her parents were seated so that they could not interfere with the production.  People were watching in case they attempted to speak to my son.  At this point, I discovered that Leah had not told her father that ANYTHING was at all wrong!  When asked about their seating (why they weren’t being seated in the front row), Leah lied and told them that she didn’t know why!  I wrote an e-mail to her father, saying “stay away from my son”.  Her father was apparently furious about this. 

Leah lost her job.  Her father offered to pay for her insurance.  Leah told me: she couldn’t confront him about his behavior because she needed his help.  This, of course, was fine . . . given that she didn’t seem fit to confront him about his behavior for three months prior!  Right after she went out to visit him and go over different insurance options, she came home and declared that she was siding with her father: she demanded that he had nothing to do with the incident and could not be held accountable.  She then evolved this excuse into attempts at justifying his behavior -- that he was reacting to how horribly I was treating her.  To justify that, she needed to lie through her teeth.  Ultimately, her excuse stemmed from her constant venting about me.  At what point is it “venting” and at what point is it “badmouthing”?  I asked her: “you badmouthed me until I got a death threat . . . what are you going to do to try to fix this?”  Her answer was that she was leaving me. 

The week before she left, she determined she would not tell me why.  She, essentially, was running down the clock.  She devised nonsensical reasons and even started making claims reflecting her mental issues in the past (she claimed to have been “trapped in the box” again; she claimed to have been hearing voices again).  All these served to do was make me question all of those incidents.  Was it all a game?  I must say “yes”.  I made clear to her: once she moves back with her parents, I cannot allow her back in my life.  Her parents are violent racists that made a death threat against me.  If she is living with them, living in that echo chamber, it will not be long before she is a danger to me.  I don’t think she minded: she left.  One thing I managed to get out of the deal was that her father paid the money she owed me.  Of course, in a continued demonstration of his contempt, he refused to make the check to me.  He made the check out to Leah, but that was fine because we still had the joint account. 

Once word got out that she and I were breaking up, my kids came to me.  I expected my older son to be thrilled that she was leaving, but I was quite surprised at how much my younger son disliked her.  I don't know if I could have stopped Leah from leaving, but seeing how my kids felt, I knew that I shouldn't even try.  Her departure has brought the three of us closer together.  As for me: I was surprised at how easy this was.  Once she was gone, I felt a certain sigh of relief.  The other day, I went to the movies . . . and rather than missing her, my thoughts about her were that it was nice to go to a movie and not deal with her attitude.  Maybe I'm, indeed, better off with her departure.

Leah, part 3

As I post this, I am feeling more and more like it is important that I write this.  Yes, this is incredibly unfair.  This is my version of events.  I wrote this less than a month after she left.  And, I am looking at her behavior that last week before she left, and letting it color my recollection of her from day 1.  I see her differently now than I did two months ago.  A year from now, maybe I'll remember her differently . . . and that is why I must write this.  I have no doubt that she is badmouthing me to anyone that will listen -- when we were together, she badmouthed me until I received a death threat, so why should that change now that we are apart?  She's probably made up whole incidents in an effort to make herself sympathetic.  She has likely reinforced her parents' perceptions, so they likely believe it was the "right thing" to have threatened me.  And she probably has no lack of men willing to believe anything she says and wanting so-much to be there for her.  I've heard the way she talks about her ex's, and no doubt she is doing the same with me.  For those that read this, I can't make you believe what I say if you are inclined to not do so.  To you, I can only hope you find this story entertaining. 

But what I am writing IS true.  And the important thing is that, later when I am lonely and missing her, I can read this.  The important thing is that I believe it. 

In early '08, Leah had some major psychiatric incidents that threatened her plan of moving in with me.  She seemed to improve, and with no further psychiatric incidents, it was time for Leah to move in.  By this point, there was no relationship at all between her and my older son.  To be fair, he was spending all of his time with his girlfriend, so no one really had much time with him.  Shortly after she moved in with me, Leah started becoming dissatisfied with the time I spent with my kids – even though this was one of the things she claims attracted her to me in the first place.  She started arranging for us to have our own time, leaving my younger son alone.  This went well for a while, but it started getting excessive. 

Conflicts were starting to emerge between my older son and Leah.  Leah was cooking most nights (although we ate out a great deal: remember that Leah never did nearly as much housework as she claimed), and he continued to refuse to eat her cooking.  As a result, it became expected that he would do the dishes every night.  Leah generated huge amounts of dishes every night, and he would clean them.  Leah started becoming incredibly critical of his job with the dishes.  My son started getting annoyed that he was doing dishes for dinners she was cooking, but she refused to give him any say in what she was making for dinner.  I discussed options with Leah for reducing the amount of dishes (by making simpler meals and by using disposable cups and plates), and about once-in-a-while making foods the kids might like, but Leah became FURIOUS at the suggestions.  She insisted that I had said she had “absolute authority” in the kitchen, which is something I never said.  She unilaterally refused any such suggestions.  After we fought enough about this I made it clear that it was not fair, and my older son would not be doing dishes every night any more.  This was to be revisited as part of Leah’s rebuilding her relationship with my kids, which never happened. 

I started having health problems.  This was when her father and step-mother started to invite me to lunches or dinners.  I was polite company, and they took great joy in explaining their Jewish traditions to me.  It didn’t take long, however, to notice that they were eager to explain their ways to me, but had absolutely no interest in getting to know me.  They never asked about my traditions.  They never asked about my job or even my kids!  Her step-mother did make an occasional “we’re better than you” snark, but that was about it.  As unpleasant as they were, this was a major improvement in how they had been acting.  This allowed me to get the illusion that maybe they were starting to like me.  . 

After my heart surgery, I needed Leah to “grow up” in a hurry.  She rarely drove, but now I needed her to do the driving.  I needed her to get the kids to school.  I needed her to start contributing to the household finances – prior to that she almost never paid for anything.  Suddenly, she started complaining about fibromyalgia pain.  Leah was exhausted all of the time.  She complained about the housework that fell on her.  She complained that her boss at work was harassing her.  She complained about what seemed constant pain.  Finally, the fibromyalgia was diagnosed, and she took a short-term disability leave from her job. 

By the way, she would argue that her fibromyalgia was MORE serious than my heart problems.  She did have a point with that, although I found that to be a bit immature. 

Leah frequently complained about all the housework that she did and how she never had help.  This was one of her complaints before she left – that she felt like a maid.  She described how when she finished her long work days, she had to come home, get changed, and immediately start with the housework.  After she made this claim, I pointed out that it wasn’t true.  When I came home, night after night, I would find that she was upstairs in the bedroom.  She was either asleep or using her laptop.  She had been there since coming home from work: she was not, as she had claimed, spending that time doing housework.  She changed her story: this was exhaustion because of her fibromyalgia.  That may well be true, but it did completely invalidate her claims of being flooded with housework.  Later, she changed her explanation: that was her “alone” time that she needed for her own sanity.  Again, that may be true, but it did completely invalidate her claims about housework. 

Around this time, Leah first mentioned her step-father.  She explained how he was emotionally abusive to her, to the point where she blames him for many of her mental issues.  She blames him for numerous suicide attempts.  I wondered: if he was so bad, why did her mother and her father let him get away with this?  Why didn’t her father act when she kept trying to kill herself?  We were invited to Myrtle Beach to visit her mother.  Her step-father was notably racist against Indians, so everyone was stressed about how he would act around me.  While he was far from pleasant company (ALL of her family were quite stuck-up around me), he wasn’t bad either.  The visit went fine. 

I did spend some time with her mother.  Her mother, at one point, attempted to become confrontational.  She mentioned my ex-girlfriend with a “don’t try to deny it: I know all about it” line.  I changed the subject, as none of this was her business.  Again, I had a word with Leah about how she was perhaps talking a bit too much about my private life. 

As I had mentioned, Leah was constantly arranging for us to have time without the kids.  This was getting excessive.  My younger son started complaining, and announced to me that, because of this, he wanted to spend more time with his mother.  Once, when Leah wanted to go out to dinner with me (after doing this several times that week), I invited my younger son along.  Leah was actually upset about this! 

During her short-term disability leave, at my pressing, the kids started helping more around the house.  Leah started with physical therapy, but quickly stopped.  Not being at work, she seemed to be feeling better.  She was certainly in a better mood.  Eventually, she had to go back to work.  The week before she was scheduled to go back to work, she checked herself into a mental health clinic.  She said she was hearing voices again, voices telling her to kill my kids and me. 

I visited her at the hospital and met with her father.  I had a request for him: after she is released from the hospital, I needed Leah to stay with him for a while.  I couldn’t let her move back with me until I knew that my kids are safe.  He agreed.  That night, at Leah’s request, I called her mother to tell her what was happening.  Leah’s mother made some interesting remarks.  Leah had only recently told her mother about the abusive ex-boyfriend in Virginia, and her mother found it difficult to believe it.  Leah’s mother also remarked that Leah was being quite unfair in how she spoke of her step-father, basically saying that he didn’t do the things Leah claims.  Leah’s response to this, by the way, was that her mother has a habit of looking the other way with her step-father, and even justifying his actions.  This was something I was able to see later.

I met with Leah, her father, and her step-mother at the hospital one day.  Her father sat quietly as her step-mother started lecturing Leah. First, she detailed almost every mistake Leah had made in her life and every way that Leah had come up short.  Then, she moved on to her agenda: that Leah’s hospitalization was my fault.  My house, according to her step-mother, was unlivable.  My kids and I were lazy and made Leah do all the work.  Leah was miserable at home during her disability.  Where was she getting all of this?  Leah had a beat-down look as her step-mother assaulted her. 

The next day, one of Leah’s therapists called me and said that they would like to set up a meeting, to discuss about when Leah comes home.  This was a trick.  At the meeting, Leah started assaulting me, the way her step-mother assaulted her the previous day.  At one point, she declared that my kids never ever help her with the housework. When I pointed out that they had been helping a great deal the last month or so, Leah declared that this didn’t count because the kids didn’t want to.  At one point, in tears, she demanded I spend even less time with my kids.  She brought up issues with our sex life.  When I turned around her various complaints, the therapist without fail would interrupt me so Leah could move on to the next complaint.  After this meeting, I told Leah: it’s over between us. 

Leah became frantic.  She insisted she didn’t actually believe the things she said, and she didn’t know why she said those things (she even suggested that the therapist manipulated her into saying those things, although oddly enough she never acknowledged that many of the things she said were things her step-mother had said the previous day).  She started playing on my sympathy – at a time like that, she needed my support . . . could I really abandon her at a time like that?  In the end, it worked.  I was cautious, but I let her back into my life. 

I still maintained, though, that she could not move back with me until I had some assurance that we were safe.  Within a week of being released from the hospital, Leah called me in tears.  Her step-mother, it would seem, was getting on her case again.  Leah begged me to let her come back home. 

After she was released, it became clear that Leah’s breakdown had been the result of a jealousy fit because of a female friend in my life.  Leah had decided that this woman was a threat to her, and that was at the core of her erratic behavior.  At one point during this, she wrecked her car.  She bought another used car, but took a loan to pay for that.  Put together: because of her jealousy fit, she spent time without an income (because she had to go to unpaid disability), reducing her ability to contribute to the household.  She had huge hospital bills she needed to repay, reducing her ability to contribute to the household even more.  She had a car loan payment, which reduced her ability to contribute to the household.  And, I had to pay a much higher amount for car insurance.  With her reductions in contributions, my contributions had to increase . . . effectively meaning that I was paying for the bulk of these things.  I found myself feeling resentful: when I agreed to date Leah, my plan was for "a girlfriend", not "a daughter".  Leah said she was sorry and understood that this might annoy me . . . but she never did anything to fix these. 

As for Leah’s jealousy?  This was never resolved.  I had a falling-out with the friend, and that was that.  Ironically, despite her jealousy issues with me, Leah very much enjoyed the company of men.

Leah made a new female friend at her job, and the two became very close.  Her friend was polite to me when the three of us would get together or go out.  One day, Leah revealed that her friend hated me as well.  I found this a bit distressing: why does everyone close to Leah hate me?  I became aware that Leah was calling her parents and complaining/venting every time she and I had an argument.  I told Leah that this was a bad idea – if they hated me at the start, perhaps given them reasons might not be a good idea – but Leah continued.  One thing I found odd about this was that Leah never acted this way with her ex-boyfriends.  She would never mention them to her parents, let alone tell her parents every time they had an argument.  Why was she behaving differently with me?

Her parents' perceptions were clouded by racism.  They looked for anything to justify their hatred of me.  This led to such fascinating twists of logic such as "arguing" being a sign of "an abusive relationship".  I'm sure that for anyone else in the world, they would see things differently.  But, if it gave them a reason to hate me, so be it! 

But what about her friend?  Was she also a racist?  I once explained to Leah that we are an "interracial couple", and that brings out a whole new level of hatred.  More likely, her "hatred" of me stemmed from the things Leah was saying about me . . . and that led to the obvious question of what exactly did Leah think of me.