sometimes, it never goes away.
I guess this is the time for my brain to revisit boyfriends past.
Honestly, usually once they are past, I don't usually give them much thought, they are PAST for a reason.
But somethings, just don't fade.
Up until a bit over three years ago, I had never had a boyfriend who scared me. Sure, I had a few end bad, with modicums of animosity, but, I was never scared.
Thus, I am sure I was fairly naive about that, uh, aspect.
I will actually call him out by name, because, frankly, he's not smart enough to find my blog, and if he did, well, more power to him. He may scare me, but he won't limit me.
Anyhow. His name was Jeff. Commonly referred to now as "The Village Drunk". (I have also dated The Village Idiot.)
I knew, when I met him, that he was probably going to be a problem. On our first date, he drank a lot of beer, then, came to my apartment, and drank more.
Still, he had personality, he had a job, and at the time he seemed well, stable. Oh, how little I knew.
Within short order he lost his apartment, and went to live with family, about 3 hours away from where I was. I tend to give people the benefit of the doubt, and so I did, and, he'd come up here every weekend, and usually end up passed out on my couch each night. More of his stuff showed up in my apartment, including a fax machine where he got work orders. After about a month of this, bottles of Jack Daniels started showing up, too. And disappearing as quickly as they showed up.
Then, we started having to go out only to places that served hard liquor. I found myself drinking more than I had in a long time. And it did not feel good. I wasn't happy. I recognized my own drinking was increasing, and cut myself off. He didn't care, at this point I was a pretty handy designated driver for him.
He was so drunk on Thanksgiving, around my FAMILY that he went out to his van and passed out. I was super embarrassed. I was searching for the person that I thought he was. I KNEW I wasn't going to change him. The "relationship" was surprisingly platonic, (booze is a serious mood killer, at least booze in excess is...) for which I am forever grateful. He does not have intimate knowledge of me.
It blew up badly, while he was drunk (no surprise) and involved him getting behind the wheel and ME threatening to call the cops if he did. Cell phone in hand. I had to work that night, and went to work shook up, but resolute. He slept his drunk off in my apartment, then left. I never saw him again.
But I heard from him. He had a fun time, calling my phone, both cell and land line, threatening me, telling me I needed anger management classes, and wanting his stuff. One night, while I as at work, he called my phone, every 15 minutes, for over 6 hours. I bet my neighbors were thrilled. I changed my numbers, changed my locks, and put all his stuff out on my stoop for his collection. That REALLY pissed him off, let me tell you. That, and the fact that I refused to go have dinner with him after he picked it up.
"We could have been friends" he said.
"Not on your life" I thought, glad I had changed the locks.
Because of the nature of his threats, I looked over my shoulder for weeks. He knew where I lived, where I worked, and what I drove. I knew what he drove. A windowless, beat up white work van. Every time I saw one, it scared me. I envisioned a drunk Jeff, carrying out his threats. I saw a white van at work one evening and got so scared I called in for security to walk me in.
I gradually got over that. I met MM a year later, and, well, things have obviously progressed. I've moved, I drive a different car, I have a different (and much happier) life. I occasionally reference Jeff, especially to show Monkey Girl that we don't settle for unstable men. We don't accept this kind of behavior. But I never really sit and think about it.
Unless a dirty white work van shows up in my rear view mirror.
And a part of me still thinks
Did he find me?