abuse, addiction, alcoholism, bi-polar, broken heart, crazy, dating, relations, feelings, feelings, life, love, psycho, Psychopath, reality, relations, substance abuse, sugar life, violence

Falling for an Addict

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 – Wrong guys are after me, they keep breaking my heart, I do not know what to do.

 – No honey, you fall for messed up people.

 – You can’t say that, Vixen. You are my friend. – My girlfriend had that enticingly-vulnerable look; huge deer eyes, pale skin, and alluring gestures.

 – You love suffering my dear. Attracting alcoholics, drug addicts, liars, and other mentally sick dudes and losers is your passion. – I had no time for her tearful helplessness that morning. I was busy and ready to go.

 – What shall I do?

 – Go back to work, unless you want to get fired and share the misery of your unemployed dates.

 – I was hoping for your support

 – I love you dear. But I am not supporting your love for freaks and losers.

 – You are cruel, Vixen.

 – Go back to work, honey.

Her mannerism was hypnotic, her appearance was anorexically sex-appealing. She was the magnet for troubled guys, and she enjoyed them. Her classically messed up boyfriends knew how to hug, how to kiss, how to fuck, and how to empathize. Each relationship started with expensive presents, mind-blowing sex, and endless horrid stories of their heart-breaking childhood experiences. Her each date had a perfect excuse for being miserable, misunderstood, discriminated against, unaccepted by the society, and exceptionally vulnerable. She kept being dragged into the bullshit of her boyfriends’ uniqueness, swamped by myriads of reasons for losing money and for their inability to stop mixing anti-depressants with liquor and get their lazy asses back to work.

She loved the feeling of euphoria coming home and seeing her partner sober on the couch watching old French movies or analyzing stock markets. All her dates were intelligent and highly educated. Adding lofty attitudes, alcohol, and psych medications to their ivy-league diplomas and family possessions was very charming to her. She felt mesmerized and ready to fall in love ardently defending the guys’ instability and furiously denying any attempts to get her to common sense.

Her pain of discovering her dates passed out due to overdosing on benzos or alcohol blackouts was very real. She would call 911 and spend sleepless nights in a local emergency room blaming herself for everything. Deep in her heart she would crave for the moment of their hospital discharge. She knew they would come back with buckets of roses, diamond necklaces, and heart-warming words of gratitude: “you are exceptional honey, I feel so lucky I have you, I would have died without you, you have saved my life again”. She loved that, enabling their addiction and the unwillingness to seek professional help.

She suffered a lot blaming them for being unable to keep the job, to maintain sobriety, and to stabilize their manic and depressive episodes. But the pleasures from the “I neither do drugs nor drink, I am way too spiritual/educated/intelligent, blah-blah-blah” lies were much more gratifying than the reality check. Their pretended empathy and awesome sex kept her around adding spice to the toxicity of the relationships.

Once one dude passed away, the other one would show up with a big cock, fake promises, claimed bankruptcies, and fancy gifts.

Being up and down was her way of living. I did not have much patience or compassion for it.

 – Have a good day, honey, – I gave her a hug and left the diner feeling the sadness of her almond-shaped eyes on my back.

 

anxiety, control, crazy, dating, relations, feelings, dominance, fears, feelings, panic, power, psycho, Psychopath, sugar

Perfect Guy

fear

He instigated fear. The contrast between his calm and pleasant demeanor and my feelings of terror every time I saw him was unfathomable. Well-educated, intelligent, nicely smelling, fit, and smiling, he did not look like a fairy tale monster. Nevertheless, his presence brought shivers up and down my spine. My friends thought I was cuckoo, their “girl, you have a screw loose, go and eat something or talk to a therapist” made me guilty. His excessive concern about my wellbeing brought about shame and remorse; he loved, he cared, and I kept rejecting him quietly panicking when he was around.

I could not loudly demonstrate my concerns. He never raised his voice, but I was fearful to answer back and disagree. Once I got brave; I took a deep breath, and looking straight into his eyes, I gasped out “I am afraid of you”. He quietly stood up and went into the kitchen. I heard him using the water and ice dispenser in his refrigerator, he came back three minutes later with a glass of ice-cold orange juice and a sparklingly bleached smile.

You think too much, silly, – he smiled watching me gulp the juice, I felt stupid.

His friends were polite and intelligent as well. They wore comfy cashmere sweaters and designer pants and discussed marketing dynamics and sales strategies. They lived in safe neighborhoods, played golf and went boating on weekends. Their women were skinny, classy, and quiet. No one ever was rude or disrespectful, they smiled, always said hello and goodbye. I always smiled back responding to their greetings and farewells with the same pleasant demeanor, but deep in my heart I knew talking beyond “the dinner is tasty, I have enjoyed your company” was not acceptable.

One day I lost my job and gave him a call; my unemployment did not kick in timely, and I needed help to pay the bills. He did not answer, I left him a voicemail prior going to bed. A loud banging sound woke me up at around midnight. I opened the front door and got hit by December coldness. He was standing on the porch, I could not see his face, but I felt the anger through the freezing darkness.

Are you ok? – I forced a smile and waved him in.

He did not move, he had a bottle in his hand, I got surprised, drinking was not about him, he was into healthy lifestyle and daily exercising.

Are you ok? – I repeated shivering as the coldness was crawling under my PJs.

You disappointed me, – the voice was muffled, I stepped back shuddering at the smell of alcohol. – I wasted all my time with you. You got everything gifts, shoes, cruises, but you want more. Now you decided to quit your job and sponge me off. You are like everyone else.

He kept talking slurring words and getting angrier. I kept standing at the doorstep frozen with fear and ice-cold weather.  Suddenly he punched the wall right next to me, I screamed and rushed inside. The front door slammed behind my back. I heard the screech of his car as he took off.

I brew green tea and took a warm bath prior going to sleep. When he called me the next morning, he was sweetly polite as usual.

You scared me last night, – I was expecting clarification and apology.

I felt used, and I overreacted

– But, I was scared, – I still believed he would dismiss my fears with humor and a fine dining invitation.

You will deal with this my love, when shall we meet again?

 – I need to be by myself.

He kept stopping by with flowers and fruit. Every time I tried to discuss that night I was given Swiss chocolate and new clothes.

Don’t you see, I am afraid of you. – He laughed, gently stroking my hair while switching the TV channels.

My friends kept calling me cuckoo. They were jealous. He was always attentive, courteous, and intelligent, he was smart, well-educated, and as perfect as a smiley guy from my favorite family yogurt commercial. I felt guilty and stupid, I panicked for nothing.

 

affection, bi-polar, broken heart, control, crazy, dating, relations, feelings, disgust, dominance, fears, feelings, happiness, intimacy, life, love, obsession, power, psycho, Psychopath, reality, relations, sex, submission, sugar

Evil Behind the Mask

evil

What does the evil look like? Is it someone leather-faced, smelling like decayed teeth and low-income household?

Dave was handsome, highly educated, and wealthy; warm, smiley and polite.

Intimacy with him felt like heaven, he was gentle, affectionate, and caring. “I hug you, and you smile, one day I will see you smiling all the time. It will make me happy.”  He had a great body, nicely smelling bed-linen, huge master bedroom, and high-quality home sound system.

 – What kind of music does my Vixen want?

 – Can we do Mozart?

 – You need something relaxing, what about meditation music?

 – Ok, – I shrugged my shoulders and went into the bathroom, being intimate with him felt relaxing. Sex was not merely joyful or fun, it was spectacular, phenomenal, magical, fantastic.

 – I need to take you shopping, my Vixen needs new dresses.

 – Maybe next time? I gotta pick up my kid from his daycare.

 – No, we will go now, I will choose, since I am paying. Your facial expression…. It has changed, that’s funny…

He had a great taste, the outfit he bought looked awesome. I was thankful and quiet. He did not want me to speak unless he expected answers to his questions.

Talking makes you anxious, dear, you get into your shitty moods that make you unhappy. I want you happy, this is my goal, princess, to make you happy.

 – Yeah, but I just wanted

 – Shh … silly, – he covered my mouth with his hand, – When I speak, you listen, ok?

Physical closeness was awesome, simply awesome, he was very expressive and emotional; I was touched, I kept breaking into tears, he liked it. – There is nothing wrong about showing your feelings, Vixen. You are certainly allowed to do it around me. You gotta read good books, spiritual literature. It will help you grow and become a better person. You can’t be a sugar baby all your life.

I found Seroquel and an empty Tequila bottle on one of his book shelves behind Luke Rhinehart and Teachings of the Buddha. – I have zero tolerance for alcohol. I can’t be around someone who drinks, Dave.

 – One of my friends left the bottle here, he stopped by yesterday, we meditated.

 – Are you taking anti-psychotic meds with alcohol?

 – I took half a pill, the first time in ten years, I stopped drinking long time ago. You gotta relax and stop your crazy thinking, I feel bad when I see you suffering, luv.

 – Why did you take it?

 – My ex stopped by, she is horrible, the most negative person in the world, she tried to commit suicide several times when we were together. I was anxious all night after that, the pill helped me sleep.

 – I thought it is your ex-girlfriend who tried to kill herself.

 – My ex-wife was also crazy, she is a very miserable person, she needs help. I had back luck with women in the past. You are the angel Vixen, I am blessed to have you in my life.

Sex was mind-blowing, I left his house feeling the happiest person in the world that night. He constantly wanted me around. He paid for my son’s sitter and for the hours I missed work to be with him. – You are working too much, it makes no sense, even my cleaners do better financially, honey. You need to change your career. I do not want my princess to stress twenty-four hours a day. It makes me sad to watch you suffer.   

 – I will end up losing my job if I continue taking time off. I can’t afford it, I need to feed my son.

 – I will take care of you both. Trust me, you will never be homeless and hungry.

 – I can take vacation later, maybe a couple of months from now?

 – Now, – suddenly his smile froze, – I will take care of everything:  flights, hotels, food, shopping… I want you to start packing now. Your son can go with us, I love kids.

 – I can’t.

 – Yes, you can, – he grabbed me by the shoulders and started shaking. My head hit the cupboard door. I screamed, he quickly released the grip and gave me a hug. – Are you ok my dear?

I saw blood on the light-wood cupboard door and concern in his dark eyes as he was gently checking my head.– Just a tiny scratch, nothing serious, love.

 – I may need to see a doctor. I hit my temple.    

 – They will rip you off and do nothing. I owned several medical practices, people there are morons. You should not trust them. I will take care of you.

 – I need to go.

 – You need to stop talking now. – The sudden change in his voice was frightening.

That afternoon was the first time I did not leave his house mesmerized by his charm and the way he used his penis. The evil was there caring and smiling, carefully drying my skin with a soft towel after a bath and holding hands while sleeping. The evil was there, slowly but surely cuffing me to the 2-million dollar home with substance abuse and mental health issues. The evil was there gently destroying the identity through manipulation and control slowly leading others to suicidal ideation. The evil had the face of an upper class guy with refined manners, hard cock, and fat banking accounts.

It took time to finally see the dirty truth inside the fancy packaging box.

anxiety, bi-polar, crazy, fears, feelings, panic, Psychopath

Psychopath, Rick and his House

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Rick invited us, are you coming? – Heather’s phone call woke me up 7 am.

 – Really? –  The last time I saw him ended up in my running away from his place panicking that he will hurt me.  – He is dangerous, I am not coming.

 – He is not dangerous, Vixen, – her laughter was bright and loud, my morning sleepiness vanished instantly. – He is a very nice guy. Actually, he keeps asking me about you all the time.

The image of that door mercilessly ripped apart flashed before my eyes. I shuddered under the blanket.   – I am not coming, Heather, he is nuts.

 – Do you want him to give you a call and personally invite you?

 – Are you kidding me?

 – He is throwing a house party. Everyone will be there including your Greg and Emy.

 – That night in Jacksonville he was not nice at all, he called me a slut and….

 – And who are you? A princess?

 – I am ending the call now…

 – Wait, – her voice slowed down and got softer as she proceeded, – I was just messing with you, Vixen. He wants to see you, he still does not understand why you ran away that night in Jacksonville.

 – Why can’t he call and invite me than? Why do it through someone else? – that guy made me seriously nervous, the morning obviously did not start the way I wanted.

 – Easy Vixen, you are being paranoid, it is just a party with a bunch of boring professionals and their wives like Greg and his Emy.

 – Where? – the thought about seeing Greg quickly change my mind; my heart started pounding; the man of my dreams, my Mister Perfect, the most wonderful person on this planet.

 – At his house in Boca Raton, I will pick you up at 9.       

 As we arrived, Rick gave me a broad smile, a warm hug, and a pleasant attitude.  – You have no idea how happy I am so see you again, my love, – redundantly hospitable demeanor and excessively bleached teeth – I have missed you a lot since you disappeared that night, – dark eyes and showy sincerity.  – She – he nodded in the direction of Heather, surrounded by the guests and giving it-is-a-pleasure-to-see-you-again hugs and cheek kisses – she promised to have you stop by, glad you did,  – he squeezed my shoulders – I shivered. The grip was heavy, his hands were firm and cold.

We kept staring at each other; I was trying to get through the softness of his words to the pit of his psychopathy. His blood-freezing “you are very averagely looking and anorexic. Bye slut” as I was leaving his place that night was still in my ears, the badly damaged door was still before my eyes. His warmth and intelligent politeness did not match the Rick I was scared to death in Jacksonville.

He bent forward, I felt the smell of menthol tooth paste as he was hoarsely breathing out “I really, really, really missed you” in my ear. His hands moved lower, and cupped my butt, I turned around in panic. His guests were having fun, Heather kept flirting and drinking, guys kept laughing, their wives kept gossiping giving her quick and spiteful looks. Huge living-room area, high ceiling, and repetitively nagging “how are you, how are you, how are you” added to my sadness that no one really cares, and no one will actually notice if he causes me pain.

I slowly stepped away releasing his grip with a polite smile. Coming here was a bad idea, the cocktail party, the presence of Heather, Greg, and Emy, other people, everything seemed to be an illusion, Rick felt real though, real and dangerous. I was lonely, invisible, and unsafe in his house.

 – This looks scary, – I pointed my finger at the indoor balcony, loudly talking to myself, no one hears, no one bothers, Rick’s obnoxiousness got me angry and helpless. – The balcony looks very dangerous.

The living-room got suddenly very quiet. I could literally hear the crackling fireplace sounds, and the wind howling from the pool patio. The guests’ glances were cautiously curious and weirdly intense. Heather loud cough as she choked on her water was the perfect excuse to follow her to the bathroom.

 – You are nuts, Vixen, what are you doing? – she got furious as soon as the bathroom door closed behind us.

 – What did I do wrong? – I knew something happened, I could feel it through my skin, through each cell of my body.

 – Don’t you know his daughter fell off the balcony and died? – she was spitting the words into my face, nervously brushing her hair.

 – I did not know, what happened?

 – She got drunk, heavily intoxicated, and fell to the death two years ago in this house, – her words were loud and merciless, I felt dizzy.

 – I did not know.

 – You should not have said that.

I got out of the bathroom and hurried to leave the house feeling everyone’s stares through the strapless dress. Rick’s voice paralyzed me for a moment as I was opening the heavy front door.

 – Why are you leaving?

 – I do not think it is appropriate for me to stay in this house any longer, Rick.

 – Why? – he grabbed my shoulders again, trying to meet my eyes. – Please stay, I will knock you up, and we will have a baby girl. Every woman wants a kid from me, you will get paid.

 – Let’s survive the party first, – this guy was nuts, he needed help big time.

The next morning, I woke up with big bruises on my both shoulders and on my butt, I was sore and angry. Heather did not respond to my phone calls, I deleted Rick’s “thinking about you all the time” from my IPhone and started getting ready for work.