“I have strong feelings when I’m around you. We sat on the couch and Art moved close to me and said, “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you but I don’t know how to say it.” That decision was made one evening when he had come over to my place. He moved into my apartment, which I previously vowed would never happen. Art was making an initial investment, expecting a long term return.Īfter that I gave him my heart and soul. It was the only time I remembered him doing such a thing. Without hesitation I accepted and one warm evening we went out to a romantic restaurant with candle light and Chopin. But he said, “Call me Art.”Īrt played a cat and mouse game and after several mornings of subtle seductions he asked me out. He introduced himself as Arthur James Rothmore the Third, which sounded regal. I took that to mean he was financially self-sufficient, not that he independently lived off single women. “At the land title office down the street.” Why was I telling this to a perfect stranger? “How about you?”Īs smooth as silk he said, “I’m independent.” “I see you like coffee.” It was a simple innocent comment from him, nothing devious, nothing threatening. And he approached me when I went to the area where you get milk, sugar and napkins. As soon as I paid for my coffee he got up from his chair. When I smiled back he didn’t hesitate to make his move. Needless to say he was cute and my heart fluttered. Exceptional warmth was communicated through the fine features of his face, the bright blue eyes and perfect smile. Then one morning he smiled when our eyes met. A woman likes to be noticed, even admired. His eyes would glance and look away, sweet mischief at play.Įventually I became interested, a welcome flirt at the beginning of the day. Did he see me as a target, a vulnerable mark?Įvery morning I went to the coffee shop to get a cup of coffee to take to work and for five days in a row he was sitting at a table close to the entrance. Those first days his eyes had been like scopes tracking a prey. In looking back I realize he had this strange fixation on me. But now I’m wondering if it was chance or something cold and calculated? We first met in a coffee shop, a chance meeting. Our relationship had been five months of torment and wasted time, a painful series of breakups and reconciliations. It probably can, but this wasn’t real love. I foolishly believed love could conquer all. It had been broken, yet I still longed for him. I knew he was a lying cheat, but my heart was somewhere else. I walked to the door and looked out at darkness, feeling emptiness that went beyond the silence of the night. It's because women try to please beyond all reason and that's what I was doing. Promises weren’t kept and I was living a lie. But worst of all was the emotional abuse, a constant manipulation of my thoughts and feelings. In my case we weren’t married but it was all of the above, drinking, temper tantrums, he hit me once and there were two known cases of cheating. I won’t drink anymore, yell at you anymore, beat you anymore, cheat on you anymore. But my mind told me this was the battered wife syndrome, women believing empty promises. I waited a minute, my emotions half hoping he would return. He broke it once before but this time was different, an insult that I was forced to close it after him. He stormed out the door and I expected it to slam.
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