I have been betrayed.   I was betrayed all along.  I didn't want to look at reality.   My shrink told me that I am grieving. This was just a stage that I was going through, not unusual, part of the process.  I wish someone could just rewire my brain, fix it so I never remembered meeting "A,"  erase all the memories.

In the beginning of it all, I was enthralled.  But as aspects of the relationship began to rear their ugly head, this terrible insecure feeling began to creep up on me.

I was dating an alcoholic.  I thought I could make it go away.  I kept trying for two years.  I was courted with three dozen roses for my birthday, taken to the finest restaurants, I could even invite my closest friends along, I was living like a rock star.  I thought.

Things began to go from fabulous to horrible.  Days would go by and I didn't receive a call. Pills would be missing from my cabinet.  Wine was missing from my cupboards. I could never count on him.

 We were invited to a wedding of a close family friend, who lives in Las Vegas. He agreed to attend.  As time wore on, it became apparent that he had no intention of going.

 I was miserable and disappointed.

Looking back, I remember a comment I got early on when I expressed my need to hear from him, and that I needed him to be there for me.   His response was matter-of-fact: "I am not capable of that."  So why didn't I listen, why did I hang on to false hope?

I decided to go into therapy and I was told to make a list of all the qualities I admire in a man so I did:

  • Loyalty
  • Honesty
  • Integrity
  • Tall
  • Handsome
  • Compassionate
  • Reliable
  • Successful
  • Generous
  • Sense of humor
  • Family oriented

I showed him the list..."none of that is me," was his response.  You think I would have gotten a clue.  I continued to carry on with this man off and on for two years.  I saw the ugly side of things, including the pills (which he insisted were for his attention deficit disorder).  Escorting him to AA meetings, and then having him disappear into thin air- to later find him an empty building- with no excuse. Was he there to pick up pills?  What kind of drugs?  I was numb.  But I was drawn into this web of deception, and would not try to escape.

I pleaded with him to get to the Alcoholic Recovery Center (ARC) to dry out.  He agreed, and I heard nothing from him for three days.  When I did get a call on the 4th day, he was very cavalier about his experience,  He laughed (uncharacteristically) that it was "rough."  Later that night, we argued when he told me that "I cannot live alone, I am getting a roommate through AA".  I thought this was a terrible mistake, that he needed to go into rehabilitation, not get a roommate!

The next day, I went to collect him for church, and there, big as life, sat an attractive, middle-aged woman that  he apparently met at the ARC over the last three day stay, whom he invited to his home!  Stunned, I asked:  "Who are you?" she responded that she was a friend of  "A'"s.

 I was devastated.

 I got to church and just broke down in front of my friend and confidant, our parish priest.  Of course, I was warned time and time again, that this was not the man I should be seeing, that nothing good could come from this.

Seven days passed and I finally received a call from "A."  "I know you met my house guest," he said.  "She will be staying with  me for a few days."  I was mortified.  Later the following week,  I ran into "A" at the gym, he raised his voice when I confronted him (an obvious sign of guilt).  He maintained that this woman was just company, a friend, someone to help him get by and share expenses.  Bull____.   How could someone do something so hurtful?

 I still did not understand that alcoholics only care for themselves.  That they are narcissistic at best, and down right criminal at worst.  They will do anything to advance their cause (to stay high).

I  made one last attempt to help "A" get back into the mainstream; but, no surprise, my efforts failed.   He called me a couple of times, but I never responded.  Fast forward seven months, I got news through an a friend that he and his new beloved (the same friend from the ARC), had a blow up and he was in jail, and she was in the hospital with an emotional breakdown.

A part of me said, great, payback is a bitch! Another part of me prayed for them.  Yet still I ache, it hurts, I still hold onto false hopes.   At this point, I just pray to forget the whole experience.  I still count the months' hoping that by next month I will forget.  But I don't forget.  My mind still replays the good times back to me.  I fight back by telling myself it is over.

If I could just believe that.

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