LGTBQ and You

 This entry will be geared primarily toward the fine folks who lean hard to the right.  Its genesis, however, was my own reflection on the topic.  Because this is a quick and dirty one, don't look for a ton of stats; just logic and common sense.

First, let's talk about why folks are LGTBQ.  The brain is an incredibly complex organ that we still don't completely understand all of its intricacies.  While our DNA plays a role in our physical attributes, most innate behaviors are simply hard wired into our brains.  The majority of our population is wired to be attracted to the opposite sex; makes sense for the whole procreation thing.  However, for just under 10%, their wiring tells them to be attracted to the same sex as they are.  In roughly 1.5% of the population, their wiring tells them they're the opposite sex from the one they were born.  These traits are present from birth and don't just pop up at majority.  

It's really not any more complicated than that.  There are some people with anatomy that's different than their brain says they are.  

What being LGTNQ isn't:
- A sickness:  no matter what the hillbillies in the Midwest claim, you can't teach someone to no longer be gay.  That's called torture.  Again, the whole hardwiring thing.

- A choice:  Folks in the LGTBQ community suffer physical and verbal abuse, are discriminated against, and generally ostracized from society.  Many torture themselves trying to be "not gay" to fit in, but hardwiring... I assure you, no one voluntarily chooses to put themselves through that hell.  

- Grooming straight kids to be LGTBQ:  Honestly, this is one of the dumbest myths going about the community.  It isn't a club that needs new members, people!  For the really dense who believe the myth about recruiting kids because gay couples can't procreate, you may have heard about this thing called adoption.  You know, for all the unwanted babies being born because the mothers were forced to bring them to term?

- Different than straight people:  For the most part, these folks want the same things as straight people.  They want to love someone and be loved back; you know, happiness shit.  

- Pedophiles:  Every legitimate study I found online said the same thing, which is 80% of pedophiles are (supposedly) straight men, leaving the 20% remainder of bisexual and homosexual men.  Don't get me started on clergy, because that's well documented.  As I've said before, I'd consider my kids to be safer with two men in drag than with a clergyman.  

Readers should note the numerous times I've mentioned children, because that's important.  As I mentioned before, gay adults began life as gay children, who go through hell growing up.  

What that means is this:

- Gay and lesbian youth are almost four times as likely to commit suicide than their straight counterparts

- Trans youth are almost six times more likely!!!*

That's what we're doing to our children.  Those who are closed minded and full of hate, give it a rest on the whole "that's a guy in women's clothing".  If that person's brain says they're a woman and she wants to live her life as a woman, let the woman be who she is, and hope for her to find her place.  She's gone through more hell than you, most likely.

For those who continually harp on how they want to protect our children, here's your opportunity to put your money where your mouth is and not be a hypocrite.  

I get it; there's an "eww" factor.  Watching gay men kiss continues to be on the icky side for me as well.  Growing up in a rural environment, I saw the LGTBQ community (they didn't have a name then) as freaks.  But then something happened to me; I grew the fuck up.

No one's asking for you to be enthusiastic with your acceptance.  Only to not hate those who want the same thing as you, but aren't the same as you.

*per JAMA published study

Other helpful studies have been linked below.

Studies on subject

Gang Bang Queen - The Final Chapter

I'm almost embarrassed to admit that it took a couple of days to stop smarting over the recent GBQ encounter.  But I'd challenge anyone to not be shocked, taken back, etc. under the same circumstances.  The cherry on the top was, according to trick's review, she displayed more skill at certain things than she had with me.  Either that or he was inexperienced.  Or maybe she only brings her A game when she's getting paid.  I've finally been able to identify what bothered me the most / the actual emotional equivalence.  I think we all have former lovers / partners / etc. who I'll categorize as "not completely eliminated, just bad circumstances"; those who were the stars to realign, we'd entertain seeing again. They live in the back of our minds as potentially unfinished business.  However, there are rare completely disqualifying 'things', that can rip them right out of the category.  When that happens, it almost feels as though that person dies.  That's how it felt when GBQ informed me she was escorting again.  You don't recover from hooking, at least for me.  Regardless, the incident flared the fuck out of my intimacy issues.

For what it's worth, I don't think the move was to intentionally hurt me; more of a completely thoughtless way of saying "hey, look what I'm doing".  It almost felt as though she were proud of returning to sucking dick for a living, which is really quite fucked up.  For the record, I consider sex work to be actual work and I know there are those who enjoy it.  However, to leave a decent paying job to return to sex work is a different ballgame.

In reality, it felt as though she'd reached out because she lacked any real support structure in her life.  However, the more she said, the more it began to feel like a pity party.  She indicated she was done with actual relationships and made comments to the effect that she was where she belonged (I'm not sure if she meant Scotland or on her knees; maybe both.)  She didn't like the US, because of the gun violence and mass shootings.  Because her fiancé blew his brains out five years ago she continues to be triggered by anything gun related.  She said she was working to get past that, when we were dating, so it felt like she was just piling on the pity.  It would be cruel to take the position that she's not allowed to feel traumatized, but she didn't witness him do it and it's clear she's not sought any professional help to get past it.  

She was in full swing about how horrible her life was when I chimed in about her complete absence of  contrition for ghosting me, then a year later, hitting me in the face with her little hooker excursion.  As I previously mentioned, that's when she disengaged.  Fuck, she didn't so much as throw a bit of perfunctory sentiment of being sorry.  Definitely not a hooker with a heart of gold.  If I'm ever that self-absorbed, someone shoot me.

At the end, I just wanted to virtually grab her by the collar and give her the speech.  You're fifty one years old and left a decent paying job to be a fucking hooker.  Beyond sucking dick (which you didn't do that well), you have no transferrable skills that would allow you to stay in Europe and make a living.  It's time to grow the fuck up and face your challenges.  You can either seek help or be a sniveling little bitch, being triggered by everything.  And no, it's not easy being single at this stage in life; it can be traumatizing.  But how many decent men are going to want to be with a woman with a pattern of being a hooker when things get tough?  I sure as hell wouldn't date you again.  Pull your shit together and grow the fuck up.

As a final funny point (as in fucked up, not humorous), I found her online hooker ad, which lists all the services she offers and sure enough, she's available for gang bangs.  Here's the link, if you're so inclined.  (btw, she's about doubled in weight since I last saw her)

Gang Bang Queen for Hire

As of today, she only has one review and her calendar seems to be wide open.  Not much of a whore...

p.s. - I realize my tone is a bit cold on this entry, but I'm out of fucks to give for people who won't grow the fuck up.

When Guns Aren't Such a Good Idea

 Despite our relationships being destroyed by manipulation from their borderline mother, I still feel some emotional attachment to my former step kids (see previous post Down in Flames II).  Rather than subjecting myself to the ultimate vulnerability of reaching out to them, I sort of keep an eye from afar.  In today's society, that means occasionally popping by their social media accounts.

The one of note today comes from my former stepdaughter, who posted to see if anyone knew someone who could sponsor her for membership in a gun club, back in Pennsylvania (where I lived until separating from her mother).  My initial thought was that I could drop a quick email to one of my old shooting compatriots and get her sponsored into the club to which I previously belonged.  The idea of helping her brought a bit of joy, for the brief moment until I realized how much of a mistake that would be.  If you've read the Down in Flames entry, you know that my dawter has become a borderline, just like her mudda.  Those who are unable to regulate their emotions and occasionally wander into sociopathic waters probably aren't what I would consider responsible gun owners.

So, I remained silent and silently wished her well.

Marriage Number Four Down in Flames!

For those who've muddled through my previous entries, you're aware of how my ex-wife is the gift that gave and has kept on giving.  From the manipulation, to the throwing of the ham, to the hell she put me through in our divorce, marrying hubby number four, and the piece de resistance, becoming a wedding officiant.  I thought that she was done, hoped she was done because I genuinely hold no ill will toward her and want her to be happy, because she's got more than her fair share of demons to contend with.  But I was optimistic because she and Number Four have been together for ten years, a new record for her.  I thought of her the other day and wondered if she'd finally gotten it together.

Then today, my father called to inform me that Number Four's mother reached out to him.  Apparently, the marriage is on its last leg and circling the drain, and NF wanted to know what divorce attorney I'd used.  I can only speculate that my ex complained about how much of a bastard the guy was, hence his desire to go with the same formula.  My attorney has no love lost for my ex, partially because she was trash talking him to his (unbeknownst to her) daughter at a cocktail party.  Oops...  Maybe he'll offer a discount; she is a repeat defendant after all.

I feel for the guy, because everyone who knows him has nothing but praise for how kind and goodhearted he is.  But as I've noted before, you have to be pretty naive and more than a little dense to sign up to be Number Four in the first place.  Poor guy is about to enter a living hell, when he asks for a divorce and no one deserves that.  I'm hoping to connect with him before he pulls the trigger, so he can at least be a little prepared for the firestorm that's about to engulf him.


All part of life's rich pageant, my friends.  Thankfully, I'm not on the stage as one of the players, this time.

Thanks For The Laugh

For those who've read a good chunk of my blog, it's understandable that I don't have much reason to be thankful to my borderline ex-wife, beyond being incredibly grateful to have gotten away from her.  However, a friend sent me a link to her latest side venture.  She's become a wedding officiant.  For those who don't know (I didn't), an officiant, according to Wikipedia (yes, I got lazy on this one) is:

Secular officiants include civil celebrants, Humanist Society–appointed officiants, Justices of the Peace, marriage commissioners, notaries, and other persons empowered by law to perform legal marriage ceremonies. 

I'll remind my readers that I was husband number three and that she's gone on to marry number four.

The punchline to this entry can be found in the first sentence of her little bio.

I'll just leave it there.

Satisficing In Your Relationship

If you're in a relationship that's less than a few years old, I want you to take a look at your significant other and ask yourself what attributes he or she possesses that made you partner with them.  Being  honest with yourself, is one of them that he or she is safe?  Is one of the most appealing features of your partner that you know they won't leave you?  If so, are you living a fulfilling a relationship or are you satisficing?

Satisficing is a decision-making strategy that aims for a satisfactory or adequate result, rather than the optimal solution.  In other words, 'so long as he's stable and won't leave me, I'll partner with him.'

Don't get me wrong, security is important in a relationship; after all, none of us would eagerly partner with someone you knew would likely run like hell, when some heavy lifting was required.  But what do we sacrifice for that security?

As usual, I'll share some of my own experiences to illuminate the dynamics of dating for safety.  We'll start with my ex-wife, who I've written about before.  After I ended the marriage, she immediately jumped into the dating pool and coupled with a guy who clearly exhibited safety.  Before going any further, I'll refresh my readers on my wife's attributes that are salient to this topic, which were that she was very attractive and skilled at manipulation.  As a result, she could have had a wide choice of men.  The one she chose was mostly unemployed (he has a graphics business with no website) and demonstrated no indication of a backbone, the times our paths crossed.  My intent isn't to insult him, rather than stating facts.  She was the one in charge and was obviously the hottest piece of ass this guy had ever gotten his hands on.  In summary, this guy wasn't going anywhere; he was eminently safe.  As evidence, they've been together for over ten years, which is longer than any of her previous relationships.

I'd also previously referenced my next example, which is a woman who left me before I could leave her.  She latched the fuck onto the next guy she dated and wound up marrying him.  In her case, because we remained friends for a bit, I am well aware of the sacrifices she made.  Again, it was obvious this woman was the hottest thing he'd ever dated and was obviously not going anywhere.  She would complain to me how the guy was a mess, from the divorce he was going through, and was the stereotypical dull dude.   How uncultured he was and that he was a raging homebody (she was the opposite).  He had four of his own kids, where she had two.  Again, no insult intended, but her resentment for her own children lived just below the surface, yet she signed up for a full boat Brady Bunch?  He was gainfully employed, however. 

The one attribute these men shared was their commitment.  'Til death do us part, even if you're the cause of my imminent demise.' 

This would be all well and fine if one could accurately identify the safe ones.  In my experience, the ones who we perceive as having no better options to be the safest.  Except that's not the case.  I'll speak for men, because I am men.  You give some poor shlub an amazing, gorgeous woman who's a rock star in the sack, and he may very well begin believing he can attract other women out of his league.  Mr. Safety isn't quite as safe as you thought.  Of course, he'll realize that's not the case and come crawling back, but that's another topic.

So, look at your significant other again and ask yourself if you're satisficing.

The Insightful Bachelor Joins The Klan

Sunday morning in the flat lands and I'm waking up alone again.  This is noteworthy because I had two women eager and willing for me to do very bad things to them, this weekend, and I bailed on both.  Each brought her own brand of lunacy to the table, and since they dropped in at the same time, I thought I'd share.  

The first woman was a previous float in my parade of loons.  We had traded notes a few months back, but not met.  She was the first woman who had 'scheduled' a sexting session.  Seriously, she told me that we would sext that evening and at the appointed time, began sending x-rated pictures and videos.  Perhaps I'm different from most guys, but I need a bit of warming up before such a stream of material excites me.  In any case, before I wander too far into the details, I blew her off because she was an oddball.  She was oddly self-absorbed and shared way too many details of her dysfunctional past with me.  Because she fancied herself as a writer, those details came in the form of epic length emails.  Ask her what time it was and she'd share interminable thoughts on time itself, as well as how it impacted her previous struggles with mental illness.  

This woman reappeared and wanted me to afford her another opportunity to date.  Having suffered her bullshit before, I told her I needed a fuck toy and she would come over Saturday (last) night to provide that service.  She readily agreed and the epic notes returned.  Fuck, I forgot what a whack job she was.  It was actually something relatively minor that caused her to be kicked to the curb again.  In the midst of the painfully long emails, she made the comment 'your such a good guy', or something to that effect.  I won't date a woman if her profile has that error and this woman constantly pats herself on the back for being an extraordinary writer.  Yet, she still can't get 'your' and 'you're' straight.  Granted, I would have finally skipped the encounter anyway, to escape the constant garbage coming from her mouth, not to mention, she had the strong aroma of a stalker, but the end result was the same.

The other woman, in some ways, was even more fucked up than the first one.  Like the first, she was smart, educated, and had something to say.  It didn't hurt she was gorgeous as well.  I'll also mention she was black; be very clear I have no feelings, one way or another, about dating a black woman; I'm mentioning it because it'll be important later.  Sandi was an interesting girl, in that she worked like crazy to maintain her tough, outer shell.  She also seemed to enjoy keeping me on my toes.  For those reasons, I took some of her demands with a grain of salt.  But she made demands that, in my mind, had her straddling the fence between high maintenance and manipulative.  For example, when we planned to talk on the phone for the first time, she got angry I wouldn't share my number as soon as the plans were made, even though we wouldn't be speaking for several hours.  

There were other things that rang some bells, such as her way of engaging her fwb's.  I'll stop for a moment and state that one of the other things I appreciated about Sandi was her sex drive and level of perversity similar to mine.  Back to her fwb's, she would fuck them, but refused to kiss them.  This, she told me, was in order to compartmentalize feelings versus sexual pleasure.  I found this to be rather odd, because I've kissed every one of my fwb's and they've eagerly reciprocated.  She also made it clear she was no one's sub; in fact, she told me I would be her's.  Also, she enjoyed having a man go down on her, but hadn't experienced that in years, due to the vulnerability involved in receiving oral.

We had planned to get together last night, but talked every evening this past week, almost always enjoying some phone dirtiness before hanging up.  Sometimes, the phone sex was the main event.  She slowly opened up to me and began to realize that I really wasn't just interested in fucking her.  That trust allowed her to share her deepest, darkest sexual fantasy with me.  I've done some very naughty, dirty things sexually, but what she shared shocked even me.  I was to secure a Klan robe / hood and put her in her place, treat her like a possession, rough her up / choke her, and degrade her without mercy.  I sort of said 'youwantmetodowhatnow?'  I find the Klan to be the worst of those with whom I share the planet and to have a strong, black woman want to bring them into the bedroom absolutely floored me.  It would have been difficult for me to put on a set of Klan robes.  That being said, within certain boundaries (i.e. no other species, football teams, scat, etc.) I'll do what it takes to take my partner to new levels of sexual pleasure.  So, that was the role play for that night's phone fun.  

But the demands / manipulation continued to where we'd talk in circles for an hour about the same topic, only to land back where we started; what was objectionable 30 minutes ago was suddenly a perfect idea.  The straw that broke it for me was she told me she wanted to hear me tell her I loved her.  (I'll remind readers I'd not met this woman)  Naturally, I told her that wouldn't happen for a bit, because, well, I'm emotionally healthy.  This hurt her feelings quite a bit.  She backpedaled to explain it was a sexual fantasy, although I knew she was full of shit.  Our last exchange of the night involved her demand for a certain dirty picture (btw, she's only the second woman I've encountered who likes dick pics).  I teased her and asked if she thought she deserved the picture.  'So much for making me happy.'  That was it; no dirty sex is worth the borderline tantrums and manipulation.  So, I woke up yesterday morning and called off our date.  

I've resisted the temptation to 'diagnose' this woman, although it's clear there are some serious intimacy issues present.  I'm just happy to have not had her over, because she also smelled of 'stalker'.

Those are the most recent women I've interacted with, beyond a note or two.  There have been a number of women who seem unable to hold a conversation, but that's a constant background noise.    

In closing, I will mention that finding KKK robes and hoods is pretty much impossible.  Neither Amazon nor eBay list them, and if those two don't offer something, it's likely not available to buy.  There's my tidbit of knowledge for the week.

Happy dating, readers.         

The Hits Just Keep Coming

Well, I seem to have stumbled across another potential loon this past week.

We connected per the normal course of events and seemed to have a connection, so we met last Saturday for dinner, and a good time was had by all.  There wasn't much not to like about B; she was smart, well read, funny, hot as hell, great in the sack, and had the most delicious pair of legs I've seen in some time.  The connection appeared to be pretty great, so we began spending a lot of time together (almost every night).  About mid-week, I became cognizant we were rushing headlong into becoming a couple at rapid pace, which is rarely a good thing.  As a result, my already highly sensitive nut case snooper went on full alert.

At that point, it dawned on me that we didn't have a huge amount in common except our mutual admiration.  Our lack of commonality didn't escape me on the front end, but the new open TIB said to let it slide.  After all, I was enjoying the companionship.

Yesterday, the craziness revealed itself in spades.  I'll spare you the minute details, but here are the high points.  This weekend, we were baking Christmas cookies; next weekend, we'd planned to see the Nutcracker.  I'm the furthest thing from a ballet fan, but she really wanted to see it; happy relationships involve trade offs.  In order to be able to enjoy this weekend together, I skipped the company holiday party yesterday; otherwise I'd have had to work this weekend.  I also asked to skip the Friday night sleepover at her house because all the time we'd been spending together had prevented me from working out and keeping up the house.  Plus, I needed to stock up on the basic building blocks for cookies (i.e. sugar, butter, eggs, etc.) and wasn't going anywhere near a Target or Wally World on a Saturday morning two weeks before Christmas.

Her email to me came before I sent my email saying I needed to skip Friday night.  In her's she asked if we could see the ballet this weekend instead of next; her son was coming into town next weekend.  I responded that I'd been looking forward to a quiet weekend and that the stress / events at work (where I was writing from) had made me hypersensitive to others changing my plans for me, but I knew how important seeing the show was to her, so we'd go this weekend.  That I'm sure we'd have a great time.

And out came the crazy.  In her next email, she shared her disappointment over not seeing me last night, having to skip the ballet (because 'no one should ever be forced to see the ballet against their will'), and one other thing having to do with cookie baking that would take longer to explain than the payoff would be worth.  In reality, I hadn't asked her to sacrifice anything but last night's visit.  She didn't attempt to ameliorate her comments by adding 'but I understand' or 'we'll make it work'.  Just outlining the sacrifices she was making because of me.  Initially, her note frustrated me because she was complaining about having to sacrifice two things she in fact, didn't have to.  I thought she either possessed abysmal reading comprehension skills (not likely, as she's a teacher) or something much worse.  She also made a comments to the effect that I was making it sound like all the work was falling on my shoulders and that I needed to put more effort into transitioning from 'single to not single'.

As a reminder, we'd had our first date the previous Saturday, less than a week ago!  In any case, the more I mulled over her email, the more I began to smell something I hadn't experienced in quite awhile.  The slight hint of the relationship being paramount, combined with the heady notes of 'you're not living up to your end of things', finished with the sweetness of facts taking a back seat to getting a point across.  Wait, I remember that smell from when I was married!  It's called MANIPULATION!!!  Seriously, that email, combined with her response to my metaphorically sending a photo of me running away, slamming me for my lack of commitment (to someone I'd been dating for less than a week!), was incredibly similar to how my borderline ex-wife communicated with me. From manipulating facts to make me feel bad about how I wasn't being a good partner to slamming me for not living up to my commitment (at least my wife could point to a commitment I'd made), her communication had it all.  Each little bit of manipulation crafted to further bind the receiver to the one who created it.  You feel as though you're not 'doing your part' in the relationship, so you work harder, which actually means further supplicating to your nutsville partner's ideas of how a relationship should function.

Not knowing her for even a week, it would be flat out dumb for me to insinuate that B was a borderline (although B is for Borderline).  But she certainly exhibited quite a few borderline traits, many of which I've not even mentioned.  What I can say with absolute certainty is that I dodged a bullet by making like Usain Bolt and sprinting to safety.

And so, it appears this Christmas will be solo, stuck in the hell that is Kansas.  Although, I'm still thinking cookie baking should remain on the weekend's agenda, because cookies.

How do you plan to spend the holidays?

Confessions of a Former Womanizer

Yes, I'm the former womanizer and have just opened myself up to the scorn of my female readers.
If you’ve read my previous posts, I like to remain as close to bulletproof as possible, so why the hell would I expose myself in this way?   I read a blog post, earlier today, written by a woman who had a man romance her, then sleep with her, and then bolt.  She was genuinely confused and hurt over what took place.  I wanted to share one potential reason why men act in this manner, from the perspective of someone who knows exactly what goes on in the jerk’s mind.  To reinforce what many women already know (but still get bruised), which is – When a guy bolts like this, it almost never is the result of shortcomings he sees in you, rather it’s driven by those he sees in himself.

What follows are my own personal experiences and rather raw admissions, as well as some of what I found, when I did some research a few years ago. I’m not a trained mental health professional; this post is not intended to diagnose, treat, blah blah blah.

Also, this post is not meant to excuse the behavior.  I know I hurt a number of women and for that, I’m ashamed.

On with the story - There was a period of time, after I separated from my wife, where I slept with a quite a number of women. It was the same pattern over and over. Seduce them, sleep with them once or maybe twice, and then bail, often leaving them hurt. Yep, that’s what a womanizer does. And you’re probably thinking I was reveling in boosting my body count and feeling like a stud. The truth is it left me ashamed and feeling like a complete loser.  I can’t speak for all men, but if you’re somewhat skilled at luring a woman into your bed, at some point, you don’t care about augmenting your body count.  I know I didn’t.   My goal wasn't to sleep with a bunch of random women, then leave them. What I wanted was to have a genuine loving relationship.  So, what was keeping me bed hopping?

Some background for you, before I go any further. Those who’ve read my other posts know I was married to a woman with borderline personality disorder. If you’re not familiar with the condition, take a moment to look it up or read about my experience. Go ahead; I’ll wait. The short version, in the context of this entry, is that borderlines will manipulate you, lie to you, gaslight you, exploit your vulnerabilities, and generally make you feel worthless. Yeah, it sucked and left me with a completely demolished sense of self-esteem and an unhealthy fear of intimacy.

When I left her and got back into the dating world, it was scary as hell. My marriage taught me that being vulnerable to someone was to be avoided at all costs. Vulnerability=Pain=Bad  Yet, I knew that a genuine, solid relationship requires vulnerability to your partner. The result was this insane tug of war inside my head, which was depressing on a high order. I ultimately became an alligator and one of the whackjobs I harp on.

So, what the fuck was going through my head that would cause me to bolt? There were a few different lines of thought that popped into my head, depending on the situation. But they all centered on a common theme that shouldn’t surprise anyone:  ‘she’s going to figure out how much of a loser I am; I’d better run before she does and hurts me.’

Others were variations on this theme.

‘How am I going to follow this up?’ – It’s easy to capture someone’s attention and entice them toward you. As bad as this sounds, it tends to be a formula. Share this story, flirt this way, show how you’re confident with this anecdote, that you’re warm and caring with another, flirt some more. But, no surprise, you lead with your best material, then panic because you think you don’t have anything left to hold her attention, once you’ve captured it. Of course, that’s bullshit, because women want you to be yourself and not put on a show, once they’ve decided to ‘let you in’. But don’t try to convince your subconscious of that.

The Maverick / ‘No, it’s no good.’ – The movie, Top Gun, is full of valuable life lessons for just about any situation. In this case, if you remember when Maverick got back in the air, after killing Goose, he lost his nerve and would disengage, saying ‘No, it’s no good’. I did the same thing, but my rationale for disengaging was built upon as many reasons I could concoct to convince myself a relationship wouldn’t work with this particular woman.

What I was not thinking was how to sleep with as many women as I could and who cares if I hurt them. Again, I’m not trying to excuse the behavior, but I’d be willing to bet that 99% of the guys who act like jerks aren’t making a conscious decision to do so.

I’ve read that those with similar issues to what I suffered crave the thrill of the chase more than men without issues. Then they lose interest once the challenge has gone away. I don’t know if I buy into that, although research shows the free testosterone a man's body releases when in contact with a lovely woman creates an almost euphoric effect.  I know I've felt it.  Those who suffer with intimacy and/or abandonment issues enjoy a larger number of chases, only because they’re compelled to run away, once the shit gets real. You wind up repeating the cycle more frequently than a well-grounded male. But to say these men enjoy the overall experience more doesn’t ring true. Perhaps, it becomes a sort of soothing factor to them in the same way being in a relationship soothes men who can have one. I’ll let someone with the proper training weigh in on that.

I’m happy to say I’ve broken my own cycle of behavior. Therapy helped, but recognizing I had an issue and being mindful about allowing those toxic thoughts into my head has paid even greater dividends. Since then, I’ve had a few actual relationships.  Most importantly, I’ve not slept with, then bolted on a single woman.

This entry was penned a few years ago, yet never posted.  In the interim, I experienced the turmoil with Sloan, with whom I was vulnerable like a boss and hurt rather badly.  What a strong refresher to my subconscious of how vulnerability leads to anything but pain and disappointment.  I guess we'll see whether I fall off the wagon; I honestly hope I won't.

Mental Illness By The Numbers

This is Part 2 of a set of entries revolving around the same topic.  In Part 1, we established definitions for a few terms I've used and will continue to use.  This entry will be a sort of fact check on prevalence of those with mental health issues within my dating demographic.  Am I allowing my frustration to cloud my judgment or am I correct in my assertion that you're more likely to encounter someone with mental illness, in my dating demographic, than one without?

Some of my readers have taken me to task on that very topic and insist something in my subconscious causes me seek out the broken.  That it's a reflection of me and not the population.  Because someone being wrong in the internet is intolerable, I've taken some time to research and locate relevant data to either support my claim or discredit it.  However, before I share what I've found, I'll make a crucial point, which is I don't write about everything that happens to me.  I've dated women who seem to be perfectly well adjusted and provided not a hint of being broken.  But these women didn't work out, for one reason or another.  They're not interesting enough for me to put the effort into writing about, so I doubt the material would grab my readers' attention.  Let's be honest, it's the fucked up stuff that people want to hear about; people can't turn away from a train wreck.  So that's mostly what I write about.

Important Words and Stuff:  Before I go any further, I'd like to make my position on mental illness crystal clear.  While it may seem that I'm flip about the topic and uncaring of those who suffer, nothing could be further from the truth.  I do not in any way, shape, or form, consider those suffering from a mental illness to be defective, nor do I seek to marginalize them in any way (with the noted  exception of those who refuse to even consider treatment for obvious conditions).  I can both sympathize and empathize with those who struggle to maintain some sense of normalcy in their lives, despite the voices in their heads telling them they're not good enough, that they don't deserve happiness, etc.  In most cases, these issues didn't develop on their own or because someone's 'defective'.  Abandonment issues, for example, require multiple traumas to develop; traumas inflicted by others.  The affected women I've encountered, have almost invariably been kind, warm, caring, engaging, intelligent, and very much deserving of someone's love.  But because one or more very important people in their lives have hurt them deeply, their brain compels them to act in a manner that destroys their relationships.  It's heartbreaking to see such amazing women act in such a self-destructive manner.  However, they can also break the heart of those who might come to love them.  Therefore, I don't want to wind up in a doomed relationship with one.  Not wanting to date someone with a mental illness is not the same as feeling they should be tossed aside.  It's a big distinction that I felt needed to be made.

As usual, it'll seem like I'm picking on women but, aside from the usual caveat that I don't date men, I'll also point out that according the NIH, women are 50% more likely to suffer from mental illness than men.  This shouldn't be surprising because, as I mentioned above, a wide array of mental illnesses have their genesis in trauma; trauma inflicted mostly by men.  There are a number of other factors for the disparity between sexes that I won't go into, because I'd just be plagiarizing this article on the topic.  It's worth a read.

About The Data: In every instance, the data I'm using applies to any mental illness, as listed in the DSM.  This guidebook is rather comprehensive, categorizing everything from psychosis to phobias to depression, so the numbers include everything, except where noted.  Again, no data provided sufficient granularity except for studies on certain conditions which tend to make folks completely non-functional as people.  That's of no value here.  I'll say this again, when I state that X demographic is Y% more likely to experience mental illness, said mental illness could be anything from depression to complete psychosis.

My goal was to discover the incidence of mental illness in separated or divorced, college educated women between the ages of 40 to 50 (my dating demographic).  It should come as no surprise that level of granularity doesn't exist.  However, the data that is available allows us to sort of back into a number, albeit with some educated guesses. For example, all of the data sets I've found have too wide a range (26-49) for this exercise.  However, when viewing a graph of what sets I have found, it's clear that the incidence of mental health illnesses peaks in the thirties and forties, so there will be some weighting involved there.

Takes a deep breath....  So, with all of that being said, let's see what I found.  Every study I've found indicates a rather sizable gap between the likelihood of mental illness in married people versus separated or divorced.  The logic is somewhat self-evident.  A stable (even if not stellar) home life will often not only prevent some mental illness from metastasizing, but also mask existing issues.  For example, a woman who's been even somewhat happily married for two decades isn't as likely to suffer from abandonment issues as one who's been divorced twice.  Also, it would follow that more virulent mental illness may be the cause for some to be divorced.  Certainly, this was the case with my ex-wife, whose borderline personality disorder destroyed our marriage.

And here's the actual data, for you numbers types.

We'll start by establishing a baseline.
26% of adult population suffer with a diagnosable or serious mental illness (NIH)
Women are 50% more likely than men in general. (NIH)
That extrapolates to 31% of women.
Throw in a 5% bump (see above) to ballpark an adjustment for women in their 40's and you ultimately reach a incidence of 33%.
However, this doesn't take marital status into consideration.

The only base data I could find, with respect to marital status was a source (Robins and Regier, 1991, p. 334) that says 44% divorced or separated have mental illness versus 24% for married people.  In that case, if we adjust for women being 50% more likely to experience mental illness, we reach a number of 66%, with no age adjustment.

If we stick with the 31% baseline number, from the first scenario, and apply another data set I've found (Marital Status and Psychiatric Disorders, Journal of Health and Social Behavior, June 1992), the impact is even worse.  According to this study, separated/divorced women are 2.59 times more likely than married women to suffer mental illness.  Now, you're at 80% on the very low side.  I don't necessarily buy into the magnitude of that particular data since the sample size isn't as large as I'd like it to be.

Regardless of which data you use, it supports my assertion that in my target demographic, you are more likely to find yourself dating someone with mental illness than not.  Granted, it could be anything from depression to anxiety to multiple personality disorder, but that's the best I could find, short of funding a study of my own, which won't happen.

Stay tuned for Part 3 of this series, in which I whine, wallow in self-pity, and wonder if I'm being unreasonable.  It'll be fun.

Whackjob - Earning The Title

My last entry, on love and loss, left me feeling a bit melancholy and sorry for myself, wondering whether I'll ever fall in love again.  However, it also kicked my brain into overdrive.  This will be the first of two or three back to back entries further exploring a recurring topic in my blog; mental illness and dating.  This one will establish a few definitions as well as serve as a platform for a mild rant.  It may be offensive to some; they are welcome to go view cat memes instead.  Worth noting is these entries are not references to the woman I noted in the love and loss.  I wanted to make that clear because I know she'll read them.

Regular readers of my blog know that I’m nothing if not understanding of those with mental health challenges.  That I have had more than my share of exposure to those suffering from various issues and have first hand knowledge of how lives can be turned upside down.   I've always offered my support to those suffering these people and written a great deal on my experiences.

One thing I've taken flak for in the past has been my characterization of certain women (again, no experience with guys) as broken.  That such a term is hurtful, stereotypical, and further stigmatizes mental illness.  I've ignored this criticism and will continue to use the term for a few reasons.  First, it might make be helpful to define broken, in the context of humans.

Broken (adj). - Suffering from a treatable or curable mental health condition whereby said condition significantly impacts or prohibits that person's ability to form or maintain a healthy relationship with others.

I've shared numerous examples of encounters with broken women in this blog.  While most have serious signs of abandonment issues or intimacy issues, I've no doubt there are other conditions I've not been able to identify.  I've noted a few of those in this blog as well.  Regardless, they are all mostly incapable of having a healthy relationship.  And while it's a bit stereotypical to lump them together, it would make entries unreadable were I to be so granular each time the topic came up.

To those who consider the term to stigmatize mental illness, go look at cat memes.  Every time I encounter someone in whom I identify a mental illness (in the context of dating), I am incredibly supportive and urge them to seek treatment.  I've never considered the term to be derogatory when I've used it.  Of course, I'd be happy to never encounter a broken woman again, but that's a bit much to ask (more on that to come).

Not every person who can't build a healthy relationship is broken.  Some merely have their heads up their asses, either with unreasonable expectations, being self-centered, chronically immature, etc.  Others are just pathologically odd, but these people don't suffer with a diagnosable mental illness.   These are the fuckups because, they have no excuse to be well, fucked up.  I think we've all encountered a few of these people in our lives, although since I've jettisoned most quickly, I have no way of knowing whether they're broken as well.

Fuckup (noun) - someone without a diagnosable mental health issue yet causes havoc for those in their life

Having defined broken and fuckup, we'll move on to the title appellation and explore the whackjob.

Whackjob (noun) - A person with a treatable or curable mental health condition whereby said condition repeatedly causes harm to those around them but they never seek treatment despite overwhelming evidence of a condition existing.

Essentially, a whackjob is someone who's broken and despite overwhelming empirical evidence of their abnormal behavior, refuses to admit they're in need of treatment.   The whackjob is where my kindness and understanding leaves the building because not only do they cause harm to others, they repeat the cycle over and over again.  You may think I have an issue with whackjobs because of the harm they've caused to me, but it's much more than that.  It's damage to the truly innocent who can't run away that make me dislike whackjobs so much.  And yep, this term does stigmatize those who fall into it.  That's intentional because if we call them for what they really are, perhaps they'll take responsibility for themselves.  I tend to use this term quite sparingly, reserved only for the truly deserving.

My ex-wife represents an absolute perfect example of a whackjob.  Her borderline personality disorder harmed many many people who I don't think she'd want to inflict that upon.  Bullet points are probably best to document both behavior and impact.

• Promiscuity, resulting in unwanted pregnancy and subsequently putting her child and herself at risk
• Inability to be alone, causing her children to see a parade of sometimes dangerous losers passing through their lives
• Compulsive lying serious enough that all three of her siblings cut contact with her at one point or another as well as destroy numerous friendships and job loss
• Now on her fourth husband, with uncounted engagements (seriously, she had a collection of engagement rings but would never tell me the actual number of fiances she'd had)
• Treatment of her daughter resulting in her suffering from borderline personality disorder as well.  (because borderlines often beget borderlines) 

While she made my life a living hell for almost a decade, it was her family and children who suffered the most.  It's one thing to hurt someone who's a grownup and can extricate themselves from the situation but another to cause grave mental injury to defenseless children.  Regardless of your ability to self-justify, anyone could see such behavior as being abnormal.  She solidified her whackjob status after I sat down with her (after separating) and outlined all of this and more to reach the conclusion she had BPD.  Like most borderlines do, she told me I was out of my mind and tried to get me to drop it.

One doesn't need as severe a condition as BPD to become a whackjob.  I wound up in a one night stand with a woman exhibiting such nasty intimacy issues that she tried her best to disassociate herself from the event and left the house at a run when I tried to hold her after sex.  You and I both know this wasn't a one off; it's a pattern in her life.  But running from various men's homes doesn't seem to have made an impact.  Shame too, because I really liked her.

And I get that the mind has ways of rationalizing your behavior and protecting itself.  Hell, borderlines have been known to unintentionally, subconsciously 'rewrite' memories to where they could pass a lie detector test with their version of events.  But. for most whackjobs, there just has to be a point where the evidence becomes so overwhelming they can’t ignore they’ve got some serious fucking issues. Certainly, those people exist, but they can't really function in society.  When you're lying about your conduct, because you know it's aberrant, there's no way you can convince me you're unaware you're a mess.  And that's one of the things I've asked the potential whackjob.  'Did you tell your friends what you did and why you did it?'

More importantly, how can you be so self-centered as to continue with the same behavior, inflicting pain and suffering on every person who comes to care for you?  Instead of reaching out to an appropriate mental health professional and addressing your issues to take some fucking responsibility for your actions?  When someone sits your ass down and provides pretty compelling evidence of your condition?  When you know damned well it's hurting those you say you love?

(This is not a rant on my ex-wife.  While some of the above applies only to her, the majority is relevant with other whackjobs I've encountered as well.)

I have no time for whackjobs and absolutely hate encountering them because they consider only themselves and not those who love them.

I warned you that kindness had left the building.

Now that I've got all of that off my chest, I have one final term to define.  These are the people who are just odd or screwy.  While they're not screwy in a manner that repeatedly damages them or others who care about them, they are screwy nonetheless.  These are the people we shall refer to as normal, because let's face it, we're all a bit screwed up in some way.  For that reason, you'll never see me refer to anyone as screwy.

Screwy (noun) - Normal

In my next entry, we'll delve into some numbers.

In the meantime, stay healthy, friends...

The Girl Who Owned Nothing

Preface:  Most of the names, places, and details in this post have been changed, or omitted, to protect the identities of those portrayed.  These obfuscations do not materially impact the story.  This post also introduces the use of green font, which will be utilized to denote when a particular sentence is pure sarcasm.  There have been issues with some readers taking everything I write literally, so this should assist in clearing that up.

Over the years, I've encountered just about every personality type and disorder one can, but recently I ran across someone whose actions made it clear they were messed up, but in way I just couldn't put my finger on.  I was friends with this person for a period earlier this year.  Fadwa was highly educated, cute, and an international traveler, according to her Match profile.  We traded a few notes before my better judgment took over; I told her I wouldn't date her because she was separated.  If you've read my post on the topic, you'll understand why.  She was disappointed and initially tried to convince me to reverse my decision.  That wasn't happening, so we agreed to be friends.  Fadwa shared that 20 years ago, she emigrated from a middle eastern country, was Muslim, and a virgin when she married her husband.  She said she could probably use some friendly assistance navigating the world of online dating, considering her lack of life experience.  I agreed to offer the insight I'd gathered over the past several years.

She would share 'snapshots' of the various men she was communicating with and ask my opinion on each.  Most weren't accompanied by enough information to offer much insight, but a few were quite clearly ones to stay away from, in my experience.  One who became a source of friction between Fadwa and myself was Nick.  She shared how Nick was smart, successful, witty, etc. which made him sound like a good match for her.  Then she shared that Nick was a recovering alcoholic.  Danger, Will Robinson!  She said he was six years sober and did yoga, running, and a few other athletic endeavors to assist in maintaining his sobriety.  I warned her that she'd do best to steer clear of a former addict (having experience with this, myself) and that his sobriety seemed fragile, considering all the work he was putting into propping it up.  She chose to ignore my input and went out with him anyway.

At some point, our friendship expanded to include benefits.  She wanted to experience all the sexual freedom and pleasure she'd been missing, having only ever been with a man who sometimes wouldn't even get his clothes off before finishing.  I made the offer and she accepted.  And yes, this is germane to the story.

On either their first or second date, Nick flaked.  I don't recall where the photo was (house, phone, etc.) but Nick saw one of Fadwa and her hubby together, it freaked him out, and he disappeared, saying he couldn't take seeing her with another man.  At that point, I more strongly advised her to put him out of her mind and said, very specifically, that he seemed to be on the verge of a relapse.  Freaking out at the thought of someone you're interested with another is screwy to begin with, but after two dates?  That's just scary.  She told me she really liked him and still wanted to see him.

Long story short, she went to visit him one Saturday night, and he was drunk.  Wow, what a shock! No one saw that coming!  But he convinced her that he had just started and this was his first relapse.  Sure, because an addict would never lie about something like this.  I did my best to make Fadwa realize this guy couldn't be trusted.  That addicts will lie their asses off to everyone; I sent her a ton of source material to back up what I was saying.  She was convinced otherwise, repeatedly telling me 'he's always been honest with me'.  Of course he has....  She wanted to help him get sober in the hopes they could date again.  Ladies and gentleman, I give you the height of naivete.

To be clear, I'm not unsympathetic to her situation.  Having feelings for someone who isn't healthy for you or emotionally equipped for a relationship sucks.  In fact, I can empathize, because despite my best efforts, I still have feelings for the woman I've mentioned in previous posts, whose abandonment issues destroyed our relationship.  It's not just your rational and emotional sides duking it out on this particular issue.  Logic says 'we care about each other, we're both available, and neither of us are in prison, so we should be together!'  But you can't and attempting to wrap your head around that can be maddening.  In any case, the strong feelings Fadwa had were out of place, after three dates.

At some point, Nick was temporarily put on the back burner and a new cast of characters came into play, one of whom became the straw that broke the camel's back for me.  She wasn't terribly interested in most of the men, save one who looked good on paper.  I shall call him Gomez.  She pursued meeting Gomez but noticed what she thought were a few red flags, and solicited my input.  For the sake of brevity, I'll just say he was attempting to 'couple' himself to her before they'd even met.  I told her those were signs of either intimacy or abandonment issues.  I warned her to be cautious, which seemed to motivate her to interact with him with him further.  Gomez revealed a great deal about his past to Fadwa, which she then shared with me.  This guy's history could have been included in a textbook for abandonment issues.  Mother died, father remarried, new wife didn't like son so son was shipped off to live with family in Europe, previous significant other died, the list goes on.  I practically yelled at her to stay away from this guy; to learn not make the same mistake I had.  Seriously, if there's one thing I've got a ton of experience on, it's abandonment issues.

Throughout this period, conversations between Fadwa and I had become increasingly tense.  I openly shared my frustration that she continued to make poor dating choices, despite having my guidance to prevent her from doing so.  I pointed out that in every instance, what I'd said to her had been spot on, and listed them off one by one.  I'd correctly called out Nick as being fragile and predicted his relapse.  Before that, I'd provided input on how her mental well being had been impacted by an emotionally abusive husband and that she should break off contact with him.  That he was continuing to manipulate her.  Her therapist told her the exact same things as I did; that, she took seriously.  But she repeatedly ignored my input.  It doesn't take much of an imagination to realize this dynamic became incredibly frustrating to me.  It even felt a bit insulting.

She told me she listened to my advice, but made her own decisions.  I have to admit her response grated on me a bit because she just didn't get it.  What I offered wasn't advice; advice implies an opinion.  You ask for advice on whether the green dress or the blue one looks better on you.  Whether you should study engineering or marketing.  What I was offering was informed guidance that comes from possessing vastly greater life experience than her as well as my knowledge of human behavior.  As parallel example, I'm not a certified mechanic but have wrenched on almost every car I've owned.  So, I know a few things about them.  Enough to be able to recognize that if a wheel has two lug nuts missing and the others having one thread of engagement, said wheel will fall off.  That outcome is almost a certainty and well beyond the level of opinion.

The conclusion of every one of these exchanges was always the same.  Fadwa would push her bad choices off on others.  Things were left 'in God's hands' or it didn't matter because fate had already determined her path.  My personal favorite was her saying she'd pray for guidance.  I'd scream at her that I'd already given her great fucking guidance if she'd open her ears.  That I was fairly certain God would want her to use the fucking brain he'd given her.  But she wouldn't be the one driving; God needed to take the wheel.  If you've read my religion post, you know that's something I consider to be beyond ignorant.  And thus the title for this entry.  She'd make one bad decision after another and pawn it off elsewhere.  She owned nothing.

I recall the crux of the last few conversations we had.  She told me she was in love with Nick.  Sure, that's emotionally healthy after a few dates.  The last conversation we had ended with her considering dating Gomez again.  I'd had about enough of her acting like a child, so my warning at the time was only half-hearted. Besides, I'd said it all before and she never listened.  The last words I heard from her were 'but I do like a smart man', referring to why Gomez was attractive to her.  I know they were the last words because I hung up on her after she said them.  I'd had enough and cut ties with her.

But the story, and the theme, don't end there.  I'd apparently mentioned her (well disguised, of course) in a previous entry and she sent me a less than pleasant note demanding I remove the reference.  Of course, I always do what I'm told by people who ignore my advice.  I'm certain she'll throw a major fit after reading this post.  Anyway, included in the email was this gem:

I don't want to be friends with you. I feel much happier now that I am not in a fwb relationship as it is against my nature and interest. 

First of all, it seems she didn't quite get my not having anything to do with her for a month meant our friendship was over.  More importantly, without context, one could infer that I'd manipulated this chaste and virtuous woman into being fwb's.  Clearly I'd done an excellent job at it because she would regularly ask if she could come over for extra benefits, over and above the nights we'd planned.  (In the interest of good taste, I'll skip describing the less than virtuous things she wanted me to do to her.)  But yet another decision that she couldn't take responsibility for and wanted to pawn off elsewhere.  And that's why she'll forever be known as the girl who owned nothing.

Living With Borderline Personality Disorder - A Former Spouse's View

In the time between clients, my mind begins to wander, well, all over the damned place. Lately, it’s been drifting toward past relationships and, in particular, my one and only marriage. I’m over the marriage, put it in the past tense, and moved on, blah, blah, blah. But you see my ex-wife has undiagnosed Borderline Personality Disorder. In fact, I’m the only one who truly recognizes her condition, being in the unique position to see her current and past behavior in fine detail.

My Ex Wife

This entry will provide a view of what it's like to live with someone suffering from BPD.

For those who aren’t familiar with borderline personality disorder, you can read more here:

http://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/borderline-personality-disorder/index.shtml

The short version is that those with BPD do everything they can to prevent abandonment. This includes manipulating (i.e. lying, gaslighting) their partners in order to keep them from leaving. Their emotional state is in constant turmoil.  Consider BPD to be abandonment issues on steroids and then some.

I’ll preface by saying, despite some parts of the story appearing to be, this is not a ‘woe is me’ story. Consider it as more of a precautionary tale for those who don’t realize that true nut jobs walk among us and can damage you in ways you never believed possible. I certainly didn’t have a clue this was the case, when I met my ex. Hell, I didn’t know what the hell BPD was. I thought mental illness was people wandering the streets, talking to inanimate objects.  Surely, those people would be locked up or labelled or something, right? Aren't they required to wear tags around their necks?  I obviously learned the hard way that's not the case.  They walk among us and can appear very normal.

What sucks about BPD, is that it’s incredibly difficult to diagnose. In fact, I was dating a therapist who had been married to a BPD’er and didn’t figure it out until after the relationship ended, which is what happened with me. She also shared that when a patient at her practice is suspected of having BPD, they are interviewed by multiple therapists because of how adept they are at manipulation.  As a result, most borderlines never receive treatment.

How did I determine my (ex) wife had BPD?  First of all, I knew a great deal of her behavior was abnormal (as you'll see throughout this entry).  In digging around, I found the DSM and considered my ex’s behavior; BPD was the landslide winner. It was solidified by research on the effects of children of Borderlines, which seemed as though they’d just written a description of my step-daughter. I compared notes with the aforementioned therapist I dated and it was as though we’d been living the same lives. The final piece of confirmation fell into place in an almost humorous fashion.   I'd been seeing a therapist, during the dark days of my separation, and kept throwing supporting information at him but he refused to diagnose C as a Borderline. Not seeing her, ethics, blah, blah. Then, in one of my last sessions with him, I shared a recent rather lengthy email conversation with her where everything she wrote screamed ‘I’m a Borderline’. I showed that to my therapist, who after reading through the correspondence, blurted out, ‘Wow, she’s a high functioning Borderline.’ I looked at him and said, ‘gotcha!’

The Courtship
When I met C, she seemed like everything I wanted in a partner. Admittedly, I’d never experienced a true partner in previous relationships so I really had zero clue what I really should be looking for. But C was beautiful, smart, and thought I was the best thing since sliced bread. I was her savior from the other horrible guys she’d dated. And she’d dated a lot of losers, the most extreme example being her second husband who had done time for armed robbery. (Under the heading of ‘some people don’t change’ this would be the same scumbag who I, later, wound up showing the business side of a Glock to convince him he shouldn’t be following ‘our’ kids to their bus stop.) Truly, these should have been warning signs (not almost shooting her ex; that came later) but I defy most men to have a gorgeous woman praise them as their knight in shining armor and think ‘hmm, something ain’t right here’. It’s just not gonna happen! Hell, most guys are somewhat insecure to begin with, so they eat that up like a fat kid wolfs down cake. I know I did.

The relationship progressed incredibly quickly. On her side, the BPD was forcing her timeline. On mine, I was at an age where I decided it was time to settle down and C was amazing. It was almost as though my subconscious said ‘yep, you’ll do nicely’ and that was that.

The Relationship
So, all was right with the world. As time went on, there were little warning signs. I caught her lying to her kids in order to manipulate them. Hmm…she wouldn’t do that to me though, right? Her treatment of me changed over time as well. In the beginning, I could do no wrong but, seemingly overnight, I developed a dizzying array of character flaws. Every misstep was categorized and thrown on the pile. The general message from her to me was ‘I love you regardless of how useless you are’. Pretty effective at making someone feel really lucky they have such an understanding spouse. As time passed, my self-esteem dropped precipitously.

When there were differences of opinion, with respect to our relationship, I would try to be accommodating. There was a part of me that thought ‘she’s been married twice before so she knows better than me’. Hah! Dumb shit!

In general, every disagreement we had was seemingly my fault. When having a disagreement with a partner, my preference is to sit down, as soon as possible (sometimes one or both parties needs to let the steam vent before they can have a productive discussion) and have a frank and respectful discussion. But she wouldn’t discuss differences of opinion between us, ever. And when I would become agitated at her avoiding the discussion, I would somehow find myself apologizing for yelling at her. To be clear, I raised my voice less than half a dozen times, during my marriage, but apologized for yelling no less than fifteen times.

And she was the master at this type of manipulation.

She was also a black belt of the ‘I told you X’ to cover herself. I thought I was the worst husband in the world for not paying attention to my wife (adding to the shame). This was until I wound up taking notes from our conversations (for reasons too lengthy to get into here). Sure enough, her story (in this case, our relocation from PA to RVA) would change almost daily, yet she’d claim that whatever today’s story was had been her position the whole time.

BPD’ers have a great deal of difficulty controlling their emotions, often ‘losing their shit’ on perceived transgressors, many times to the point of becoming physical. C was unusual, for a Borderline, in that she rarely went ballistic and never got physical. But when she did freak out, it was usually in a context one would least expect. 

My favorite example almost invariably blows the minds of everyone who hears it. In fact, even the folks on the BPD support message boards (a community for those living with, or trying to escape, a Borderline) were impressed with this one. It involves cured meats. 

The Ham Incident

We were hosting Easter, and my parents were visiting from out of state, along with my grandmother. The morning of, my mother and I were in the kitchen, both finishing breakfast as well as prepping some sides for Easter dinner. Somewhat out of the blue, C began an argument with me over something I’ve since forgotten. Suffice to say it was something trivial and I defended myself. The argument escalated, with her yelling at me and being generally nasty.

And then, it happened. Out of the blue, she threw the Easter ham at me!!! I was accosted by a projectile of porcine smoky goodness!

Needless to say, things got really ugly after that. After all, you don’t throw smoked pork at me and get away with it! Nothing physical but there was a ton of screaming and yelling from both of us. My parents were mortified and left (they later told me they never liked my wife). 

We later sat down to talk and here’s the best part of the story. I apologized!!! God, she was an artist. The logic went like this: She had (allegedly) told me the previous night, to try to vacate the kitchen early so she could get the ham prepared. It was because of my mother’s and my loitering, in the kitchen, that she had no choice but to go ape shit and throw meat at me. Yeah, I guess it was my fault you had to throw the ham at me. I’m sorry; I don’t deserve you.

Attempting to project blame, to some degree or another, is a common theme in most relationships, so nothing new there. Most people try to deflect blame at some point. But she took projection to new levels of artistry. Here are two quick examples of her amazing projection, both relating to her wrecking her car, which she did regularly.

Once, she slid on ice, during a big snow storm, while approaching a stop light, and hit the guy in front of her who had already stopped for the red light. Whose fault was that? The dude who stopped at the light, of course.  He should have kept going since it was icy.  

The other one, that was quite inventive, was when she backed into a truck. We had moved into our new home a few months earlier and the builder was there to knock out some punch list items. His truck was parked in front of the closed garage door. C had to leave, opened the garage door, and promptly backed into the contractor’s truck. Whose fault was that one? It was mine because she was late and rushing to meet me. If it weren’t for me wanting to treat her to a nice dinner out, she wouldn’t have wrecked the car.

Her refusal to take blame for anything became a source of resentment for me. I wanted her to take ownership for something; anything. I tried to explain that I don’t care if someone makes mistakes; everyone does. But, if you screw the pooch in your marriage, you take ownership, apologize, and work through it together. Didn’t do a bit of good.

Gaslighting

C would often utilize a certain manipulation technique that I later learned was called gaslighting; a common tactic among those with BPD. Gaslighting is a form of manipulation that is considered torture, in some contexts. An excellent description can be found here:

http://counsellingresource.com/features/2011/11/08/gaslighting/

C demonstrated some serious skill at gaslighting. There would be some sort of disagreement between us, followed by her returning (from work or a family ‘meeting’, etc.) with the message that other people with whom she’d discussed the topic with agree with her perspective on the matter. To top it off, invariably, someone she spoke with would allegedly make a disparaging comment about me. Sometimes, there was only a disparaging comment about me; ‘my friends think you’re an asshole’. But the underlying theme was that I was wrong and a piece of shit but C wasn’t the one saying I was a piece of shit. She remained blameless. (I’ll revisit that theme in a later story)

A quick example of her gaslighting: we’d had a non-yelling disagreement over a topic which has been lost to history (which I’m sure I apologized for). The next day, she returned home from work and informed me that she’d spoken with five coworkers about what happened. All five had said they never have arguments with their spouse and one suggested I had an anger management problem. Pretty powerful stuff, if you trust your partner, which I did at the time.

However, as time went on, she got sloppy (desperate) with her gaslighting and made more and more outrageous claims. I used to joke she would claim her colleagues advocated killing puppies, if that’s what her position was. She began to tell me her position was supported by people who she had no way of casually speaking with (i.e. were out of the country, people she had vowed never to speak with again, those she admitted she hadn’t spoken with in years, etc.). In one case, she tried to convince me she’d just discussed ‘whatever’ and gotten support from someone who I knew had passed away a few months earlier. Yep, even those pushing up daisies agreed with her!

To top it off, she was a compulsive (yet talented) liar; a typical trait of those with BPD. I’ve never met someone who had such an aversion for the truth as C. It wasn’t just me she lied to. After we had been married for a few years, each one of her three siblings shared stories of how her compulsive lying had caused a rift between them. Of course, my response was ‘and you couldn’t have told me this before I married her???’ Honestly, I missed most of her lies until later in our relationship or after we separated; she was that good at it.

After we separated, I called her out on the lying, citing various examples where I had concrete evidence. She admitted she had lied to me quite a bit, over the years, but explained ‘I didn’t feel as though I could be honest with you’. She was afraid I’d go bat shit over the truth. Huh? I asked her whether she felt the same way with – and proceeded to rattle off names of her family and a ton of others she constantly lied to.  I don’t recall the fabrication she came up with in response and it doesn’t matter.

I have since come to understand that she was attempting to manipulate me into her own storybook version of the perfect marriage. Instead, the only thing she accomplished was to drive me away. But, to be clear, she was incapable of rational thought in many instances. In most cases, a Borderline truly believes their version of events because their brain can’t process the reality that they may be to blame for something. It’s called dissociative behavior and it creates a new reality of a situation that the borderline mind can accept. There were many occasions where she’d recall a recent situation / conversation / whatever and I’d wonder whether we were discussing the same thing, because I certainly wasn’t part of the event she was describing. 

We tried two go ‘rounds of marriage counseling. However, in both cases, I was in the mode of accepting ‘things aren’t working out because I’m a bad husband’. And she certainly wasn’t going to admit to lying and manipulation.

I’m ashamed to say the lying, manipulation, turned me into a bitter, selfish man. I had an affair at the office (she never found out) with another married woman who gave me what C wouldn’t; the feeling that I was a desirable man. Time went on and I made a couple serious efforts to regroup and be the best husband I could be to C. When I asked for some sort of positive feedback on my efforts, she responded with the message that I’d likely go back to being ‘worthless’ soon. So, I truly became a bastard because why bother trying not to be? 

I absolutely tried to be the best step-father I could. This was very important to me, as their own father wasn’t in the picture and C was incredibly erratic as a parent. On that, I believe I succeeded but that’s another story.

The ultimate tipping point was my taking a job in Richmond. She agreed to the move and was excited about my promotion. But, she wasn’t being honest with me or herself. As her sister later told me, ‘regardless of what she told you, there was no way C was moving down to VA.’ I’ll spare you the blow by blow but suffice to say that dynamic ripped apart what little was left of the fabric of our marriage.

And as the marriage finally disintegrated, I never once heard her tell me she loved me and wanted to save our marriage. Instead, she would berate me about not honoring my commitment; or abandoning her and the kids. 

In all honesty, I didn’t see the lying, manipulation, and emotional abuse for what it was. My motives to end the marriage were purely selfish at the time. I was tired of being told how horrible I was as a husband and tired of being lied to. I wanted out. I had to get out. My self-esteem was shot to hell.  I'll never forget that conversation I had in my head the night I decided to end our marriage.  I thought to myself 'I'm a worthless man and no one will ever want to be with me, but I just can't take this anymore'.  

The next evening, I told her I was done.  I became an enemy in a heartbeat and she wouldn’t allow me into the house. It had nothing to do with fear of me taking things from the marital home; just that she didn’t want me in ‘her’ home, being the traitor I was. She told me, flat out, that she was going to punish me for not living up to my commitment. She was so petty as to change my contact in her phone to ‘Dickhead’. It should go without saying that she dragged out the divorce as long as she could, milking me for spousal support the whole time. She wanted to keep our house, and belongings, and have me walk away with nothing. 

I can’t say I was devastated because I wasn’t. Sure, it hurt like hell that my world was turned on its head overnight. I was in a new city, in a new job, going through a divorce. Stress much? On the flip side, four days after I asked for the divorce, C had signed up on an internet dating site. I found this out later; her daughter was appalled.

Changed the Locks

Funny story about punishing me and how the manipulation continued during our separation.  She and I were working on a day for me to come up to PA and collect some belongings. She had commitments come up on the day I had free. No problem, I said, I have the key and I’ll get what we agreed to. She then told me that the locks had been changed. I asked why; I hadn’t threatened her in any way, had I? No. And I lived four hours away, so it’s not like I could pop by to serve some ulterior motive. She said her brother-in-law (who I got along with very well) did it because he ‘just thought it would be best’. I said it had to be an expensive proposition, considering what we paid for the custom finish on our door hardware. Yes, but he wanted it taken care of.

I was visiting my parents, during this email exchange (she wouldn’t talk on the phone and I was glad for ‘paper’ confirmations of what she’d agreed to) and it hit me. That common theme again!!!  I was being screwed, it was by some other entity, and C was blameless. I said to my parents, ‘the locks weren’t changed, she just doesn’t want me there.’ I tried to get my dad to take a $1k bet that the locks weren’t changed, but he’s a smart guy and passed.

So, the day arrived, and I pulled into my driveway, walked up and rang the doorbell. C opened the door and, after some small talk, I asked about the locks. I told her the finish matched really well to the original equipment. She took the bait and told me all about the process and how she didn’t want to change the locks but her brother in law did it without asking, etc. etc. etc. I let her dig the hole for ten minutes or so, then pulled out my key and said, ‘I guess this is trash and won’t work now.’ I stuck the key in the door, sure enough, it worked. The look on her face was priceless and all she could say was ‘whoops!’ I’ve never seen her so uncollected. She then began berating me about how useless I was and how I betrayed her and the kids. Broken record…

The Escape

One very important thing to remember about Borderlines is that it’s tough to get away from them. Even though I was the enemy, C continued to reach out to me. These little pings took various forms but they all were intended to yank my chain to get a reaction; ‘I’m throwing out you’re X (that I wouldn’t allow you to collect) that you like so much.’ Or, if her new boyfriend went out of town, she’d act like I was her friend again. You see, even though we were divorcing, she was desperately trying to prevent my final abandonment. And that’s the fun gift that keeps on giving with a Borderline. Unless you find a way to make a final break, they’ll keep bouncing back into your life. You must escape, period.

How did I get C to leave me alone? Simple, I shared my assertion she had BPD. The short version is that, once I determined without a doubt, she had BPD, I sent her a letter detailing how her behavior was perfectly in line with someone with BPD. That even her daughter was a textbook example for behavior of a child with a BPD parent. I (stupidly) offered to reconcile in order to get her the help she needed. Thankfully, she refused (it was easier to stay with the poor guy who didn’t realize how fucked up she was) and denied she had BPD (as borderlines do). From that point on, when she’d try to manipulate me, or exhibit other typical BPD behavior, I’d point it out and tell her I understood it was her BPD driving her. She’d attempt to suck me into an argument by insulting me and I’d respond calmly that I’d be happy to discuss my shortcomings with her and her therapist. Ultimately, she stopped communicating. I’m sure there were two factors involved in her backing away. She was freaked about being identified as having BPD. In fact, she was freaked even more when her own therapist pointed out some unrelated corroborating evidence. Plus, she realized I had become impervious to her manipulation so there was no longer a payoff for the behavior. In fact, it became dangerous for her because every little nasty trick she pulled was answered as another behavior typical of borderlines.

During that period of punishment and nasty tricks, my friends would ask me why I wasn't more angry over her treatment of me.  I told them the alligator story and explained she had no control over her actions.  I can still remember the puzzled looks on their faces.

There’s obviously a whole lot more I could share but those are the high (or low) points. Some readers might ask how the hell I could be so naïve not to see all the warning signs. Well, as I mentioned above, I’ll throw a beautiful, smart woman in front of you, have her extoll your amazingness to the world, and see how long you last.  And with a borderline, when things are good, they're amazing.  Once you’re in, it’s tough to break away because you’ve been convinced you’re not worthy of a good woman. It’s a slow, insidious process. Truly, the nut jobs who have their act polished are incredibly seductive. I wound up dating another girl who made the same noises (she didn’t seem to be a Borderline though) and it wasn’t easy to walk away from, even with the knowledge I’ve gained. 

While some may read this and think otherwise, I’m not bitter over what happened. The truth is that C wasn’t in control of her actions and, as a result, I can’t blame her. 

Ultimately, what came out of the whole episode? Well, I learned a lot more about myself. When I looked in the mirror, after we separated, I didn’t like what I saw and made a sincere effort to change the things that bothered me most.  For some time after, I overcompensated for missing what I felt I should have caught by ‘chasing shadows’ in other women. OMG, she likes the same type of apple C does; she’s gotta be nuts! I developed a rockin' case of fear of intimacy.  But, I’ve settled down and moved on to be what I would like to think is an emotionally healthy state.  In the meantime, C has married her fourth husband; the shelf life on her marriages seems to be around seven years, so the clock is ticking.

So, to all of my readers, I wish you happy and healthy dating.  Don't ignore warning signs in a potential partner.  If something seems abnormal, it probably is, regardless of how the other party justifies it.

https://tinyurl.com/gkvnbwz

Your Relationship With a Married Man Isn't

If you read my previous blog, which discussed unrealistic expectations in dating, and why women who've never been married / had children tend to be one big red flag, you'll remember the woman who became the sort of poster child for both.  In that post, I also related how the love of her life was a man married to another woman.  Over the years, I've encountered a few women who've told me the same thing.  In fact, I got into a fairly hot debate with another blogger here, when she attempted to defend being involved with a married man.  But this most recent one pushed me over the edge to write about the topic.  I almost feel the need to thank her for providing such great material for this blog, although I doubt she'd be terribly welcoming of my gratitude.

Before we go any further, I'll preface by saying this blog will likely include some rather blunt and nasty sentiments.  And lots of sarcasm.  I consider repeated and ongoing infidelity to be reprehensible and therefore, have little tolerance for those who engage in it.  

Back on topic, which is how someone can consider being involved in someone else's infidelity a meaningful relationship.

As a basis for discussion, here's what the most recent woman wrote in an email to me, although it's incredibly consistent with what I've heard from the others I've encountered.  

...there has been one man in my life who made me feel incredibly sexy, beautiful, and wanted. He was and probably still is absolutely amazing. The only man I have ever loved. We trusted each other against all odds and allowed ourselves to be vulnerable through words, thoughts, and announced feelings. He was also married and it would never be anything but that. Shame on him and shame on me yet the greatest love I have ever felt. 

Morality
Let's get this one out of the way first.  For the cheater, I don't think there's much of a debate to be had.  He's repeatedly cheating, being unfaithful, trashing his marriage vows, etc.  He's a scum bag of the highest order; pretty self-evident stuff.  In my opinion, she's not much better, knowingly engaging with a scumbag cheating on his wife.  Obviously, the situation changes if she doesn't know he's married, but that takes a special kind of naivete.  No, the women I've encountered have all been intelligent enough to know the guy's both married and going to stay that way.

Gullibility?
While that wonderful man is lying to and cheating on his wife, the other woman believes he's being honest with her.  Why would she believe otherwise?  Clearly, his actions demonstrate his high level of integrity!  

My favorite part of her text bears repeating:
We trusted each other against all odds and allowed ourselves to be vulnerable through words, thoughts, and announced feelings. 

Odds of what, you drama queen?  Getting caught sneaking around with a married dude?  Maybe that's it, against all odds, we got away with it.  

Also, I think it's I'd be remiss if I neglected to point out the omission of a rather important word here.  That word is ACTIONS.  As I wrote in my blog about love, it's a verb, and while words are nice to say and hear, they mean nothing without the deeds associated with them.

But, because he has to go home to his wife, he gets a pass on that whole action thing.  Except for the action he's getting from his side chick, obviously.  That's a great gig for him!  

He's saying all the things she wants to hear and she's drinking it in, like some sort of ambrosia.  She believes him because why wouldn't she?  After all, there has never ever been a man, in the history of civilization, who has said things a woman wants to hear in order to get her into the sack.  I'm confident enough to say I speak for every man on this.  It's just something we wouldn't do.

Yet, I've heard many women complain about men who do just that; say whatever they need to for a roll in the hay.  As a matter of fact, the woman who wrote the above, did just that in the same email.  It seems those weren't the right words for her to swallow.

When a woman tries to justify how great the cheater she's screwing is, I like to ask questions that usually get me in trouble, but force her to admit things she doesn't want to.  'So when the last time he changed a tough to reach light bulb for you?  Or got under your car to investigate the odd noise it was making.  When you had that awful stomach flu, did he come over and take care of you?'   The most common response, after the explanations and justifications (he would if he could, really!), is 'never'.  

Gullible?  I think that's being kind.

Affecting Later Relationships
When the two part ways, how does her experience impact how she views new potential relationships?  She has a plethora of fond memories, where her partner is loving, kind, thoughtful, and eager to please.  He always made their time together seem like a fairy tale.  She never considers that he only needed to be this amazing man for a few hours a week.  Almost any man can be 'perfect' and 'amazing' for short bursts.  But she's not thinking about that because she can feel he truly loves her, he said, sarcastically.

She doesn't see how he's let the garage become a disaster area, how he berates his kids (when he's not ignoring them), or refuses to help around the house.  How he's a bastard to be around, when he's had a bad day at work.  She doesn't hear him body shaming his wife.  These are are all made up and are not intended to describe anyone in particular.  However, from the women I've dated who've had their husband cheat on them, they're not far from the truth.  Not one told me their ex was a loving man at home.  In my experience, men who cheat tend to be neglectful and distasteful husbands.  Beyond the cheating obviously.

But again, she only sees that perfect man she fell in love with and he becomes the yardstick by which other relationships are measured.  That almost always leaves her in a conflicted state.  She wants a 'real' relationship, but none can ever measure up to that little utopia the cheater created for her.  No one, regardless of how exceptional they are, can be perfect 24/7, yet she somehow thinks otherwise.

Other Consequences
Finally, an aspect I can't really comment on, because I've no way of seeing into these women's heads.  What does an affair like this, really do to a woman's self-esteem?  Sure, she feels loved and all that other shit, but in the back of her mind, she knows she'll never be his top priority.  It's thrown in her face every time he goes home to his wife, or cancels an interlude because of unexpected family obligations.  His words say she's the love of his life but his actions invariably confirm her status as second best.  Or does she rationalize it in her obviously malleable mind in some way?  For those who've been in this situation and are brave enough, I'd genuinely welcome your input.

I'll close with a question to ponder.  Certainly, the experience negatively impacts the other woman, but was she already suffering from some sort of issue that made the arrangement attractive in the first place?  Feel free to share your thoughts.