Reminiscing

Even with all the excitement and promise of the New Year, seems I have managed to relapse today into reminiscing and missing what I thought I had in my former relationship. Decided to go online in an attempt to find some form of solace, some easy answer to make my heart stop aching so much. Stumbled across an online posting that included an eerily accurate description of the "person" who ripped my heart out last year.

He believed himself to be a good person. Women believed it too. Sensing in him a ferocity of commitment that was rarely found in modern men, women had often allowed themselves to fall in love with him, surprising themselves--these wised-up, cautious women!--by the speed with which they charged outward into the really deep emotional water. And he didn't let them down. He was kind, understanding, generous, clever, funny, grown-up, and the sex was good, it was always good. This is forever, they thought, because they could see him thinking it too; they felt loved, treasured, safe. He told them--each of his women in turn--that friendship was what he had instead of family ties, and, more than friendship, love. That sounded right. So they dropped their defenses and relaxed into all the good stuff, and never saw the hidden twisting in him, the dreadful torque of his doubt, until the day he snapped and the alien burst out of his stomach, baring multiple rows of teeth. They never saw the end coming until it hit them. His first wife, Sara, the one with the graphic verbal gift, put it thus: "It felt like an ax-murder." Excerpt from: Salman Rushdie, "Fury" mentioned by member libbyagnes on web site/blog "Narcissististic Abuse Recovery"

Sigh...who knew Salman Rushdie, of all people, had met the man I thought I knew?!

Okay -- tomorrow's another day, Scarlett. Let's hope for better things after some sleep.

Until next time...