I have an amazing knack for attracting men who act normal to begin with but turn out to be insane. The second-most recent one wouldn’t stop drinking and then refused to move out when I told him to leave. Seriously. For a month he refused to go away. And I still get e-mails from him telling me how unforgiving and mean I am. I put up with his horrible behavior for years. YEARS. At some point, you give up on people ever changing and have to call it quits, but that isn’t the same as being unforgiving.
The most recent one is even worse. He was staying at my house a lot but not living here, thank God, and had started pissing me off anyway. He could not go one day without telling me what I should be doing with myself or with my house, and granted, there IS a long list. I have a chronic illness that complicates daily tasks, like cleaning stuff off the table, much less embarking on major renovation projects. But when you are so exhausted you are feeling pretty good to get through the day upright with the bare necessities done, the last thing you want is someone buzzing around your head with a list of all the things you really should be doing. I do have a housekeeper, but he just complained also about how SHE wasn’t doing a good enough job.
That would have eventually prompted a booting-out.
But a few months ago my POTS got really bad until I actually couldn’t get up and do anything. I was in bed for 4 days barely able to move. I wasn’t diagnosed yet and was extremely upset and frustrated, as anyone probably would be who does not know why they just can’t seem to even move. He stopped by from work every few hours purporting to check on me because he believed I was seriously depressed, although I kept telling him I wasn’t depressed, nor sick, exactly, I just couldn’t move. Of course he also kept saying helpful things like I’d feel better if I got up and did something. Well, thanks for that tip.
When I got back up and around, I eventually went to take my regular nighttime medications, which include half of an Ativan tablet for restless legs. I had just gotten my prescription filled a week before I descended into bed for 4 days, during which time I was already sleeping like a log all the time and had no reason to visit the Ativan bottle. The bottle barely had anything in it. I wondered aloud what happened to all my Ativan, because usually I pour the rest of the previous prescription into the new bottle but thought I may have put the new bottle away without doing that or something. He mentioned casually “well, I’ve been taking them,” like it was no big deal. “You WHAT?” He said, “I took a couple, and they made me feel better, so I kept taking them.”
Well, I imagine if you took several milligrams of Ativan at a time they WOULD make you feel better. I counted the remaining pills and did the math and figured up that about 40 mg were missing, which was most of my prescription. They aren’t too happy about refilling this stuff early, and saying “my boyfriend stole my meds so I need a new script” is pretty much doomed to labeling you as a drug seeker.
Turns out, during those days he was so concerned he was coming by to check on me and make sure I wasn’t dead, in fact he was also shoveling my Ativan down his throat. (In later discussions he told me that my severe depression caused his anxiety to be so high that he NEEDED that medication. I’m not making this up.)
I immediately called the police and reported the theft, and they came and wrote him a ticket and gave him a court date. Criminal charges were filed. I had to move heaven and earth to get enough Ativan refilled until it was time to refill the regular prescription again and I’m still pissed that this made me feel like a drug-seeking asshole; I had to provide a police report number to both my doctor AND the pharmacy by the time it was over, and I just wanted to DIE from the way they looked at me. It was not good.
He went to court, pled guilty, and received a fine plus the judge told him not go to anywhere near me.
Eventually my judgement suffered and I returned a voice mail from him, which said he really wanted to apologize. That devolved into him acting like a sane person for a while, and I thought OK, he has some good qualities or I never would have liked him to begin with…we can be friends. So we chatted via text on and off. But he started slipping up and calling me honey, sending me kissy emojis, and stuff like that. Not good. Turns out he just couldn’t believe that one mistake like stealing someone’s meds when they’re sick would completely defuse any possible romance. Once again, I’m an unforgiving bitch.
So I just stopped responding to him. He wheedled. He sent casual funny texts. But eventually he started being mean. Yesterday I got a threatening text from him informing me he would be somewhere he knows I go on weekends, which he isn’t supposed to be doing per the judge.
So now I’m mad. Can I POSSIBLY date anyone who does not wreck my life in some way? No. No, I cannot. I hope that in the future, if I ever deviate from my plan to continue being a crazy dog lady, I will at least be able to stop this crap sooner rather than later. Once someone shows you who they are? BELIEVE THEM.