unreliable, unpredictable, unstable. Yet he came back again and again. I didn’t know where he lived. He thinks I’m crazy, never missing an opportunity to remind me of my sister. I shouldn’t have told him about that. First time I call him back he tells me how well his life is going and I tell him about Lamia. I never learn. Two sisters who are murderesses. I’m sure he’s gloating about that. Why are we so cruel to each other? Why can’t two people respect each other? I shouldn’t wax philosophical when I’m drunk. I shouldn’t write when I’m drunk, but what the hell, I’m not writing when I’m not drunk. It gnaws at me that he hates my guts. Okay, I grant you, I was not the easiest person in the world to be in a relationship with. I am by nature very negative. Not all the time, but I do criticize a lot. I’m not a victim. I admit to my faults. He doesn’t admit to his. Maybe the reason I was so negative is because of the circumstances he put me in. What would you do if your lover was embarrassed by you? I want to make sure you don’t think I’m an embarrassment. I was an embarrassment to him only, for a number of reasons. I’m twice divorced and living off two alimonies. Supposedly, I also had mood swings, but I don’t see it as such a big deal. I can be happy one minute and angry the next. So what? I know a lot of people like that. My whole family is like that. Hell, we’re Lebanese. I think that was also a problem. I wasn’t just a foreigner, but an Arab. He says I attack him viciously, which is not true. Okay, so I did say he was emotionally constipated, but that wasn’t an attack, that was stating a fact. I simply point things out to him because he refuses to see what he’s doing. He gets me frustrated and I start saying things to help him see how he’s so annoying. If he got into therapy like I keep telling him to, I wouldn’t have to point all these things out. I have to take responsibility for what happened and not make the same mistakes again. It’s hard to conceive of loving another man again, and even harder to think of another man loving me the way he did. I do have to try, though. What’s frightening is that after all this, if he asked me to try again, I would in a second. This is difficult for me to admit, and worse, I admitted it to him. I told him I still loved him and he rejected me again. I don’t want to sound like the women who love too much or any of that crap. He had his good points. If he wasn’t upset, he treated me wonderfully. He was thoughtful, considerate, never forgot a birthday or an important occasion. Unfortunately, I always forgot his. He could have helped me by reminding me his birthday was coming up, but he loved it when I wronged him so he could become the martyr. He wasn’t a great lover. I was never fulfilled with him, which made me frigid in his eyes. Other women always had stupendous orgasms with him. In any case, I didn’t mind the sex. I loved lying in his arms in bed. Cuddling. He didn’t say let’s make love, let’s have sex. He’d say, let’s cuddle. We’d zip to my room, undress, our clothes flying apart, jump in bed, and cuddle. It was so romanti c and I miss that terribly. He’s a good cuddler. He always said I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever been with. I don’t think that was true. I think I was the most exotic woman he’d ever been with. Compared to Buffy and Mandy, how could I not be? Hell, after the women he’d been with, Mrs. Butterworth would be a step up. After he described his fiancée on the phone, all I could think was yuck. I think if I were with her for five minutes, I’d buy a gun. Graduated from Vassar with a “speech communication” degree. What does that mean, I ask you? Did it take her four years to figure out how to speak? Speech communication as opposed to what? Speech non-com munication? As opposed to sign language? Boy, would I love to give her a sign. I bet you she flips her hair incessantly. I
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