FAngel
08-31-2008, 06:01 PM
I"m sure some of you might recognize my name as a frequenter of this board from around a year or so back. I even had the chance to meet a couple of you at the Virus show in Jersey about a month ago. The relationship with the woman I loved kept me from this place for the most part, and I'm about to pour my heart out here, so be warned ahead of time that this is going to be a long, babbling talk.
I first met a girl named Mallory online, at one of those dating sites I loved to make fun of myself. We did the whole gradual communication thing, going from talking online to long phone conversations until I finally got the chance to drive from Bethlehem, PA to right outside of Wilmington, DE to meet her. Hack and cliche as it might be, the second she got into my car so we could find a 24 hour diner to drink coffee and (in her case) smoke, I knew I had found something wonderful. She was a smart-ass car buff who had just wrecked a Trans-AM she customized and practically built herself who played video games and worshiped The Doors and Credence. She didn't carry a purse, just a wallet on a chain. She had about ten tattoos, and even more piercings. She had dated more women than men. This was the start of something big, I thought.
Things picked up quickly from there...every weekend I would drive down to see her, shack us up in a motel for the couple nights we had, and the rest of the world ceased to exist. She taught me a whole lot about the outdoors - she could instantly name any tree, bird or fish just by looking at it, and knew a hell of a lot about life at sea from her days with her father on a crab fishing boat in Kent Island, Maryland. She was everything I've ver looked for in another human being.
Moving forward to September, I decided it was time to get out of my parents' home and got a nice apartment in New Castle, DE. I had a good chunk of money stashed in my savings account, and figured that I could live off that until I found a job, which shouldn't have taken too long. The plan was for her to move in with me not too long after I got down there.
Funny thing about plans...they never seem to work out in the end, do they? Mallory has something called Crohn's disease, an autoimmune disorder that affects the digestive system the same way lupus affects the nerves and rheumatoid arthritis affects the bones. She had been diagnosed at 17, and after a 2 and a half year bout with it that dropped her down from 140 pounds to almost 80, her body decided to go into remission (this was a couple years ago). Her next flareup began not even a couple weeks after she moved herself into my apartment.
It ate me up inside, seeing the woman I loved go through the agony of what this disease does to a person. Almost everything she ate came right back up in a violent bout of blood-laced vomit. She began to lose weight again, and in February, things truly started looking bleak, with visits to the ER almost every other week. I had to give up my apartment and move us in with her mother because money was getting very tight again. I prayed to the gods every night that things would eventually get better again, and it seemed as though she was on the mend. I thought everything was going to be okay again.
At this point in the story, I wish I could tell you that the end result was her dying. Heartless as it might sound, had this been true, I would have left with the knowledge that everything I gave her...blood, sweat, tears, all that shit...would not have been for nothing.
But no. Almost everything this woman ever told me was a complete lie.
I went to her mom with a question that was bothering me for a while...her mother told me once during one of the hospital visits that she was worried because Mallory had "never spent the night sleeping in a hospital." This conflicted a bit with what Mallory had told me about her first flareup, where she dropped down to 80 pounds and spent two months in Intensive Care, doped up on enough painkillers that they were basically giving her comfort until she passed. When I asked her mom about this, she looked at me as if I were insane.
I decided to press this issue a bit, and I am sitting here now, still in shock over what her mother told me. Keep in mind - I just learned all of this 24 hours ago, without any inkling of it before.
Lie #1 - Mallory owned a Trans-AM that was t-boned by a nearly 100-year-old man who was so distraught over the accident that she didn't have the heart to sue him for it.
Truth #1 - There was no car wreck. Her ex-husband, Mike (she married at an early age and never actually did divorce him) sold it to someone in PA and there was a financial issue over it. That's the end of it.
Lie #2 - Mallory has a half-brother (same father) named Dave, who once got drunk and ***** her. They recently started talking again, and I met him myself.
Truth #2 - Dave is not her half-brother. She dated him for some time and moved him in with her mother for no more than a month.
Lie #3 - Chris, a guy who has been in her life for a very long time (10-12 years) is "practically her brother," and has always been around in one form or another.
Truth #3 - Chris has been around for maybe three years. Mallory met him at a diner, and they apparently dated for some time. They had an apartment together for a short time. He has despised me from the moment we had the misfortune of meeting each other, and for all I know, I started my relationship with her as someone she was seeing on the side from him. I won't ever know the full truth about who he is, and I don't particularly care anymore.
Lie #4 - Mallory bought a truck, a 2003 Chevy S-10 with her own money. Her mother then forged the signature on the truck to get it in her name, using it as collateral on a personal loan.
Truth #4 - The truck was never in Mallory's name from the beginning. The car payment was financed with Mallory's disability money, which was automatically credited to her mother's account because of her living in the same residence and qualifying as room and board.
There's some other minor things along the way, but I think you get what happened here. The only thing I ever, ever wanted was to see my girlfriend feel happy and healthy. I've sunk myself so far into debt over her painkiller addiction, rationalizing it in my head that because she was sick and in pain, she needed this obscene amount of medicine.
Is this what you get for loving someone unconditionally? Was I that fucking BLIND by affection that I never thought to question any of this before? I know this is probably not much compared to what some of the older members here have gone through, but this has completely shattered any ability for me to trust someone again. I'm still literally in shock over it.
I first met a girl named Mallory online, at one of those dating sites I loved to make fun of myself. We did the whole gradual communication thing, going from talking online to long phone conversations until I finally got the chance to drive from Bethlehem, PA to right outside of Wilmington, DE to meet her. Hack and cliche as it might be, the second she got into my car so we could find a 24 hour diner to drink coffee and (in her case) smoke, I knew I had found something wonderful. She was a smart-ass car buff who had just wrecked a Trans-AM she customized and practically built herself who played video games and worshiped The Doors and Credence. She didn't carry a purse, just a wallet on a chain. She had about ten tattoos, and even more piercings. She had dated more women than men. This was the start of something big, I thought.
Things picked up quickly from there...every weekend I would drive down to see her, shack us up in a motel for the couple nights we had, and the rest of the world ceased to exist. She taught me a whole lot about the outdoors - she could instantly name any tree, bird or fish just by looking at it, and knew a hell of a lot about life at sea from her days with her father on a crab fishing boat in Kent Island, Maryland. She was everything I've ver looked for in another human being.
Moving forward to September, I decided it was time to get out of my parents' home and got a nice apartment in New Castle, DE. I had a good chunk of money stashed in my savings account, and figured that I could live off that until I found a job, which shouldn't have taken too long. The plan was for her to move in with me not too long after I got down there.
Funny thing about plans...they never seem to work out in the end, do they? Mallory has something called Crohn's disease, an autoimmune disorder that affects the digestive system the same way lupus affects the nerves and rheumatoid arthritis affects the bones. She had been diagnosed at 17, and after a 2 and a half year bout with it that dropped her down from 140 pounds to almost 80, her body decided to go into remission (this was a couple years ago). Her next flareup began not even a couple weeks after she moved herself into my apartment.
It ate me up inside, seeing the woman I loved go through the agony of what this disease does to a person. Almost everything she ate came right back up in a violent bout of blood-laced vomit. She began to lose weight again, and in February, things truly started looking bleak, with visits to the ER almost every other week. I had to give up my apartment and move us in with her mother because money was getting very tight again. I prayed to the gods every night that things would eventually get better again, and it seemed as though she was on the mend. I thought everything was going to be okay again.
At this point in the story, I wish I could tell you that the end result was her dying. Heartless as it might sound, had this been true, I would have left with the knowledge that everything I gave her...blood, sweat, tears, all that shit...would not have been for nothing.
But no. Almost everything this woman ever told me was a complete lie.
I went to her mom with a question that was bothering me for a while...her mother told me once during one of the hospital visits that she was worried because Mallory had "never spent the night sleeping in a hospital." This conflicted a bit with what Mallory had told me about her first flareup, where she dropped down to 80 pounds and spent two months in Intensive Care, doped up on enough painkillers that they were basically giving her comfort until she passed. When I asked her mom about this, she looked at me as if I were insane.
I decided to press this issue a bit, and I am sitting here now, still in shock over what her mother told me. Keep in mind - I just learned all of this 24 hours ago, without any inkling of it before.
Lie #1 - Mallory owned a Trans-AM that was t-boned by a nearly 100-year-old man who was so distraught over the accident that she didn't have the heart to sue him for it.
Truth #1 - There was no car wreck. Her ex-husband, Mike (she married at an early age and never actually did divorce him) sold it to someone in PA and there was a financial issue over it. That's the end of it.
Lie #2 - Mallory has a half-brother (same father) named Dave, who once got drunk and ***** her. They recently started talking again, and I met him myself.
Truth #2 - Dave is not her half-brother. She dated him for some time and moved him in with her mother for no more than a month.
Lie #3 - Chris, a guy who has been in her life for a very long time (10-12 years) is "practically her brother," and has always been around in one form or another.
Truth #3 - Chris has been around for maybe three years. Mallory met him at a diner, and they apparently dated for some time. They had an apartment together for a short time. He has despised me from the moment we had the misfortune of meeting each other, and for all I know, I started my relationship with her as someone she was seeing on the side from him. I won't ever know the full truth about who he is, and I don't particularly care anymore.
Lie #4 - Mallory bought a truck, a 2003 Chevy S-10 with her own money. Her mother then forged the signature on the truck to get it in her name, using it as collateral on a personal loan.
Truth #4 - The truck was never in Mallory's name from the beginning. The car payment was financed with Mallory's disability money, which was automatically credited to her mother's account because of her living in the same residence and qualifying as room and board.
There's some other minor things along the way, but I think you get what happened here. The only thing I ever, ever wanted was to see my girlfriend feel happy and healthy. I've sunk myself so far into debt over her painkiller addiction, rationalizing it in my head that because she was sick and in pain, she needed this obscene amount of medicine.
Is this what you get for loving someone unconditionally? Was I that fucking BLIND by affection that I never thought to question any of this before? I know this is probably not much compared to what some of the older members here have gone through, but this has completely shattered any ability for me to trust someone again. I'm still literally in shock over it.