Friday, March 31, 2006

Living DEEP in LIMBO

okay - so I am not the most consistent writer in the world. I suppose I have been busy living, so the writing has been not so regular. Living with mixed results.

What seemed to be a big deal a week ago or even a few days ago, is now moldy oatmeal.

One great thing - that didn't happen: Spent much of the end of the week before last and last weekend checking out places. One fabO place in Ballard - where I met two artsy, healthy and quirky chiquitas around my age in charming cozy house - with a room I could definitely see myself living in ... after two pleasant visits AND all my hopes going skyHI - they never called me back.

Umm - what's up with that? I feel like going driveby and saying - what's up with all the DIRECT communication spiel? Why didn't you bother to directly communicate with me after I made such an effort and spent so much time coming out to your place TWICE! I mean, come ON show a woman a little respect! I am not a psycho-killer for goodness sakes!

Is this an example of "Seattle fake-nicey-nice"? I don't know.

So THAT is bumming me out, but then again, I am just getting my first work assignment with one of the 3 temp agencies I interviewed with starting next week - and it's only a week-long assignment. Sigh. I was really worried about the finances of paying the rent this Saturday. But I would have figured it out.

The other BIG thing - that shows mixed results - is an admission by Y that he had a sexually traumatic episode when he was a boy. It was actually a pretty innocent situation - playing Doctor and being found out - type of thing ... but the whole thing had deeply traumatized him and definitively shaped his sexual personality and preferences.

I thought after that conversation, that it was the magic key, to understanding him better. Certainly I had more compassion toward him after the conversation. But our relations are as weird as ever.

About a month ago, I erased his home phone shared with his Mom, bro, and sis, etc, because I was mad at him - erased it from my cell phone list. I told him I didn't have it, recently. He didn't offer to give it back to me. Anyway, I found the number on an old phonebill, and told him I had it via an IM.

He lied about it being the right number. Then when I called it, his mother answered, got him and he lied to my face by saying it was a "wrong number."

So I am presently disgusted with his weirdness. When I move to Seattle, I am going to make EVERY effort I can to meet and make friendships with NORMAL people!!!!

Tonight, I did a good deed :-) I helped V with a problem he had with Final Draft, a screenwriting software program. It took over an hour of trouble-shooting, but I was able to direct V to solve it with me! I find I get so irritated trying to explain things over the phone. I really have to check myself on that!

My "Transforming Anger: The HeartMath Solution for Letting Go of Rage, Frustration, and Irritation." book by Doc Childre and Deborah Rozman has really been helpful to me in dealing with my anger issues. Y and I haven't had a fight for three weeks!

Y says it is because we aren't having sex - and I don't buy that because after a week of pure/sexless talk we went right back into our old conversations. And the majority of our fighting was over the phone when I was in New York. We certainly weren't having sex then.

I was stupid, for not being more thankful that I was able to help V, my favorite man, after all. But my typical help-a-person-over-the-phone irritation attitude crept up. I really miss V. It makes me want to cry. I don't feel I am truly connected to anyone here, or that anyone really cares.

My throat and heart chakra areas are aching. I should be careful because I am close to my period time - and I am premenstrual and becoming drama-queen-like. I really have to rein myself in ... before I freak out on Y ... which I really want to do. But realistically, it is my whole life situation that is particularly trying right now! I just have to pray and pray .... and struggle to keep my spirits up.

Saturday, March 18, 2006

Conflicts, Hang-ups and Men

I can't believe it has been so many days since I last wrote in this blog. When and Why did the silence begin? The Thursday before last, I decided to flee all the drama going inside me by taking a long weekend trip to Vallejo, Ca. - where my mother and uncle are living. (The picture to the side is a reflection of my house in the flooded sidewalk of our front yard.)

Part of this decision was spurred by Y hanging up on me on Wednesday night. The issue? He had a problem with me using his name in my discussions with Che. Che who has left for Japan, I am missing terribly. At that point, I still wasn't talking to Che, and I was explaining "why" to Y.

Y wasn't interested in hearing my lengthy story and halfway through he interrupted me and asked me - Why did you tell him my name?

Me - Because you have a name.

Y - That isn't a real answer. Why did you tell him my name?

Me - Why does it matter?

Y - You are answering a question with a question - I will ask you three times and if you don't give me a real answer I will hang up.

Me - I don't understand what sort of answer I am supposed to give.

So I failed the "magic 3" test and he hung up on me and didn't talk to me all day Thursday, and didn't talk to me until I text messaged him the following message - Why are you so cruel? Don't you believe God is Watching you?

This got a rise out of him. But back to this later.

While Y was ignoring me, Che called me on Thursday night ... after days of silence. It turns out that he worked things out with his sweetie in Japan and was feeling repentant about dissing me earlier in the week.

I was proud of the way I handled my conflict with Che earlier in the week, even though in response Che ended the conversation prematurely saying he would talk to me later.

It was pretty ironic that Che called me the night after a conversation with Will about me basically feeling my friendship with Che was over - because he flipped out on me.

What had happened was Che was saying how he thought his girlfriend had betrayed him sexually, though it turns out she was only "testing" him - so she told him later - and then he went on a diatribe about ambitionless women who can't live without a man in their life and who open their legs to anybody that shows them attention while their man is out of the picture. And he had the audacity to lump me into the picture. I had to calmly reject his characterization of me. Sure I was hooked on Y - but I certainly wasn't promiscuous. Far from it - after my divorce - I went on a virtual sex strike for 6 years. And even when Y and I were having our difficulties - I didn't jump ship, even at long distance. My fidelity, if anything has taken on freakish proportions.

I told Che - Listen, I know you are angry about your girlfriend and it seems she has commitment issues, but she and I are different. And I don't think it is fair for you to be lumping me in with women who are sexually promiscuous or unfaithful. If anything I am TOO faithful.

Che - It seems that you are more than willing to put up with negative things that Y has to say, but when I say something negative you can't deal with it.

Me - I am just defending myself that is all.

Che - Well, I guess I will talk to you later then.

Me - Did I say anything wrong?

Che - No, don't worry about it. I will call you tomorrow.

Then "Click".

Umm ... ouch. I was stunned. Che had become a Mr. Hyde on the other phone, he was really angry and irrational and verbally out of control. But I didn't feed into it. And I didn't accept it.

I kept on thinking - if only I could be that calm and firm with Y.

But I failed one more time with Y on Friday - Ugh ... The whole issue of possibly being pregnant with Y's child, and him inexplicably just hanging up on me after we had been having a cozy conversation for a couple of hours after I got back after my first ride on my bike from the Ferry . . . I felt he was being cruel.

Of course he didn't KNOW about the possible pregnancy - UNTIL ... I told him via a text message:

By the way, I might be pregnant. I have an appointment next week at the clinic to find out.

This was after I had texted him saying - How can you be so cruel? Don't you believe God is watching?

Yeah, that got a rise out of him ;-/

Well, I didn't set the precedent for a good conversation ... I admit, and it only got uglier from there - on both sides, with the final conversation ending at the Greyhound Bus Depot in Seattle - with him saying that he NEVER EVER wanted to speak to me again!

Ugh ... since that point ... I have been trying to clean up after the wreckage.

Sunday, March 05, 2006

AGORAPHOBIC or Sitting it OUT?

This week I spent Weds afternoon through Friday morning at the NW Kinetics Clinic to finish out the second week of the Leukine study. It felt good to be surrounded by people, since my life since coming to Seattle has been sterile socially. There are a number of cfactors contributing to this sterile situation.

1) Supposed friends - whom I was expecting to spend lotz of time with either betrayed me or haven't bothered returning my calls. Believe me, the first thing I did was call Leo, Julie - betrayal. And then Encarna and Martin - not returning phone calls ... in a while, when I feeling more confident I will call the latter again - with diminished expectations, of course.

2) Time conflicts - This study has actually interfered with me attending a number of events and classes that I would have attended these past two weeks.

3) Financial - Until I purchased a bike, I could not attend late night functions in Seattle without being prepared to walk two hours home from the Ferry in Bremerton.

The bike situation, and my weakness for spending days on end without anybody giving a damn about me, caused me to IM Y when I saw him online Wednesday afternoon. I had sent him two emails pointing out his abusive behavior, but I didn't expect any response. Wednesday I contacted him with a proposed deal - if he went out and checked out and purchased a bike for me from the bikes I chose on Craigslist - which I would reimburse him for - I would consider some sort of rapprochement. He didn't have a problem with this and since that point we have been emailing and texting each other concerning the bike and discussing the difficulties in communication, etc.

This morning he bought me this fabulous bike. I am really excited - a brand new designer mountain bike for $60. Now I will be able to improve my social life immeasurably. One thing about Y, that is positive, is that he does give good advice. He is supportive of me improving my life, work situation, my social life, my finances, my living situation. In this way he encourages me to take steps that will strengthen me on the whole. BUT there are times when he is judgemental, then the nastiness begins. I was surprised that he didn't argue with my decision to stay living for free in my Mother's house - which is at least an hour and a half away from him, in spite of the fact that he doesn't like driving so far to see me. He told me it was a good idea for me to save money.

He wanted to see me yesterday and tonight, and I told him that I needed more time.

But during the study - I wasn't thinking much about Y. I was too busy being poked, at least 20 times in a day for blood draws - OUCH! And dealing with the anxiety of the oncoming side-effects of the drug and then of course the side-effects. This week the side effects were very different except for the pelvic bone pains which lasted half the time of last week. This time I experienced shortness of breath AND waves of nausea for the first time. They had to do all sorts of extra testing on me to ensure that I wasn't in grave danger. I would say the shortness of breath was disconcerting, but I preferred it to the longer version of burning/aching pelivic bone pain.

While we were having our blood drawn, the women were sitting in two rows of barcalounger type chairs facing each other, which were situated in the EVERYTHING ROOM. Near the lobby entrance was the serving area and dining area, in the middle the chairs, on the far side - the wide screen tv and tv viewing chairs and computers to the left of the tv. On the wall connecting the entrance and opposite the lounge was the glass enclosed office of the staff. On the wall opposite the dining area were bathrooms and examining rooms. Lastly an extension from the chair area and leading past the examining rooms was the entrance to the participants rooms. In this extension a few chairs were placed and a hodgepodge of medical stands and equipment were stored along the wall.

I thought that being in that room with no windows - which I disparagingly called the "ugly" room would be deeply disconcerting. But because the women were so calm and quiet - the atmosphere didn't seem so abrasive to me, even though we weren't in "recliner land" - a barcalounger participant area, which was well lit by natural light and was painted a serene vanilla buff.

I realize how deeply I am affected by aesthetics - I texted Y today and told him - I figured out that it is a lot easier to be lonely here than it is to be lonely in New York. This is what I experienced in upstate New York - that I could spend hours and days on end alone in a sort of contemplative mood, or an escapist mood - reading or writing, and not feel the same sort of depression/desperation/angst that I felt living in New York City. I realize aLOT has to do with the aesthetics and "vibe" of the place.

I have a tendency to get very reclusive when things get tough ... in order to manage my anxiety and angst. Today, when I didn't want to go out, it wasn't that I had anything to fear concerning negative "vibes" of the environment - but just that I wasn't up to any particular physical effort - in the overcast outdoors. I also just wanted to be HOME ... after being away most of Wednesday through Friday and then again most of Saturday.

I got a ride from Darlene to the clinic on Sat. She was the woman who sat by me in the line of barcaloungers - a lovely Trinadadian woman. She told me that she has been doing studies with NW Kinetics for 10 years. She is a naturally sunny natured woman, with a very solid personality. Of course, she is a regular church-goer. I say, of course, because it is very rare to meet someone like her - who isn't involved in some sort of spiritual activity, a person of deep conviction, kind, and wise. I was so impressed with her that I am considering checking her church out.

I am concerned though, I don't want to be involved in a church that is rightwing politically or goes overboard on the woman must be submissive thing or is particularly judgemental, etc. The thing is ... I would like to make friends with people LIKE Darlene, whom I can actually trust ... who are a bit more solid ...

I am feeling this more and more, because each day I am more and more sure that I am pregnant. I won't be able to check it out until a week or two from now ... so I am in this weird limbo ... not knowing if my life will be radically changed forever by a child or not.

I try to think - both pregnancy or false pregnancy is good news. But I have to say, even though it would be a HUGE challenge ... I would prefer to be pregnant - even knowing that Y is the father ... and that I don't want to get married to him, even if we were getting along consistently. He is not ready for that sort of commitment, and I am not interested in bringing up a baby in a household full of drama.

Tuesday, February 28, 2006


So I drag my sad sack out of bed to post the payment for hopefully the LAST traffic ticket I will ever receive in New York City or anywhere else for a LONG time. My driving record is rife with minor traffic violations since I started driving a taxi 3 years ago. Ugh! I take the hilly scenic walk along our peninsula road to the busstop. The breeze is beating against my full-length dark green down coat. I look like a fluffy spruce going mobile. My chest and throat feel tight and achey with a heavy feeling. If I think at all about Y, which I can't help, tears start falling.

Once on the bus, I reflect upon the other riders. Inevitably there is a young white woman who is a half to a third my age, who is holding a toddler, or who is sharing pictures of her newest baby, or discussing her kid or kids with another rider. The first girl I noticed was monstrously large, with a solid bun on top of her head that stood a full 6 inches in height. She was wearing jean shorts that revealed her massive tree trunk like limbs and a hip-length jean jacket that obscured the fact that she was wearing shorts at certain angles. I observed that his girl had no body issues. A moment or two after having seated herself, she got up to show the busdriver pictures of her newest baby and of her husband. Her husband looked like a linebacker. He was black. I didn't get a glance of her baby. But she swore that she would get custody of the child in a couple of weeks.

It turns out that this woman, who couldn't have been older than 19, already had 3 children that had been taken from her and put into foster homes until her uncle in California adopted them. This girl was a walking baby machine - who didn't seem to "get" the idea of responsible motherhood or birth control for that matter.

The second teen mother I observed, was a few days later. She was this cute redhead on the plumpish side, who started a conversation with a lanky boy with a gaunt face who got on the bus a few stops afterward.

She said - Well, I am fifteen and I already have a 2 year old.

I did the calculations and was thinking - Jesus, 12 years old and she was pregnant.

This child was also in foster care.

Today, an old woman of 21 was holding a 2 year old on her lap, and telling how she had to postpone her wedding due to her pregnancy. The child she had on her lap was an angelic blue-eyed and chubby-cheeked blondie. She told the story of her wedding that was missed by her family due the conflict of her grandmother's funeral a week earlier which tapped out the families' travelling expenses. She told this all to a woman who had had seven children and was on her third marriage.

For a woman who just broke up with her lover, who is 42 and always wanted a child, riding the baby bus is excruciating. Especially when the thought of getting intimate with ANY man after all the pain of Y and my previous husband is terrifying to me.

The problem was - I truly wanted a good father for my child. I didn't want to raise a child without a father or an abusive father. I wanted to be responsible, but I can't help thinking maybe if I had had a child, maybe that would have pushed me to be more career oriented for the sake of the child's future, if not my own.

My problem, is that I am a sacrificial sort of person. It is always easier for me to do difficult or challenging things in my life, IF my motive is to help or partner with someone I love. For myself, I am not so demanding ... I am too easily satisfied with the simple pleasures of life, beyond my love of dance, of course, to really feel the necessity to strive to succeeed in a BIG WAY.

When I was last lying naked next to Y - I marvelled at how wonderful the warmth of his skin against mine felt so perfect. I am a sensual person ... the feeling of the sun's warmth, a perfectly ripe peach, a really good conversation with heartfelt connection, a melodic beat that takes over my body, a literary passage that transports me into another place ... all these things bring me as much or more pleasure than any sort of "accomplishment" I could gain. The only thing I have every felt "ambitious" about is dance, only because dance provides me with the sensual pleasures that I so need for my happiness.

Now I am in social sensory deprivation - with no friends, no lover here in Seattle. I am praying that the pain of "aloneness" won't push me to contact Y again. The reason, even the most intelligent and "strong-willed" woman goes back to an abusive yet familiar relationship is that it is a trade-off of dealing with the constant heartache and sadness and loneliness she must endure while alone, nursing her empty pride. I know, just like any addict pining for a fix, that the pain I am experiencing now - would magically disappear for as long as he was decent to me and I felt connected to him. But that would only last as long as his abusive behavior was kept in check, which wouldn't be long.

Monday, February 27, 2006


I have spent most of my day reading about emotional abuse on the internet. I have to come to terms that this is an ongoing issue in my life. I couldn't get myself out of bed and dressed until the day had grown dark - after 7 pm. I stared out the window from time to time to watch the progress of the light outside my window. At around noon the sun was pushing through the clouds and reflecting off the beige clapboard panels of the house next door. I sensed the light breaking through before I rolled up the ricepaper shades and pushed aside the lace curtains. There was a call to life - Come out and enjoy the sun! And I ignored it.

I stayed inside all day until I dressed so I could return one of the space heaters that the next-door-neighbors loaned me. In the morning I had cancelled the appointment to have the furnace looked at in the afternoon, because I couldn't bring myself to deal with getting up out of bed, walking 2 miles to and fro to the bus-stop so I could take the bus to the bank to withdraw at least $200 and possibly be billed for more in addition to that should the problem be BIG. I reasoned the weather is getting warmer, and that the space heater is enough for my heating needs. I spend most of my time in my room anyway. The kitchen has the oven for heat. And for showers, I take the heater to the bathroom.

I said I was "homeless". In the strictest sense of the word - I have no solid, permanent home at this point. I left my last home, my shared apartment with my best friend Victorio, in the Washington Heights neighborhood of Manhattan to live here temporarily until I found a more permanent situation in Seattle. "Here" is my mother's summer home in Bremerton, Washington State. She will return in May, and we do not live together well. Last summer when visiting for the summer, I left because ... can you believe it ... because I wanted to pursue my "involvement" with Y. My mother didn't like the fact of us fucking in her house.

And if I had kept to her desires, this obsession with a cruel man, and my own willful participation in self-destructive "love" on my part, not his ... would have never have happened. Case in point - yesterday - Sunday. When I welcomed Y for "fucking" into my mother's home after a series of abusive behaviors on his part last week.

Tuesday night on the phone - I shared my excitement about my day's successful private session with my new Seattle flamenco instructor Rubina Carmona, especially concerning her invitation to join her Amateur Flamenco company - pronounce La Penyah with Y. His response was - But you SUCK at performing, don't you?

I said - Why did you say that?

He replied - Well when I asked you to show me how you dance, you just showed me some lame-ass move.

At that point, I sighed and said - Oh, my God, I can't talk to you. Fuck you.

And then I hung up and then the anger of his betrayal and his attempt at crushing my confidence in the ONE thing that has kept me struggling to keep on living the six years since I left my husband - flamenco dance ...just welled up in me and I called him back. I heard his voice barely and then just started shouting into the phone at him - "Fuck you for making fun of something that means so much to me!" "Fuck you for being so insensitive!" And then I hung up. I sent him several angry text messages telling him I wouldn't talk to him any sooner than later that week.

Later that week came-
And I figured that he was punished. Why I figured this, I don't know, because he didn't make any attempt to apologize. No mention was made concerning his hurtful comments or my rage. It was if nothing had happened.

I left a message for him on his phone on Thursday afternoon, and we spoke on Friday. Much of Friday we wrangled on the phone because I was trying to get some emotional support for two hurtful situations. And when I expressed my upset feelings he felt blamed and got defensive and hostile.

From Wednesday afternoon through Friday morning I had been participating in a paid Medical study at N.W. Kinetics in Tacoma, Washington. It was a gruelling stay - the study involved 20 needle poke draws of blood within less than 16 hours. At one point we were having our blood drawn every five minutes. The inner crease of my elbows and inner arms were black and blue form all the blood draws. The side effects of Leukine, the drug being tested, caused me to have excruciating burning/aching pains in my pelvic region for over an hour - but then I didn't know it would only be an hour. I didn't know how long the waves of pain would last. And the woman next to me who went from smiley and complacent to writhing and moaning and barely communicative in a matter of minutes after the administration of the drug, was scaring me. Would my contractions, trembling and aching increase to her level as well? Needless to say - I was looking forward to returning to my Bremerton abode.

What greeted me there was a non-working furnace, and after making a few phonecalls I discovered that it could not be fixed without a monstrous monetary outlay that weekend - $150 the first fifteen minutes and $20 per 15 minutes following, or I could delay it till Monday with $87 the first 15 and $20 per 15 following. At that point I had no way of contacting my mother and no electric heaters.

That was situation number 1.

Situation number 2 was finding out that the friends that I thought I had in Seattle, with whom I had envisioned living with as happily as I had this past summer ... these same friends had advertised the very same room I had been living in that summer for 3 days straight on Craigslist without notifying me. I had spent lovely summer moments with both Leo and Julie taking daytrips, cooking, playing board games, doing house errands and chores, talking and laughing ... The following fall and winter months in Manhattan I mourned the lack of community in my life ... the community I had felt in the "House of Dreams."

Y told me that the reason that Julie probably didn't want me to live in her house was that I complained about her African Grey Parrot Charlie SCREECHING and that when I visited the house on Thanksgiving - she may have felt used when I had invited him to visit and in addition to working on his paper, we ended up having sex on the couch in the living room. When he told me these things - I started to bemoan that I was a terrible person ... and then he got angry at me. To be sure I wasn't taking what he was saying well, but at the same time I wasn't telling him he was a jerk for saying such and so. Anyway ... the overall conversation on the phone was mixed. I felt better after talking to him, but dismayed at his complicated responses to my emotions.

Saturday - I returned to Tacoma for an outpatient visit - which means a 3 hour commute from Bremerton - the half hour walk to the bus, the half hour bus to the Ferry, the hour long Ferry to Seattle and then the hour long bus ride to Tacoma and then the local bus to the clinic. Later that afternoon I scheduled a visit to a communal house - "Bob" the house, in the University District to check on a room. I had considered going to Rubina Carmona's performance at the Solstice Cafe, but knew that I had a two hour walk home once I arrived in Bremerton, and didn't know if I would have the energy to do this around midnight. Earlier Y was calling me and would say - Sooo ... do you want to fuck?

I have to say - I set that train in motion because I had texted him in the morning - Buenos Dias, tu quiero su cuerpo. Maybe we can f.... later?

But by the end of the day, I told him - that I was heading home, that I was too tired to wait for him to get out of work and besides we didn't have enough time to get together. I was on the bus heading back to the ferry so I was trying to be lowkey on the phone.

Y - "Time? Time? How much time do you need to get together. Fifteen minutes? Twenty minutes?"

Me - "I am not your whore." (Saying this in context to his opening comment - Do you want to fuck?

Y - "Did I call you a whore? How did I call you a whore? Tell me I want to know!"

Me - You said it by implication that all we needed was 15 or 20 minutes to get together.

Y- You mean if I say to a friend - how about we get together for 15 minutes - I am calling them a whore?

Me - That's not what I meant. (What I wanted to say was that I wasn't going to get together for a small chat and then fuck and then take the ferry home. But I couldn't bring myself to say this on the bus in public.)

Y- (Who was working at the time called out to a friend/co-worker while laughing out loud) Hey Erin! Do you feel like a whore if I ask you to hang out with me for 15 minutes?"

At that point I hung up on him. Here he was humiliating me in front of one of his best friends. I couldn't take talking to him any longer. I sent him a text message that I wouldn't hang out for two hours with nothing to do JUST to hang out with for 15 minutes, fuck and then go home. (Because he has always refused to be my boyfriend, and only wants to be a "fuckbuddy" or "friend" - I added a nasty comment that I wouldn't make that sacrifice for the "love of my life" let alone him.)

I took the bus back to the ferry. Once on the ferry I tried to forget the unpleasant conversation by reading a script that I had saved on my computer - "I married an Axe Murderer." At halfway point, I grew tired of reading about the travails of yet another commitment-phobic male and decided to take a nap to prepare for my 2 hour walk home.

Walking home, I felt numb, wondering why in the world I had chosen to move to the Seattle area. My backpack, which held my mammoth agenda and my laptop was cutting deep into my shoulders. The air was damp and chilly. Cars drove past me in the darkness and I walked and walked. About a half hour into my walk Y calls and asks me - Do you want to Fuck?

I told him - No, I don't want to Fuck.

Y - What if I told you that I was about to get on the Ferry to Bremerton?

Me - I would say that you are a liar. ( He told me that he didn't get out of work until 8, and he was calling me at 10 after. He liked to mess with my mind.)

Y - Well, then I guess I will have to turn back and show you my ticket next time.

Me - I still don't believe you and No, I don't want to fuck.

Y - Well, I guess I will go then.

And that was that. I knew that there was no point in explaining to him that I had almost two more hours to walk home, or that the house was a mess because I had been sleeping in the kitchen to keep warm, or that I felt turned off by his crude and insensitive approach to me.

Sunday - I let all that go ... and texted him that I wanted to "f..." ... back on the train of abuse. So he came over. And we had this hot-wild fierce sex. He was calling me "whore-bitch" while I rocked on top of him and I called him "asshole" while gripping at his face, stretching the skin of his cheek. At points he would shove my neck to the side roughly so that he could bite at my neck or suck my ears or have a full view of me pumping on his lap as he watched me in the mirror. He came groaning - Fuck! and writhing under me.

It was 20 minutes that he started to worry about catching the Ferry in time. I had told him earlier that I wanted to cook him dinner, and that I needed him to drive me to get groceries since the closest grocery store was over a mile away. He was amenable to this earlier, but then suddenly he was telling me had a study appointment with Erin which demanded that he leave in about an hour at least.

I couldn't believe that "EXACTLY" what I didn't want - for him to come over and "FUCK and RUN" was happening. There we were skin to warm skin ... which felt so beautiful to me ... and he was telling me he had to study, blah, blah. I simply said in my softest voice - "Why did you bother to come at all, when you have to leave so soon?" To this he jumped out of bed and started dressing - responding as if I was throwing him out. All I wanted to understand was - why didn't he just do his homework, which he told me earlier was minimal, earlier so he didn't have to rush off.

But the fact was - he wanted to fuck and go, he didn't want to hang out with me. Had he wanted to hang out with me, he would have planned his time differently. But instead he used my question as an excuse to leave me alone in a cold house, without groceries, half naked pleading with him to stay.

For the love of me and of God ... that should be the LAST time ... and I am writing this now ... trying to be as honest about how I behaved and he behaved.

This is a move toward self-acceptance. I look okay on the outside, but inside I am a mess. In my last blog - I presented myself as this upbeat, artsy, adventurous woman with a devil-may-care attitude about life and bucket loads of faith and hope for her future ... It started out that way, and then I met a man who changed it all. A man whom I allowed to change my sense of hope and faith and love of me and my life. Not for the best, but for the worst.

For the past six plus months I have been involved in an abusive "involvement". I couldn't call it a "relationship", unless I wanted to paint things pretty. Y and I met in the summer. He was the first man I had a semblance of a relationship with in 6 years. But if I am straight with myself, it was fucking with correspondence. I was having a magical summer in Seattle. I have been living in Manhattan for about 4 years now, driving a cab, dancing flamenco, and moving from apartment to apartment every 6 months on average. The last apartment I shared with a bitch mutt Hawaiian pseudo-sweety. The kind of wide-eyed innocent looking girly who is only nice to you if you give her what she wants - otherwise she turns on you like a snake. It is funny, but she and Y had the same eyes deep dark eyes and willowy but muscular good looks. They also had the same mannerisms both charming and evil. Their eyes told you everything, but their words were all lies.

So back on track - I was investigating Seattle as a possibility for a new home, a new life, a new way of being. You can get more details from Taxidreamin ... and I met Y. I call him Y, because he is the "Y" factor of my life ... Why does a woman, who is attractive and intelligent and strong and independant in so many ways - why does she attract and put up with and even end up loving abusive men?

I can give all the psychological reasons for this - Daddy was abusive. Mommy put up with abusive men. I have low self-esteem. I value "relationships" over practically everything else in my life. I don't believe I am lovable enough to deserve a "normal" man.

I could go on and on. But I don't understand after being basically celibate for six years, in order to heal from the trauma of my abusive marriage ... the first guy I end up getting emotionally and physically hooked on ... that I allow myself to be sexually vulnerable and open with for longer than the few 1 night stands and the brief affair I had in those six years ... he is from the get-go... abusive. He even told me immediately following our first "fuck." He told me how he had slept around on his previous girlfriend, numerous times and she never knew.

My response, instead of being repulsed by his admission, was that I was intrigued by his honesty about his dishonesty. What a weird way for me to think. The guy is telling me he is an asshole from the very beginning and I reward him for admitting he is an asshole. From the very beginning, I agreed with him that it was "okay" that he was an asshole, that I would still allow him to fuck me. And his regular cop-out has often been: "Well, I am an asshole, what did you expect?"

No wonder the guy called me "stupid" and I allowed him to call me "stupid" ... because - Yes, I was willing and stupid enough to allow this snake to slither around in my life and between my thighs and inside of me time and time again, when I would get bitten and bitten and bitten again. And there is no QUESTION that he had venom in his bites because their poison was evident in my decreasing self-esteem and increasing depression as our involvement continued.

But I still couldn't figure out "Y" the snake treated me so bad? What made him feel free to be so cruel to me? Part of hanging on - was because I wanted to try to figure out his mystery, believe it or not. And then there are some times when you don't want to "believe" in evil ... that a person you feel so strongly is capable of such evil. THAT is a mind-bender!

My dear friend Chester - told me on the phone - Baby-girl, it does no GOOD to psychoanalyze that asshole. You don't ask a cannibal - WHY they eat people? They just do!

I laughed and said: Yeah, you ask the cannibal why he eats people. And he says - Get closer and maybe when I am finished with you I will let you know.