For the record, Digger and FTN have opened quite the can of worms.
Anyways... On with the drama...
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Once upon a time there was a girl. She had some [ahem] mental health issues. More than one person has brought up the words 'borderline personality disorder'.
In the beginning, though, I didn't know that. In the beginning, Darmok* seemed like a nice person.
Truth be told, she is a nice person. But, well, it's complicated.
We lived together. We spent time together. We grew to be friends.
It started innocuously enough. Darmok's a competitive person. So am I. We'd go out as a group and she'd laughingly tell everybody how the bouncer had asked her for ID, but not me. She'd point out to everybody in the room that her breasts were much bigger than mine, that mine were (in fact) pretty much non-existent. She'd tell people (friends, acquaintances, random strangers...) that I was a virgin. I learned not to trust her. We continued to live together, to hang out together, but I kept her at arm's length. Or, well, I thought I did.
She knew I was a virgin. Well, knew that I claimed to be. She went to my best friend and told her that it was 'physically impossible' to be a virgin at my age (roughly 28 at the time). She used this as proof that I was a liar. If ever I said anything to her that she was unsure of, she reminded herself that I’d already proven myself to be untrustworthy.
I had body issues long before I met Darmok, but she nurtured them. She fed and watered all my little areas of self-loathing. And she was good. It’s a skill. Objectively, I can’t believe I fell for it, but I’m still not free of all the crap she told me about who I was and what was wrong with me. And it was always disguised as sympathy or concern. She wanted to help me.
Writing it out like that, it doesn’t seem like anybody would be stupid enough to buy it. But I did. It’s been more than a year since I recognised it and turned my back. But I still haven’t managed to cut all the ties of her hold on me.
Once we went away for the weekend. There were supposed to be a group of us, but the rest cancelled at the last minute. As we drove to Montreal, we talked about this, that and the other. Work… The house... The dogs... People we knew... Things we'd done... I mentioned a guy we knew.
The change in her attitude was instant and palpable. 'I would appreciate it', she said through firmly clenched teeth, 'if you didn't mention his name. Not after what you did'.
What?
She tersely explained that what I had done was inexcusable and that she never wanted to discuss it again.
But what had I done?
Eventually, she explained that I'd 'stolen him' from her. Just when they were on the verge of something really wonderful, I'd gone and seduced him. After a brief fling, I'd tossed him aside. But first, of course, I'd poisoned him against her.
What the hell was she talking about? I'd never had a fling with him. In her mind, denying it was proof of my guilt.
I told her I hadn't stolen him from her. 'Of course not', she exclaimed. I couldn't steal him; he wasn't a possession. She said that my speaking of him as a possession objectified him and offended her. She said she wouldn't stand for me speaking of him that way.
I tried to assure her that I’d never had a fling with him, never been romantically involved with him in any way, and never wanted to. No way. Her mind was made up; my guilt was written in stone. Never mind that the guy in question wasn’t interested in either of us; he already had a girlfriend. That was irrelevant.
Confused, I changed the subject.
She brings this guy up frequently. Roughly half the time she tells people that I maliciously stole his attentions away from her. The other half of the time she tells people that he and I had a really good thing, and she doesn't understand why I pushed him away.
Another time she accused me of having sent her hate mail by e-mail. She would not divulge the contents of the message(s), but insisted that they were inflammatory, menacing, and physically threatening. Of course, when she made her accusation, two years had passed since the alleged incident. Apparently, there was no return address, no sender name and no signature in the e-mail, but — she said — she had proof that the messages originated from my computer.
Many months later, she told me that she didn’t understand why the police had never arrested me.
Pardon?
Well, obviously, they had evidence that I was the one who had stolen the $5,000 from another friend of ours two years beforehand.
Again, pardon?
This was when I learned that, over a span of several months, she had gone to every person we both knew and told them the story of how (two years previous) I had stolen $5,000 from the bank account of a friend. Other details varied with the person she was speaking to.
Everybody’s conclusion was the same: she’s nuts. No one believed her. Everybody told me to just ignore her. And, you know, preferably to get as far away from her as one city allows.
Bad timing, though…
Two weeks beforehand we’d both started attending a new church. I’d been churchless for almost five years at this point. She had been going to a different church, but liked this one better.
I liked the church. I wasn’t about to give up on it. I’d gone five years without, and this was precisely what I’d been looking for. No way was I going to turn my back now.
We both went to the church for six months with no trouble.
Trouble doesn’t stay away from me for too long, though. Along came a guy. I really liked him. She really liked him. What he felt, nobody knows, since he had the good sense to stay out of it.
Early on, there was a party. I’m not a mingler. I don’t flit. It’s just not me. I tend to find a small group and have one ongoing conversation. Other people may jump into and out of the conversation, but I’ll stay. That night I spoke mostly (but not exclusively) with him.
Darmok, on the other hand, is a mingler. She’s bubbly, sociable, flirty and outgoing.
So there I was, talking to him. Darmok walked up, positioned herself between us. She looked from one to the other and then loudly and firmly told me that my behaviour that night had been inexcusable and pathetic. She told me — in front of him and anybody else who was in ear shot — that I’d been following him around all night like a puppy dog. She said I was disgusting that he was simply too nice to say anything.
He sheepishly changed the subject.
She e-mailed me a few days later. She said that she was concerned for our relationship. My attitude troubled her. She said she had been sexually abused as a child (something I knew already). She told me that lately, I'd been acting like her abusers, and it was causing her to have flashbacks. She was concerned for me and wanted me to accept responsibility for my actions and get help before I hurt somebody.
That was it. I told her that it was best if we avoided one another's company.
He eventually left the church because of her. I refused to.
She’s highly social. She knows everybody in the church, newcomers and long-time members. And they know her. If there’s a church event or outing, she’s there. Many of them are at her house. She cooks for most of them.
I’m not like that. I’m outgoing, but somewhat socially inept. I know the names of most people, but haven’t exchanged more than a few words with them. I’m loud. I’m tall. Everybody knows my face. Not many people know me.
I rarely talk to her anymore. I try to avoid her altogether. Every now and then, though, she catches me. And in those moments, she’s verbally staked her claim on every guy I might potentially take an interest in. An established relationship could withstand her assault. Perhaps… But it definitely creates the sort of environment where it’s difficult to get past initial introductions.
I don’t want to leave the church. I like my church. I haven’t left because I’m stubborn. I didn’t want to let her win.
But as I write this, I’m thinking ‘maybe it’s time’.
*Yes, that Darmok.
