Today‘s dress is from a brand called Tiny. I think it’s from Goodwill in SF. The ones there were pretty high quality. I’ve been watching the latest Sex and the City series called “and just like that.” It’s not my favorite, but of course I will watch all of it.
In yesterday‘s post I alluded to a challenging relationship I was in from 2014-16. I’ll call him N.
WARNING: the following (long) story might be triggering to some and contains some disturbing information. Read accordingly and take care of your own needs.
In 2014, I had been living in San Francisco for 2 years. I had been single that entire time. I briefly had a romance with a younger guy who I got overly attached to. One day I went on Tinder, which was the dating app of the moment. It had a reputation for attracting people who only wanted sex, but I'd heard of real relationships forming, and I wondered who was on there. I was only looking for a Jewish partner, but there was no way to know for sure who was Jewish and who wasn't. I put up some pictures of myself and a little blurb saying I wanted to find someone to go with to Tomales Bay, a spot a few hours North, known for its abundant oysters. Being a good rabbi's daughter, I love oysters. I was on vacation in LA when I matched with N on Tinder. He asked me what was in Tomales Bay. "Oysters," I replied. We set a date for when I got back. I ended up taking the bus home from LA and it was a long journey. I immediately went home, changed, and went to meet N. We had discovered that we lived just 3 blocks apart, in the Tenderloin district, close to downtown. It was a somewhat sketchy area, but I liked it. It had become home to me, after a hard time searching for an apartment in an expensive city filled with tech millionaires. Money seemed to have little meaning to certain people. N worked in tech, but unbeknownst to me at the time, he was in a career transition and his financial situation was about to change for the better. I simply saw a cute Israeli-American guy who lived in a small apartment near me, and had a bunch of gadgets in his apartment. He was charming, with a slightly effeminate voice that I found endearing. He spoke without an Israeli accent, since he'd spent many formative years in LA. We went to a cider bar, and I ended up spending the night at his apartment, although I refused to sleep with him. I was lonely, and wanted to cuddle. On our first date, it had come up that he had dated transwomen. I wasn't sure what to make of that, and it did give me pause. I had more questions, but mainly I wanted to know if a cis woman like myself was of interest to him. He told me he considered himself to be "heteroflexible" and was simply attracted to femininity. We continued to date, and went to Tomales Bay just a few days later. The relationship moved quickly. He said that if he were to ask me to marry him, he was sure I'd say yes. I was a 31 year old woman, and eager to settle down. I was tired of dating, and felt I'd met someone I could relate to. His mother was a rabbi. We both wanted a Christmas tree, just for fun. But a few weeks in, he hadn't agreed to a committed relationship and I was getting impatient. We spent most nights together. He told me he needed more time. I started to get suspicious, since we were together most of the time and I didn’t understand his hesitation. One day I posted something flirty on his Facebook wall and he didn’t like that. When we went to get him a used convertible, he put another woman's name on the reference form. I'd never heard of her. I began checking his phone behind his back, mostly while he slept. I was not prepared for what I found. He had messaged dozens of transwomen on many different apps, promising them that he was different than other men. He was also involved with two other women in two different cities, Long Beach, and Cincinnati. I was shocked, but also couldn't stop reading the messages. He was a very good liar. I could have bolted then, but I didn't. I really liked this guy, and I was hopeful that he could change. It had taken me a long time to find him, and I didn't want to give up on him. We started going to couple's therapy at the methadone clinic where I was already receiving free therapy, thanks to the SF plan for uninsured residents. My therapist was a younger man, with a hipster beard. One day he shaved it off, and I realized how attractive he was. It was hard to talk to him after that. N and I continued to work on our relationship, I kept checking his phone, and a few months later, we decided to move in together. He was in a position to buy a house, although he didn't want to spend as much as SF commanded. We found a place in Excelsior, a quieter more suburban neighborhood where you could find a house for under a million dollars. I couldn't believe it. A real house, with a backyard and even a shed! A garage big enough for 2 cars! N would buy the house and I would pay him rent. We would also run an Airbnb from the bottom level of the house, but the kitchen would be shared with future guests. I worked diligently on furnishing it with second hand furniture. N was pretty cheap, and so was I. But the problems between us only got worse. The day he signed the contract on the house, I checked his phone again. On a recent trip to Israel, he had started a whole relationship with a woman who knew nothing about me. N had forced me to agree to an open relationship, but we had rules, and he had broken them. I was devastated. I found the woman on Facebook and messaged her for more information. She was also very upset. He had broken it off with her, and she'd had no idea why. He'd even told her that he lived in Israel. I had to confront him, but didn't want him to know how I got the information, so I made up a story that she had found me, and he didn't question it. I still wasn't ready to leave. I wanted the house, I wanted the relationship, and I was an expert at convincing myself that it would be OK. Once we moved in together, I thought we were finally on the right track. We traveled to the East Coast and he met my family. We went to Israel and our parents met each other, since we had my cousin's wedding to go to. I could write a novel about all the drama we had on that trip alone. When we returned, we were in bad shape. I also wasn't working, and that was a problem for him. He told me that if I didn't have a job, I couldn't continue to live there. N was also into the BDSM scene, and wanted more kink in his life. Again, I tried to be OK with it, but when he asked for a slave, I was very worried. I was never cut out for that lifestyle. We went back to couple's therapy. I started to identify N as a narcissist. He ticked all the boxes--gaslighting, love bombing, manipulation, emotional abuse, liar, cheater, and very charming and successful. When he was angry with me, he would give me the silent treatment, sometimes for hours. He’d retreat to the spare room and play video games, or watch porn. I began to realize that he was a predator. He went after vulnerable women, including transwomen, single moms, and me, someone who desperately wanted to settle down. During this time, I was sharing some of what was going on with friends, but I didn't want to listen when they told me to leave. I was addicted to him. Life without him would be worse than the hell I was in. There was no trust anymore. One of his exes wrote to warn me about him, but I turned her into the enemy. She was jealous, I thought. Everything she said was true. We planned a 9 day trip to 3 Hawaiian Islands, but we were fighting a lot. N told me he'd go on the trip, but since I still didn't have a job, I'd need to move out when we got back. He always kept an option open for things to work out, another narcissistic tactic. If I was able to find a job, then I could come back. He sent me a long list of things I'd need to change about myself in order for it to work out. I found myself a sublet, and tried to find a job. I had a temp job at Benefit Cosmetics, but I got fired. I had a hostess job at the most popular new restaurant, but I got fired. My sublet was going to end after 6 weeks, and I began to feel desperate. What would I do with no boyfriend, home, or job? I lied and told him I had a job. I made something up, and he believed me. When I came back to the house, with all my things there, I knew I needed to try harder. I was in a job hunting course. I was able to get a position in customer service for One King's Lane, the furniture and home goods company. I told N that I was switching jobs (from pretend to real one). He was confused, but didn't question me too much. I was walking on eggshells every day. I hated that job. The company was having problems, and the customers were angry. I was yelled at throughout the day, by angry people on the phone. The office was beautiful and there were lots of free snacks, but I couldn't take it. I began stealing. I was able to issue credits to customers in order to appease them, and I began issuing them to myself and using them to buy merchandise on the website. I sent about $300 worth of towels, sheets, and decorative pillows to my home. After a few weeks, I was caught. I knew I would be, but I was so unhappy in my life, that I really didn't care. I'd hit a low point. Luckily, no action was taken against me. I agreed to resign. I didn't want to tell N yet. We were about to go to Tahoe on a birthday trip with my parents. My mother thought my grandpa was dying (although it would end up being another 5 plus years before he actually passed, just this last week) and she decided to stay in Australia and not come to Tahoe. Just before the trip, I told N that I had decided to leave the job. He was upset. The three of us went to Tahoe, and N and I pretended we were OK. When we got back to SF, he broke up with me. It was July 2016, and I wouldn't end up moving out until November. In August, N asked me to leave for a week, so I reluctantly stayed with a friend. Then he went traveling, and I found a rebound relationship to be in. I was still living in our home, but I didn’t care. I also got my diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder. When N returned to SF, I went back East for my sister's wedding, without him, texting the new guy constantly. N got jealous and asked to work things out. I told the rebound that I was going back to N. N then admitted he'd flown a single mother in from Tennessee to stay at our house with him while I'd been away. He'd found her on an app and she had been his slave. I don't know exactly what she'd agreed to, but I'm sure it was degrading. He told me he didn't like the experience and that it was empty for him. I did more digging. I found out that this woman had also been in my home the month before, when he'd asked me to leave. He'd even met her parents, who lived in Sacramento. I told him about the stealing I’d done, and we went back to couple's therapy. The new therapist convinced me to move out, and I did. I found a place a few blocks away, with a roommate. I missed N, but I tried really hard to move on with my life. I went on a trip to Thailand. I got back together with the rebound guy and tried to make that work for a few months, but I was traumatized. Summer 2017 I was in Israel, leading a Birthright Trip, and I got fired from that too. The next day was my 34th birthday and I found myself alone, in Tel Aviv. I walked down the beach, crying. I went into shops, crying. I couldn't eat. As the sun began to set on the worst birthday ever, a local guy tried to pick me up. I let him buy me a drink and we went for a walk on the beach. I told him about N. He was still on my mind, although the emotion had turned to anger. He'd met someone else, and I had tried to warn her, just as I was warned. It didn't go well and I not only got blocked, but this woman's mother managed to find and contact my father about it, begging him to get me to leave her and N alone. It was humiliating. I looked up from my conversation with this Israeli guy and there was N, walking right past me with some girl (not the girl he'd been dating). I couldn't believe it. What kind of cruel joke was the universe trying to play on me? Why would he have been there, on that exact beach, at that exact moment, on my birthday? I called out his name and he looked at me with disgust and kept walking. I started shaking and had to excuse myself to go back to my friend's hotel room (which had no windows). I spent the next day crying in bed.
I do take responsibility for my part in what happened. I made a lot of mistakes. It took a lot of healing to finally get to a better place. I needed to move back home and let my parents help me. I needed to find my worth. Christmas will mark 4 years since I've been in touch with N. I rarely think about him and don't recognize the person I was then. The woman who would accept that kind of relationship. I know better now, although I'm still not ready for another relationship, after a few more failed attempts. I'd like to think there's someone out there for me, but I have to choose myself first, and always.