The Drivel Thread

I'm in a stupor after eating a family sized bag of chips and family sized dark chocolate bar.
 
Chapter 7 CHARLIE
It was Charlie that beckoned me away from Mike unwittingly. Not right away, but eventually, after I found out what a fraud Mike was. At first, in school, Charlie would come on but I'd rebuff him, being monogamous. We hung out like that for a few months, during breaks, just being chummy. As Mike kept ignoring me, my faith in our relationship weakened, and one day, Charlie came down the hall toward me, dropped his briefcase, picked me up and slid me down against his crotch. I was ashamed, because my faith was so weak at that point that I succumbed to desire for Charlie.

Shortly after that, I lost touch with Charlie because I quit school to get a job to impress Mike. But after I found out just how much Mike was lying to me, I began to get back in touch with Charlie. I visited him, and he needed a roommate, so I moved in with him. Perfect! Although I adored him at that point, I didn't expect him to be mine. I still let him know that I was attracted to him by flirting with him though. For instance, I showed him pictures of naked women in an adult magazine. That led to us having rough sex, which isn't my preference. At the time, though, I thought that having sex was forging a connection. Mike still wasn’t letting me go, and I would end up turning to him for shelter when Charlie would become violent. Mike would pressure me to have sex with him on his waterbed. I would usually give in, though the magic was gone.

One day Charlie and I visited my friend Janice, and Charlie was all over her and ignored me. Eventually Charlie left both of us, and Janice and I wept together at the sordidness of them flirting so heavily with one another. Then I went home and just laid in bed numb, until Charlie got home and he initiated sex with me. But I was too numb, so I hardly felt it, plus I figured it was pity sex, dispassionate, so I didn't savor it.

I had a waitressing job, and one of my coworkers got the boss to fire me and hire her daughter. It turned out that he'd done me a favor, because the bartender and I kept in touch and he told me the enterprise had folded, and everyone's check bounced.

I found another job. I was desperate because I didn't want Charlie's living arrangements to be disturbed, so I had to come up with regular rent payments. I did what my girlfriend Mona and I used to do, look at the ads for go-go dancers. Only, we used to laugh at them. This time, without Mona, I was seriously looking at these ads. I called about one, and then I went to the address I was given. I peeked into the office, and the people I saw didn't look like monsters, so I went in and met the owner of the agency. He was gregarious and nice. He took a picture of me in my bikini ( I refused a nude.) and let me use a tanning bed.

I started my seven years as a stripper that night. I met our driver at a metro station and he drove a bunch of us out to the club in Dorval. I was treated very well there, apart from one jealous stripper. The bouncer was really nice, and no touching was allowed. Back then, there were no lap dances. It was just table dances, where no touching's allowed. I was doubling as a cocktail waitress. I found getting on stage and dancing to three songs I'd choose from the jukebox (two fast and then one slow) to be easy and even enjoyable. Dancing at tables for $5 a song was alright too.

I was making decent money, but I sensed Charlie didn't want me around, so I accepted an offer to work for a week in Ontario for more money. The week went very well. I called home each day, and Charlie's friend Mark would answer, giving me a different excuse for Charlie being unavailable each time. At the end of my week, I signed on for another week in Ontario, at another club, thinking that I could take a hint, that Charlie still didn't want me around. I went to a flea market with a customer called Peter, who was very nice. I bought a whole bunch of stuff to decorate the apartment back in Montreal, and Peter took me to couple’s house for dinner.

When I got back to my hotel, I called Charlie to deliver the good news that I'd be away for at least another week, and Mark answered as usual, only he said something unexpected. He said “Charlie's had an accident, and we didn't want to tell you and disturb your work week, but I'm telling you now because your week's finished. It was bad. The doctor says he's never going to walk again.”

I couldn't take it in. I hung up, fluffed my pillow, and aimed to resume enjoying my nice hotel bed. But I couldn't relax, and after a few seconds, I admitted to myself what had just been relayed to me. Then I called around to find out what my options were, to get back to Montreal so late at night. The only one was to pay a taxi driver to take me there. So I packed up all my flea market knickknacks into the taxi and soon I was home. Mark drove me to the hospital and another Sharon was there, another girlfriend of Charlie's. It turned out he had a punctured lung, a severed spinal cord, and the prognosis was that he was permanently paralyzed.

For some reason, I bought the new U2 album War on vinyl and when I brought it into the hospital room, the other Sharon was there with the same album! She was standoffish with me, and later, when Charlie finally came home, I walked in on her and Charlie having a bath together, only I didn't know she was there. I was using the toilet, and thought Charlie was alone behind the curtain. But she asked if I had a cigarette. I smoked back then, and smoothly gave her and Charlie cigarettes, had one myself, and said nothing to her about her having broken my pink ceramic heart. I was absolutely forgiving, though Charlie had told me that she'd broken it to spite me. After that bathroom scene, Charlie told me he sent the other Sharon away, because she made him choose between us, and I didn't. I really wasn't a possessive person. Never have been.

One morning, I made Charlie and myself breakfast. He said "How did you know this was my favorite breakfast?" and then slapped me hard across my face. I looked at him, questioningly, and he didn't provide an answer, and I thought to myself that he's just lost his ability to walk, have sex, even control his excrement, so it's no wonder he's crazy. I went back to eating. Then he slapped me again. I couldn't smile at work after that, and I stopped making money.

Another stripper, Angie, befriended me, and introduced me to prostitution. We did a guy together, and he gave us cocaine. He wanted to f*** me rather than Angie, because her body showed signs of having had a child. Mine was nubile at the time. So he sent Angie away and kept me, plying me with cocaine. Eventually he had to get ready for work in the morning, and I asked him for one more hit of cocaine. He refused, and when he called me I declined to see him again, because it had felt brutal to be actively hooked on a drug and have it coldly withheld.

At the seedier club I began to work in ( I felt I wasn't good enough for the original decent club I worked at.), I met a customer that called me a witch, and stupidly, I took it as a compliment. I ended up visiting him at his home, for a hundred dollars. He gave me coke too. He turned out to be a dealer, and he had loads of it. He kept a candy jar of it on the coffee table in his living room. He'd leave the room, leaving me alone with it. I never stole any though.

We fooled around a bit. Nothing heavy. No one climaxed. There was no penetration. I was able to pay the bills with Charlie. The only reason I prostituted myself was to ensure that Charlie would not go without phone, electricity, and a roof over his head. I didn't prostitute much. It was just a blip here and there. But I tell you, I couldn't smile after Charlie hit me, and I couldn't make any significant money stripping consistently without being able to smile.

I went to Oshawa, Ontario, to strip dance at Bobby Joe's with Angie, and Angie pleaded my case with the fellow stripper who hated my guts, who had come too. Angie told her that I was living with a guy in a wheelchair, and she softened towards me. We all lived in a house while working at Bobby Joe's. There were a few bunk beds to a room.

Angie ended up selling me out one day, at a club in Iberville, Quebec. The club manager had given us drinks, and I went to the discotheque next door at the strip club's closing time. The strip club manager followed me there, and I sensed a predatory nature in his behavior, so I ran through the snow in my high heels to the motel room I shared with Angie. I locked the door and went to bed, and woke up propped up on my knees getting pumped by the manager. I was too stunned to protest. It turned out, he'd spiked my drink, and bribed Angie with coke to let him in. Some friend she turned out to be.

I went off on my own to work in various Canadian locations. Sarnia, Kingston, Oshawa, Markham, Mississauga. I worked at a club called Cheaters in Toronto. The owner Pat said I wouldn't have to dance if I'd be his mistress. I declined, because I didn't feel sexually attracted to him. I stripped at his club instead. I met a wonderful man there. He'd come in regularly and have me table dance for him. He had a lovely, appreciative way of watching me. One day he drove me home, and asked if I wanted to smoke a joint with him or go out to dinner with him. Stupidly, I declined because I considered myself to be monogamous, and I'd just started seeing someone else, who didn't deserve my loyalty, it turned out.

I'd met him ( I forget his name.) at a subway station. He was a musician, and brought me to the basement of a strip mall he and his buddies rented to practice in. He would always call one of his friends 'herpes'. One day, we had some lewd sex in the bathroom, and I developed a rash. I took public transit to find him at the practice spot, and asked him if he had herpes. He immediately admitted that he'd taken a bubble bath at his grandmother's place and had noticed a rash once. Well, I knew it was his sheepish way of admitting to me that he'd given me herpes. I left, never speaking to him again.

In the clinic I went to about the rash, I read pamphlets about herpes, and then I went to a library, and read that a third of women can fight off the virus, eradicate it from their systems. You probably won't be able to find that written anywhere these days. I suspect it's unpopular knowledge because the excuse when a partner has been unfaithful and carries a disease is that old line "herpes lurks dormant inside and so you must have had it all along", so no one has to admit to having been disloyal. Well, I turned out to be one of the third of women who can fight herpes off. At least that strain, and later, I was infected again, and fought it off again. I'll get to that later. The same strain? Two different ones? My system fought them off, at any rate.

The regular customer that drove me home is the person I miss most, it turns out, after The Dancer/Morrissey. He was so gentle and kind, warm, and really enticing. Me and my morals ( misplaced monogamy). I don't even know his name, though I remember asking him what it was and him telling me. To dance naked for someone, and feel comfortable about it, is something very special. It's sacred. I believe he was the love of my life, after The Dancer/Morrissey. And I passed him by for a scoundrel that called another guy 'herpes' while he himself spread the virus.

For a year or two, I warned anyone I'd have sex with that I had herpes before we'd have sex. I figured people would then naturally choose not to have sex with me, but that was never the case. No one contracted the disease from me, and I never had another outbreak, so eventually I decided I didn't have the disease.

Decades later I would be re-infected by a guy I’ll call Robert. He was the sometimes roommate, sometimes boyfriend of a friend. I used to walk her dog for five bucks or so when she had to work, and sometimes we spent time together. On one such occasion, Robert was giving me attention that made my friend (Christine) jealous. She asked me to leave, but Robert pursued contact with me behind her back, and fed me a story that she was abusive toward him.

Christine had told me that he could be sadistic but I didn't listen. Well he left her 'for' me and proved her right. Another red flag I didn't heed was seeing him carry a steak on a fork, dripping blood onto the patio, with a grin on his face.

Christine called and threatened me, but I stood by Robert, and pretty soon she was waiting for me in the backyard where my basement suite entrance was. She punched me in the eye, and made me see stars. She gave me quite the shiner. Then she grabbed my head and I wound up on the ground with her fingers threatening to claw at my eyes. I said "Robert, would you get her off me please?" He did. I moved into an apartment with him soon after that.

While I was living with Robert, he wouldn't let me sleep on my own. I would have left and gone to a shelter to get away from his controlling behavior, but I had my dog, Sleepy, and I didn't know of a shelter where I could take him with me. So I stayed, until a certain point, which I will get to.

One day Robert did something unusual. He went down on me. It was just his stubble rasping against the inside of my labia though. Then, he wanted to mount me doggie style. I was enjoying watching his shadow on the wall. He turned off the lamp, and then there was no shadow. I told him I was enjoying watching his shadow, and turned the lamp back on. His body language in the shadow was that of a guilty man, I noticed distinctly.

The next morning, I found out why he did me the 'favor' of rasping my labia. It was so that I'd succumb to a herpes transmission! It was a painful rash, unlike the first time I contracted the disease. A different strain I guess. He refused to let me see his penis for days, until I'd been to the STD clinic several times. The diagnosis was inconclusive. When he finally let me see it, his penis shaft was covered in the exact same rash of blisters my inner labia was.

He eventually came to the clinic with me, and we were told not to have any more sex until the rashes cleared up, because otherwise it could spread to my cervix. Luckily, he couldn't get his stubble up there to make me succumb to his contagiousness. However, what he promptly did upon hearing he could infect my cervix, was rape me. He forced himself into me, overpowering my resistance. Thankfully, he didn't manage to infect my cervix, but it wasn't for lack of trying.

I went to social services and applied for an emergency grant to get my own apartment. The social worker took his time, so I went to an advocate. She got the social worker to grant me the emergency fund, and I moved. Robert got an apartment right across the street from my new place. Stupidly, I stayed friends with him for a while.

So, again, I was warning people that I had herpes. One person, really, because I only had one lover for a few years after leaving Sean. Alwyn was his name. He didn't worry about it, and he didn't get it, and I had no further outbreaks. So again, my system fought it off.

Alwyn ran into traffic once laughing, with my dog pulling on the leash to join him. I was too stupid to stop crushing on him then. Another time, we were sitting in a park with our matching bikes lying beside us on the grass. He leaned my bike up and gestured to hand it over to me, but as I reached for it, he let it fall. He smirked. I'll never forget that. More on Alwyn later. Or maybe I'll tell you now, how I met him.

I took an employment orientation course, at Vancouver Community College, King Edward campus, and Alwyn was my fellow student, who was pretty standoffish at first, but eventually invited me on a lengthy bike ride to Iona beach. Afterwards, at my apartment, we fooled around on my bed. I already had a boyfriend, Chris, whom at that time I had no feeling for, but I was a monogamous person, and knew that if I had sex with someone else, then I would tell Chris. So I held off from penetration with Alwyn, telling him that I had to clear it with Chris first.

Shortly afterward, I told Chris I’d met someone I was interested in having a relationship with. I thought he’d be glad, unburdened actually, but instead he reacted very badly to the news. He threatened to hunt the new guy down and hurt him, if I didn’t stay with himself. Stupidly, I did stay, so Alwyn wouldn’t be in danger, but I began to act as deliberately boring as I possibly could, and also became extremely flirtatious with other men, because it confused him as to which one posed a threat, if there were so many of them. To take the heat off Alwyn.

Eventually Chris did ask himself why he was holding onto someone who is so boring, and he let me go. Suddenly, all the feelings I’d been numbing around Chris sprung to life, and I couldn’t handle it. I wasn’t used to acknowledging, never mind indulging my feelings anymore. It was like being in zero gravity, and then having to suddenly deal with gravity again. So I went hog wild, trying to get laid. I started working at a telephone solicitation company, and going to another employment orientation course (this one was just for women), and I was falling asleep during class because I was partying with the solicitation crew after hours, along with going to school all day and working in the evenings, and trying to get laid at night.

I had trouble getting laid. There was one guy in a bar in Gastown, who tried to have sex with me in a stall in the men’s bathroom. I was that desperate. He plowed into my cervix and it hurt, and we stopped. That was the end of that. I came on to all the company men, and eventually scored, with one of them one night in my bedroom. He had blood in his urine and thought he may have had a broken rib or two somehow. I had paramedics come to check him out.

The next night, the crew was calling me in the middle of the night when I’d told them not to call me after 9 or 10. They kept calling, until I lied that I’d gotten back together with my ex boyfriend and he didn’t appreciate me getting these calls.

I went to a counselor at the college, to talk about how out of control my sexual appetite was, and we talked about how Chris had treated me. The counselor put on a mini play for me, pretending to be me and then pretending to be Chris, back and forth. He made me laugh. He was so on the money! I was astonished. I can’t explain why, but that helped me to calm down, and get a hold of myself. I quit the telephone solicitation job, the employment orientation course ended, and I got a puppy.

Eventually I would reconnect with Alwyn, but it would take years.
 
Last edited:
I wrote that several months ago, and just made a small but significant (to me at least) edit.
 
I know it's all sordid, and needs work. It's not polished by any means. But it's something no?
 
o_O
what type of poor housing dwelling is this FFS:straightface:
the kitty is not going to put his life in danger without the kitty food being presented.
he is taking in the odds of the poor dwelling collapsing before he gets to the kitty food:hammer:
 
The school shooting
He said it's what's happening every day
In KFC
But no chickens are evil
Whereas sometimes
Some children are
That's the difference
A difference
But angelic children
What about angelic chickens
I just know
That when I thought it was the end for me
In came peanut butter and jam on toast
And hot tea
With a listening ear
Taking notes
And it felt humane
 
Chapter 8 SLEEPY

I went to Surrey by bus, after calling the classified ad about 11 German Shepherd/Rottweiler cross puppies being available free to a good home. I spent a good hour in the snowy backyard of a family with kids, a beautiful calm female Rottweiler, and 11 five week old pups, trying to decide which puppy to choose. One then bit my finger playfully, looking at me cheekily, and I decided “You’re the one!”. I took it to the bus stop, and it started howling, and I thought it’d keep howling on the bus, and we’d have to take a taxi. But I saw the bus was coming, put him in my knapsack, folded the flap over the top, got on the bus, sat down with the knapsack on my lap, and the pup was absolutely quiet. I lifted the flap and saw it was sleeping. So I named it Sleepy. Later, I took it to Chris’s place (We’d become platonic friends. I know, I was stupid.), and we saw Sleepy was male. Chris was good with Sleepy, I have to admit. Credit where credit's due.

Chapter 9 RICHARD

I met Richard while at a park with Sleepy, with other dogs and their owners, including Richard, and his dog Charlie. Richard drove Sleepy and I home, and later the four of us went on a date, walking along the beach, and then Richard stopped to buy The Joy of Cooking book, which we used at his apartment to make grilled veggie kabobs. We had sex that night on Richard's bed, but not before Sleepy did what I’d taught him to do, which was to climb into bed with me, like he’d climb into the bed Chris and I slept together (platonically at that point) on.

Richard did not take kindly to Sleepy stepping up onto his bed, and pummeled him. I should have walked out on Richard with Sleepy then, but I let it go and continued on with my lust for Richard. We slept together, Richard and I, and in the morning Richard noticed that Sleepy had taken his favorite wooden paintbrush out of his toolbox and chewed the handle. He was sure Sleepy had done it to spite him, but I knew that Sleepy was in the habit of chewing unvarnished pieces of wood and I encouraged him to. Richard judged Sleepy to be spiteful and that was that.

One day, Richard came over to my apartment and we had sex, and then afterwards we sat on the couch together and he told me he was angry at his ex, Allison, and his anger was spilling into our relationship, so he needed to separate from me for a couple of months.

I gave him plenty of berth, not wanting to step on his toes, but he lived in the same neighborhood as Chris, whom I was friends with, so I was passing by Richard's apartment one day on my way to Chris's, where another friend awaited me, Dean. Dean and I were planning on going to a gym or something that evening.

Richard just happened to be standing outside the house talking on the stoop with his next door neighbor, when he saw me and immediately excused himself to come greet me. He kissed my forehead. Because I didn’t want Richard to feel manipulated into seeing me, I meant to reassure him when I told him I was planning on going to the gym with a friend. The blood drained out of my face as I realized that it must have sounded like I was covering up having slept with someone else. I didn’t have the communication skills necessary to clarify that my relationship to Dean was platonic, so Richard started giving me the cold shoulder.

I went to visit him, longing for him, umpteen times, and silently wished he’d realise I hadn’t cheated on him, but he never did. Years went by like that. I got together with Sean, and called Richard, bawling my eyes out over the phone about how miserable I was with Sean. Then the three of us met in Deserts restaurant on Commercial Drive, and I put on an act in front of Sean that everything was A-okay. I’m not sure at this point why I did that. I’m guessing it was because I was afraid he’d take it out on Sleepy if he knew how I’d cried on the phone to Richard.

When I had moved into my own apartment, Richard used my storage locker for some big item. I don’t remember what it was, but I do remember saying to him that prostitutes were doing their John’s in the laundry room, and Richard tutted that I surely was no stranger to prostitution. The friend he was with chastised him.

The locker cost 10 dollars a month to occupy, and I really couldn’t afford to pay the fee myself. I called Richard to ask for the fee one month, and he begrudgingly came and took whatever it was out of the locker.

It took me many years to get over losing Richard’s affection. I still dream about him sometimes, and in the dreams I’m always trying to impress him.
 
Various chapters:

CHAPTER 10
Getting Back In Touch With Alwyn

The way that I got back in touch with Alwyn was that after I left Robert, and noticed I didn’t have any recurrences of the herpes rash Robert went out of his way to give me, I called him up. We got together at a party in a space in the downtown east side I’d been invited to. No smoking was allowed, but he lit up. I sure knew how to pick the winners back then didn’t I?

We ended up seeing each other regularly. I warned him that I had herpes, but he didn’t care. I never did have another outbreak, and Alwyn never contracted anything. One day we went to a party and he was all over another woman. I didn’t try to stop him. Like I said, I’ve never been possessive. We all went to her apartment a few days later. Alwyn, his friend Richard, and I. Then we went to a bar in Yale town, where everybody was nude. It was unremarkable. It was okay.

While Alwyn pursued this woman, he gave permission to his friend Richard to pursue a relationship with me, but when Alwyn saw it wasn’t going to pan out for him, he took the generosity back, and told Richard that he couldn’t have me. I sure knew how to pick ‘em. Alwyn would regularly pace around my apartment jingling the change in his pockets, waiting for his fellow student (an Asian girl with a BMW) to call him. He was again in hot pursuit.

Alwyn and I would ride our matching bikes and Sleepy would be attached to my bike with a leash. Sleepy would pull me furiously to keep up with Alwyn. Other times, we’d go on a community pancake breakfast and community cleanup. I met a guy named Brian there. He developed a crush on me I think, and had a photography session taking portraits of me in black and white. Brian and I worked together with other people to build a community garden on Wall street. Eventually Brian would help me move to a basement suite, along with Alwyn.

I remember when 911 happened. I happened to be looking at the TV, and it was astonishing. Shortly after that I moved into a basement suite of a house. New Year’s Eve rolled around and the two weeks leading up to it, Alwyn was with me all the time. But come New Year’s Eve, and not even a phone call. The next morning I was out walking in the ice cold weather, feeling utterly cold about Alwyn. When he finally did get in touch, he told me he’d been at a party. I never did get any feeling back about him. I rejected his affections.

He went to China to teach English, and one day he came back to Vancouver and knocked on my door. He was like an octopus. I had to keep peeling him off me. Then he left to go hang out with Richard, and came knocking again later, asking from outside the door if he could stay the night. I knew he was an octopus and refused him entry. He said “Sharon, you’re not doing yourself any favors.” That’s the last I heard from him.


CHAPTER 11
BILL

I met Bill at an art studio for mental health consumers. At the time, my diagnosis was major depression. My libido led the way as always. Thank goodness it’s about 1% today, of what it used to be. It got me into a lot of trouble. I brought Bill to my apartment and we embarked on a sexual relationship.

One day I was riding my bike in the blinding sunshine, and I was cutting through a parking lot and didn’t see the speed bump ahead of me because the sun’s reflection on it was so bright it looked flat. I had a bad fall, and for a few days I couldn’t lift my right arm enough to reach my nose.

When I next saw Bill, I told him what had happened, and he went on and on about the fact that I hadn’t worn a helmet. He droned on about it all night. We didn’t have sex that night. There was no good vibe, no tenderness, just Bill nagging, the whole night.

I spent a few weeks without him because that night had been so disappointing. Then we got together again and the same thing happened. So I spent some more weeks away from him. Then we got together one more time as a couple, and the result was the same. That was it for me. I’d had it with romancing Bill. We remained friends, but I never invited him to spend the night again. I saw him a few months ago. He’s a good friend.

CHAPTER 12
Calvin

Bill invited me to join an artists’ collective. I ended up being a member and volunteering there for 8 years. During that time, I was at one of our parties in the gallery, and a new member, Calvin, asked me if I’d get out of there with him. We went to a bar, and then took a taxi to my apartment, where I told him my age, and we had quite the age difference. He was in his 20’s and I guess I was in my 30’s. He said, without prompting, that he would stay with me for a certain amount of time. I forget how long, but I think it was two years. Maybe it was two months. I doubt it. Then we began a sexual relationship.

I remember painting a portrait of him in acrylic. Anyway, soon after embarking on a relationship with Calvin, I noticed blood coming from my urethra on the toilet paper, and it was weird; I couldn’t feel any emotion. I went immediately to a clinic. I was given some medication but it didn’t help. My hands would feel terrible, until I’d drink loads of water. I had to keep my bladder full, or my hands would hurt. This went on for weeks. I’d be guzzling water at all hours.

Calvin got together with another woman in the artists' collective after a couple of months together, Nancy. I pretended Calvin and I hadn’t been an item, to give them a clear path to forge their relationship. I think they’re still together and it’s been well over ten years. Eventually I could stop guzzling water. My hands stopped hurting.

I felt awful, letting go of Calvin, but I knew it was the right thing to do. Nancy was around his age. But then I met Darrin.


CHAPTER 13
DARRIN

I first saw Darrin on the street. Next time, it was in the library. We were using the computers. He had innocent looking blue eyes that blew me away. He made masks out of sheets of plastic, and he had a huge toy collection. One day we were having sex and he was hurting my skin with his grip, so I moved his hand. He yelled that I was being controlling, and stormed off.

He had another girlfriend, it turned out. Christine. I recognized her on the bus, and was friendly with her. We went to her apartment and talked about Darrin. He had a problem controlling his rage. He said he was autistic. Usually, first thing in the morning, he would yell bitterly for half an hour. It was hard to take. It would take me weeks to recover from those tantrums. Once he barged off when I wasn’t having his tantrum, and he overturned the recycling bin, breaking glass bottles.

One day I’d had enough, when he’d left a note on my door to call him, and when I did, he passed the phone to Christine, and she told me to “quit meddling”. He came around after that asking if we could be friends. He invited me, as a fellow artist, to come to his new artists' gathering place he was trying to create. It turned out, he came on to me there, and when I declined, he pouted, saying “What do I have to do, rent a prostitute?” I just wanted to get out of there. The bolt of the door was hard to figure out, but I made it out before I had time to panic.

Before Darrin and I broke up for good, I developed what’s known as lichen sclerosis. I treated it with thyme oil. I drooled in pain, but it cured me. I’m sure it had nothing to do with Darrin. I believe it was caused by mold.
 

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