Thursday, 10 January 2013

My Life in Stalkers 4 - The Ex-Boyfriend

People from my other blogs will know all of this pretty much, so feel free to skip.

Steve was the love of my life. Really. When I met him, I was a bit wary, because he was 14 years younger than me, and we weren't very much alike, but then in other ways we sort of were. Oh, and he was living with his girlfriend. Now he SAID he was only living with her because he had nowhere else to go. But now that I know better, I'm wondering if he would ever have left her if she hadn't thrown him out when she found out about me. And I'm wondering if he tried to get her to take him back - because every story he ever told about me was a lie, so why would what he said about anyone else be true?

But back to when we met - and I had no clue that he was a psychopath/sociopath/narcissist/had antisocial personality disorder/was your common or garden complete and utter cunt (delete as appropriate - I'm not a psychiatrist). It was the 29th December 2006. By 31st December I knew I was falling in love with him. He seemed so perfect - and my friends all thought so too - really sociable, funny, entertaining, happy.

Within two weeks I was in love, and I thought he was too. I still do love that person. That person never existed.

Oh, for a while it was all perfect. Then in February 2007 things changed. His Mum died, and he began drinking and using drugs again. He'd phone at weird times of night, lost somewhere between here and Albrighton. Or he'd phone from outside a pub, incoherent, with no way to get home, so I'd go and find him and take him home. One time he was supposed to be babysitting for his sister (he was living with her by then) and he wasn't answering his phone so she phoned me. Of course, I went to the rescue. I found him passed out on the floor behind the front door. When I got in (luckily I knew where the spare key was kept), and roused him, he was vile, kept trying to punch me, but again, I thought it was all due to his mum dying. Even though he said, 'I really don't care that she's dead. I feel nothing.' Sociopaths always tell you what they are, but mostly we don't hear them until it is too late.

And as time went on, he didn't get better, he got worse. I'll save the details of the various beatings for another post or series of posts, because I find it quite triggering, so for purposes of this post, it's only necessary to say that what began as verbal abuse and maybe pushing, pulling and intimidatory door-punches gradually became hair-pulling, slapping and shaking. Usually out of jealousy - and by jealousy I mean really STUPID jealousy. The night we first split up, he attacked me because I'd talked to some people who were outside smoking when he went for a smoke. He was right next to me. They were a mixed group of men and women. He joined in the conversation. I didn't know him well enough then or I would have sensed the warning signs.

We were away for the weekend, and when we got back to the hotel, he just laid into me. Pushed me against the wall, took hold of my head and kept banging it against the wall as he yelled at me. Then he grabbed my arm and threw me to the ground, face down, but he was still pulling my arm up behind me. I was terrified, I could feel my shoulder was going to dislocate or something, because he had his body fixing my legs. Then with my other hand I was able to grab my stilletto boot. I started hitting him with the heel until he let my other arm go, then I rolled over, and anger took hold of me. I didn't stop. I kept on hitting him, as hard as I could, backing him out of the room, then I slammed it shut on him and locked it. I couldn't believe the state I was in. I didn't know where he went and I didn't care.

He came back in the early hours of the morning, and I let him back in, because I'd need to drive us home anyway. He slept a little bit, and when he woke up in the morning he had no idea why he was covered in little round bruises. But I finished it. Went to Sue's house and told her what had happened, and she said she thought it was for the best. Showed her my arm.

He kept ringing, wanting to talk to me, but I wouldn't take the calls. So he started calling Sue, I think he even went around her house, crying and saying how much he loved me. She believed him, she said she thought he really meant it, and that maybe he was worth another chance. So I gave him one. On condition he stopped drinking. Which he did, for a while.

Then slowly it was back on ordinary lager, then back on Special Brew, then back on heroin. By this time he was working away, and cheating on me. I found out, and dumped him. Yet even though he was living in the Lake District, he began a concerted effort to get me back. He'd come down here at weekends, find me in pubs, be talking to me wanting to get back together - seconds before his girlfriend phoned him.

Not for the last time, I became the 'other woman' - because I fell for the lies again. this time my friends didn't, and they all thought I was mad. He eventually dumped the girlfriend, came back to live here, we got back together properly, and all was well for another 18 months. Well - he still hit me, but it had become the norm. I no longer told friends about it, it wasn't worth it. I blogged about it. There were some hideous times, but I'll do those another day.

Then he cheated again. For me, this was really the end, and all the years that followed were just me crapply extricating myself. The whole 'Deb' thing was insane, I'll separately blog it too, because it is insane FUNNY. Ditto 'Sophie'. And through both we still got back together, time and again. And the violence was always escalating, and it was always over one of two things - he would be jealous for no reason, or I would want to finish it. A good beating would leave me mentally unable to end it.

December 2010 I finally prosecuted him (another separate story). This was when the stalking started big time. Whenever we had split in the past, he would come to the house at night and try to talk to me. He'd throw stones at my windows, bang on doors and windows, generally be a nuisance until I spoke to him. Now that I wouldn't, he escalated things. He would come into the house when I was at work using the spare key I'd given him. He would move things. He used the phone. He stole my pants.

So I changed the locks AGAIN (I am one of the few people I know who has a locksmith's number in their phone!). February 2011 I gained a two year restraining order (yes, it shits me up that it is running out soon). It made no difference, but it did mean I could phone the Police.

So at one point he decided to wear masks when spying on me. I tell you, it is terrifying to look up and see Batman staring in at you. He wouldn't try to speak to me, he would just move around my garden furniture in the night. Or leave cans of Special Brew in the middle of my drive. He'd left a pile of bricks by the side of the house - I cannot count the amount of times that pile has moved.

On the day of the Royal Wedding, I was having a little party here. My ex-husband and his family came, and left their car on my drive cos they both wanted to drink. When everyone had gone, about 7.30, I got a text saying, 'Uve gotta b kidin me knob at urs.' Then 'cal me'
I did call him, he said he was gonna kick in Ex-H's car and kick his head in too. I told him the reason the car was there, but he just said he was going to be here in 2 minutes. I stood outside the house, planning to head him off, but he came from a different direction to usual, ran at the car and started kicking it in. Completely trashed the one side of it before I dragged him off.
He pushed into the house, was alternately crying, trying to hug me and saying he loved me, then becoming violent and shouting what a cow I was, pulling down my party decorations and throwing things. Then he said, 'I'm off with Johnny to score heroin', and staggered off.
I spent the rest of the night giving a statement to the Police. 
And still the stalking didn't stop. A couple of weeks later, there was a knock on my door, not at the usual time he would call, yet it was still Steve, with two bags of clothes, crying.
'I love you, can I come back, please? And stay here?' !!!!! I said I'd count to ten before phoning the Police....
He sent flowers - no card, but I knew they were from him cos he used the florist he always goes to who does him deals.
One time I was at wheelchair clinic and he phoned me wanting me to come and pick him up. It's like he didn't learn that I didn't care any more. He'd turn up here drunk and beaten up, saying his phone had been stolen, and he'd expect me to be bothered. I stopped answering the door, and would talk to him out of my bedroom window.
Then on my birthday last year he overdosed on heroin, and was only saved by another junkie phoning an ambulance. He was clinically dead and had to be resuscitated. His Dad didn't want him at his house, so he brought him to me - nice birthday present! He stayed with me for a while too - I am such a bloody Florence Nightingale, and I sort of did feel responsible for him.
He got sent to prison for the vandalism and for breaking the restraining order. By the time it got to court, it was February last year. And you know what? We got back together while he was in prison. It lasted about an hour, cos when he came out he got immediately drunk, so I binned him. He slept with his best mate's girlfriend, and when he came here to get the rest of his stuff that I'd been storing, he stole loads of my clothes.
He gradually returned them, beginning a month or so later!
And since then I have been very No Contact. I refuse to engage with him. Especially after what I learned from D_ when Circus Boy was here. I now have no doubt that he was cheating on me throughout our relationship, I just didn't always know. He never wanted me, he only ever wanted to control me. He still does.
The weekend he came back from his next prison experience (Swansea) for shoplifting and breaking the terms of his license, he came around - he'd phoned me immediately he was released. It was a week after Dad died. I am sure he wanted to see if I was with Circus Boy. He started throwing up in the drive as we were talking, and said he was throwing up blood. He was. I called the ambulance and he was taken to hospital. 
Next day he phoned me ranting and raving how had I dared call the ambulance, now he was stuck in hospital, how was he going to get back, what was I going to do about it? Erm, how about nothing?
I was snoozing later in the day, when someone walked in through the back door. It was Steve. He sat on my sofa as though this was perfectly normal and started talking about what we were going to do for the evening! I was so shocked, at first I just sat there listening as he said how he'd walked out of the hospital, and walked here. I said shouldn't he go back as he may be seriously ill, I'd give him a lift? He refused, said he didn't care, but he was hungry.
I suggested a curry, cos an idea was forming. I pretended to phone the curry house, but said the delivery number wasn't working, so we walked down. As we waited for the curry we ordered, I said I'd nip to the offie for some booze, I wouldn't be a minute. I ran home like the wind! Locked the door, but he didn't come back. Probably took the extra curry round to one of his other hapless women.
He turned up just before New Year, and I stayed very calm because Son was in the house, and Son hates him. He was trying to find out what I was doing on New Year's Eve. But he went away no problem.
New Year's Eve he tried to call reverse-charge. I get the feeling his heart really isn't in this stalking lark any more!
I'm just waiting now to see what happens when the restraining order runs out. He knows I tell the Police when he contacts me - though I don't press charges. He could easily be sent back to prison and he knows it. If I can get to the end of February with as little contact as this, then I'll know it's over. Fingers crossed.....

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