Before I met John I had already had a two year relationship with Pablo. A couple of years after John, Pablo and I gave another go at it and spent 4 more years together. He was my first (and third) boyfriend. I had "fallen in love" with him, lived with him and a couple years in, he cheated on me (which hurt like hell) and I insisted we split up. When I started going out with John, Pablo seemed to be very rankled as though it was alright for him to go off having flings but not me. Somehow, I got more attractive to him once he found I had feelings for someone else. I think we were both a little immature to be shacked up at 18 (looking back anyway) but we did exercise those heady feelings of the love at the beginning, the stagnation that comes with familiarity (if you let it) and finally the deceipt, betrayal and separation. So why was it so different with John? I honestly don't know. It is as if there is a different kind of love, more powerful than the run-of-the-mill "falling in love", which I would call Poisonous Love. You know, it's what Glenn Close had in "Fatal Attraction". Well, that's what I had, and it's a good thing I don't have a murderous bone in my body.
Here's a couple Glenn Close moments I remember. It is so shame filling to admit that I did these things. We had been together less than a month when I had to work the evening shift and he went up to West Hollywood with Joe. When I got home, I rang him and there was no answer. I called every ten minutes or so until the morning and there was never an answer. This is long before cell phones. I was convinced that he had cheated (already) just like my last. (I'm chuckling now, because in fact, he had) The next day I went to his house, and there was a guy there who had "just stopped by" and was visibly shaken by my presence. My peabrain did not want to connect the dots, but in reality this guy was just leaving from the night over and the phone had been unplugged. Another time, I took his house key "by mistake" and then rummaged through his apartment while he wasn't there. I didn't find any evidence except a card, ready to mail to an old friend up in San Francisco. I steamed it open with his vintage teapot and read it. The only line I remember was, "My love life is pretty much on the back burner for now." Of course I couldn't admit that I had done this. But oh how painful to read those words from the person I was poisoned with love over. God I was such a fucking idiot.
The rest is just ugliness. It was okay for a month or two more and then he basically came out and said he was cheating on me, and that he would totally understand if we broke up. (I had caught him in a lie when he confessed - with tears!- though I can't remember what the lie was) I instantly (fool!) forgave him and begged him to give it another try. A couple weeks later he told me those dreaded words - that he wasn't sexually attracted to me anymore. After he told me in person, I pleaded with him to give him one last blow job (so unbelievably humiliating to remember- though I do remember it) before I left, and he "let" me. Then I began a period of the most intense emotional pain that I have ever experienced. And it probably saved me from dying that the universe had just plopped em into my life.