This is NOT a personal assault, but will be an excerpt from my second upcoming Autobiography. Hoping to get it finished soon as I can. I'm not too well right now. The clever photo is from an image I got made up of Donni's and my heads.

 

While life is all about choices, there are particular choices we make at different points in our lives, that can paint our destiny in historic ways.  Of course there are the simple choices we make each day, such as deciding what to wear, where to go shopping, what to eat, and whether to dine in or dine out that day.  Choices can also be complex such as the ones we make with regard to relationships. 

When I was a young man many eons ago, what I saw in a woman was often driven by hormones, and more often than not, I found myself more in lust than in love.  As I matured, I realized that what I required in a woman was not just driven by hormones, but by feelings of companionship and partnership.  I longed for a true partner in every sense of the word. Often, in this pursuit, I found myself looking at the world through idealistic glasses, and perhaps for one reason or another, my relationships failed. 

Perhaps what we expected from one another in the partnership was an ideal that neither of us was capable of delivering, or expectations that neither of us could possibly live up to.

 

A man drinks, but just because he drinks a bit more than the average man, why can’t a woman accept this?  Could it be that I was just not meant for this type of thing called a relationship? Perhaps I was just too selfish in my own lifestyle and could not share myself or my time with anyone.  Possibly, but nonetheless, I kept trying.  Got married, it did not last long, a few months, had a divorce.  Then once again, a bit later in life, I partnered with a woman I believed I was in love with.  I even fathered children with her to emphasize our bond of faith and partnership.  However, once again, my own ambitions, or lack of any, the need for drink (necessary under my circumstances) and my life’s path led me in one direction, while my partner meandered in another direction.  I was left to my own devices, so of course went to the pub where my ‘drinking mates’ were.  In the end, the marriage was doomed for failure, and ended up in a second divorce.

 

Divorce is a strange process.  Here we are, at one moment, two complete strangers thrown together by what we would like to believe is faith, with some things in common, and total commitments to one another. Then, in what seems to be just a moment of time later, although it was not long after our second child was very young, in this particular case for me, that my then wife and I became bitter enemies, wondering what in the world we ever saw in each other to begin with. Consequently, lifelong partners now become lifelong enemies and no one can really pinpoint what went wrong and when, only that it is quite certainly the other one’s fault entirely.  After all, the failure could not be my fault.  That would point at some type of fault, or character deficiency with me, which was simply and purely impossible.  It might sound like I have an ego, and I do to a certain extent.   It is not a weakness in me, but rather a strength, as my ego makes me who I am and it is what has driven me all my life, to do great things, such as when I conducted covert operations for the British government to eliminate terrorist subversives from the planet. 

 

It was not my ego, or even the alcohol that I had become so fond of, that caused my marriage to break up, it was my partner’s failure to act properly in support of her ultimate duty, which was to serve and support me to achieve greater and greater things.  In the way all women should support their husbands. Nonetheless, after two failed attempts at marriage, I no longer felt that I could find love.  Companionship would have been fine as well, but I knew deep down that I was too set in my ways, too self-destructive for anyone to put up with me. Besides, it is a difficult job providing the emotional, financial and technical support, due to my drinking binges, that a man of my calibre requires.  Probably too big job for any one woman. 

Consequently, these ideals of commitment and love just did not exist for me, or perhaps such women as I had built up to be my ideal, just did not exist.  That had to be the answer, and I actually convinced myself of this simple fact and made peace with myself with this revelation.  For years, I casually accepted this simple fact of life and I would punctuate its existence each day over several drinks.  The drinks seemed to make everything seem much fuzzier for me, and I was content in my pain and sorrow and lonliness. 

 

That is until I met an angelic woman who happened to walk into my favourite watering hole one day. I still remember that day.  I was just nursing my sixth or seventh vodka and Coke of the afternoon, when this beautiful creature walked in.  As a matter of fact, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, the kind of woman one would typically see on movie posters, or read about in popular detective novels. She was radiant and tanned, with flowing black hair, the color of a raven, a slim, but very voluptuous body, a gorgeous face and dark luminous eyes that hypnotized every man in the room. Three of them sent drinks over to her. (She was drinking fruit juice.)I don’t know how I ever got the nerve, perhaps it was the drink, but I decided to ask her a question.  It seemed quite obvious to me at the time and the question was, “Where can I find a wife like you?  She seemed a bit stunned by my directness, but I believe in the end she was actually quite flattered by my question. After, all, I may not be a lady’s man, but I consider myself to be quite a man, albeit a bit on the rough side.  Actually, as I drink, not only does the world look better, but I believe I become much better looking as well. 

But, back to this gorgeous creature. She, to my amazement answered, that I could meet some lovely ladies at tea-dances!  I was shocked.  I asked her how old she thought I was.  She replied, “about sixty-five!”  I suddenly realised that I must have started to look much older than I had noticed.  I was only fifty-four years! Of course she apologized, on finding out that I was just two years older than her. She said it must have been the drink and hard times that had aged me. I managed to keep a conversation going, telling her about my depression and nightmares, about things that happened to me as a soldier.  Somehow, we got onto the subject of ‘Angels.’  We told each other about our experiences. 

I felt we had made a bond of some sort.  But I could not just leave it at that.  I decided I would do something that would make her remember me.  I stunned her once again when I asked her if she wanted a car.  (I had just bought a second one from a mate who needed the money, it wasn‘t taxed and I couldn't be bothered to do that, so it would have been illegal to keep it on the road) She told me thanks, but she already had a sports car that she loved.  When I said she would be doing me a favour, by taking it off my hands, with no strings attached.  She agreed.

I went straight out of the pub, to my house just a few doors down and brought back the keys, which I gave to her.  I said I would give her all the papers later, sending them to her house.  (So I got her to write her address down.) I handed her the keys to my car and told her it was now hers.  She, (Donni-Jay) seemed shocked, but once she had recovered, told me that she may sell it and use the money for doing up her own beloved car.  I didn't mind what she did with it. Before she left, she took off an Angel pendant that she had been keeping on her keyring, saying that she had to give me something very special back.  It was the Angel pendant that meant so much to her. She told me it would keep me safe.  I put it onto a chain and wore it constantly.

 

In any event, I got the car papers to her and wrote the odd letter, mainly about how I was doing regarding the drinking and about my uncontrollable shaking and sweating. This was driving me crazy.  It didn't even have to be a hot day for the water to drip off me.  It looked as if I had only just had a shower and not bothered to dry myself.

 

We exchanged some texts, mostly with her asking how I was.  We only bumped into each other a couple of times and I was still drinking.  We didn't talk long as sadly, those particular times, I was coming off the drink and felt too ill to talk.  About five months later, when Donni-Jay was about to go into a restauarant, I followed her and  stood in the doorway.  She invited me in for a meal.  I went in and sat down, but could only manage a cup of tea. Donni was so pleased that I had not been drinking for just over three weeks, that she invited me to stay at her house in the guest room, for a short while, just to prevent the temptation of having the pub just down the road from me.  I popped over and brought a copy of my book for her to read.  Donni was surprised.  I think that she had thought I was exaggerating when I said that I had been a bestseller.  (I already had found out from her that she had written a novel.) We got to talking and she asked me to re-write her book, as she thought it would stand more chance if it was written by a known bestseller.  Well, I read bits of it, but it was too full of romantic, emotional stuff.  (Of which I am not very good at) But, gradually I learned about her life, and was so shocked at the harshness of it, that I wanted to write her Autobiography first.  Donni was very pleased.  I was amazed that she could have gone through all she had, and I had not even learned that much of her life! (At this stage, I had no intention of writing my second part of The Nemesis File, which I had been trying to do for the last six or seven years.)  I had becoome complacent, and was still annoyed at the bad deal I had had with my publisher.

 

Those first few days at Donni's house were so pleasant and we got on so well, though platonically.  Donni admitted to me she was going into hospital for a few days for some surgery.  I was asked if I would mind just keeping an eye on Ching, her Pomeranian dog. (The equivelant of food for a guard dog!) Feeding her dog and changing her toilet tray (for she went in a cat’s tray, with kitchen paper in it) I agreed.  It also worked out that I had to drive her one hundred and fifty miles, or so, to the hospital, in her car and pick her up after a night there, in the hospital, because her best friend, Lol, was nervous about going that distance, getting lost and so on.  Women!!  I did this favour, but I won’t waste time on details, as I’m sure Donni will describe it, in her site or her Autobiography, sooner or later. Anyway, we seemed very compatible.  

 

My children loved Donni and how happy I had become, (and mainly because I had given up drinking) especially my little Ferni who was 15 years, at the time.  Both Donni and Ferni used to laugh hysterically at almost anything, anywhere!  Donni even made me laugh so hard and I found I did not even think of drinking at all.  She also talked me into writing my second book instead of doing her Autobiography. She bought me a computer and printer. It seemed we were just so compatible. Could it be that I had found the woman of my dreams, someone who shared my interests, ambitions, and even in my belief in angels and that they exist in human forms here on earth?  

Miraculously, I convinced this human ‘angel’ to marry me, and we did so in a short, but very special ceremony attended to by some very close friends and my children. Life seemed perfect, and I even gave up thinking of my good old friend, the alcohol.  It’s not that I no longer required it, but rather everything I had wanted in life was now right here in front of me in the form of my beautiful wife, and I did not want to blow this final opportunity, my last reprieve for happiness.  Everyone said how different and how much younger I looked.   I was now working out every day in her home made gym.  Life seemed perfect, or so it seemed.

 

It was not long after the marriage, before I realized that as a consequence of the many years of alcohol abuse and my detachment from the world emotionally, my self-destruct button kept coming on.   I would actually rather move away from Donni, than cuddle her, which is what she needed.   I could not show this wonderful woman the love, affection, or emotion so necessary to make any relationship successful.   I used to tell her that we were past all that.   I know that I fell flat on all counts. As a result, I decided to put Plan B into effect.  That is, I figured that the best thing to do, was to continue my hustle and keep this woman dependent on me emotionally.  To accomplish this feat, I just continued to put her down by being uninterested in anything she was doing, songwriting, playing guitar, singing…. I also tried to destroy her confidence and sense of self-esteem.   I reiterated over an over, that it was only me who she could trust.  That only I understood her and that it was only me who could provide her with the happiness she desired. (That was when I felt like speaking!) Mostly, I just never bothered and kept to myself, scribbling my story, teling her not to interrupt me.  Someimes I gave her a short reply if she said something to me.  For some reason, her musician friends stopped coming over and she became morose.  Stayed on her computer from the time she awoke until going into her bedroom.  DId I say we had been sleeping separately? After all, what did we have in common? Neither of us felt like laughing anymore and she kept insisting that I joined her in her music. 

So, Donni-Jay bought me some drums, hoping that I would get excited and then be able to join in with her and her other musicians.  What a joke!  Donni wanted me to feel involved!  I never wanted to.  Well I played the drums twice and that was only after my ‘two’ lessons. She said I was good at it and would get better, but she was only trying to enforce her will on me.  I actually preferred to watch television (which she hated!)

Thinking back, this must have hurt her, but I only do what I want to do and won't have anyone force their will onto me. In the process, I also kept up my ruse that I was working on a blockbuster book and movie deal, so that she would be convinced to spend money on me and support the high life style I had come to enjoy with her.  Donni took me away on holidays and bought me jewelry.  She even  put three years maintenance warranty on my computer, so that I should not ever be without the use of one.  (She even paid for the marriage rings) For quite a while, it worked until, we began to quarrel more and more frequently, quiet and let her get on with her moaning) about how far I had got with the book, as dealing with the bills were getting too much for her.  (I couldn't unserstand this, as she only had to pay them, which she did, but she kept on about the time when the money would run out and she needed the security of my book advance. 

 

Donni also kept quarreling with me over my not speaking to her, unless she spoke to me first.  Why couldn’t she understand that I just wanted to be with my thoughts?  I was trying to write a book!  So I showed her nonchalance.  I even got her so mad, while she was trying to ask me why I didn’t show her any interest and I couldn't be bothered to go over all that again.  So she kicked me in the jaw for ignoring her.  I couldn’t believe it!  Her questions had been quite irrelevant!  I was so angry, and I did shout at her, and she only got madder!  I thought she would try to attack me again, so I went up to her and grabbed her wrists, so that she couldn’t attack me again, but she kicked me, you know where!  I forgot she had done karate, or, of course I would have been prepared for this.   

I should have called the police right then and had her taken away for the violence she did on me.  Well, Donni seeing me really mad, said if I came near her again, she would call the police. (And you know that it would have been her that they believed!) As she was shouting for me to get out, and I wanted the quiet life, I left and went back to the townhouse I had kept on, as it has all my collectable stuff and is like a museum.  There was no room for all of that in Donni's three-bed roomed home, though she allowed some of it to take up wall space. 

 

We had married in March 2003 and now it was July 2003, just before both our birthdays.  Our marriage was finished. Instead of thinking about what I had just lost, I made it worse, by taking up with my friend the bottle, (well up to three of them) daily.  I felt so ill.  But, I was so angry that she didn’t want me, that I sent her abusive texts and then the next ones would be to say I loved her and could she pick me up?  And do you know, she had the cheek to say no!  Drink makes one act quite schitzo!  I didn’t know what I really wanted, the drink, or Donni.  She should have understood me.

I immediately took up my old ways of hanging out in pubs with my mates, and drowning my sorrows in my old friend, alcohol and the reminiscences of a wasted life.   I realised that no matter how hard I tried to become part of mainstream society and no matter how much I longed for a lasting relationship, I was just too damn damaged by life and alcohol to have any chance at making anyone happy, or myself.  Anyhow, I didn't think that I deserved to be happy anyway.  Besides, there was really no one who could understand my complex nature, and my great achievements. However, I was selfish, and I still wanted the good things in life in spite of myself. As a result, I was able to con my way back into my wife’s heart and promised her that I would change, even though I knew otherwise.  This was done, after she had called on me, to give me a birthday card.  

Donni saw all the empty bottles of vodka, lying around my lounge.   She saw stale milk in the kitchen and no food. Donni went out and got me some ready cooked chicken and some groceries.   But, I could not eat anything as I was feeling so nauseaus.   I believe that because she had been a nurse, she felt she had to try and make this sick person better again.    It could not have been out of love.  After the life she had lived, what did she know about love?

 

Donni told me that I would be able to stay with her, only after promising to give up the drink forever, and only if I could at least show her affection and communicate more with her.   I agreed, told her that I would never let our marriage break up again.    So she brought me back to her home, with just some of my belongings, and the computer (she already had her own, and a laptop) She even bought me the bottles of vodka I needed, to be able to wean myself off. When she said that, as her second husband had been an alcoholic and was the cause of her losing her two daughters, this was hurting her so much.   I just thought she was making too much of it.  It was easy to be the way I was in the beginning, for I was so happy to be back.  I was sweet and loving for awhile, but soon my old, destructive ways surfaced, it’s just me I guess.  

I preferred sleeping in the guest room, where I could watch television and have peace.  During this time I had my hernia operation, which nearly killed me. I have written about it in this site.  

 

Donni allowed my indifference to her for three months and once again it all erupted, as she said that she would have more company if she had a lodger and then the cheek to say, she wouldn’t be paying out for him!  We broke up on the Sixth of December 2003.  I wasn’t ready to leave as it was leading up to Christmas, but she couldn’t take any more.  Never eventhught of my feelings.  I think all the demands for the bills were getting her down and I was nowhere near finishing my book.  I had got nowhere with the book, or at least not to the stages of being ready for publishing.  She insisted I leave right then and there.  She can be so impulsive! How selfish of her, and just before Christmas too. (She was already talking to this American, Rocky, on the internet.) Though it was platonic, as far as I could tell.  She never hid it from me as she wanted to hurt me, so I pretended that it meant nothing to me.  I saw the emails and messaging, back and forth but, I was so angry that she needed this contact when she had me!  But, on being 'marched out of my marital home' I became so angry, that this time, I pushed the self-destruct button all the way down. 

 

I drank myself silly every night for weeks. I went to night clubs, the women were throwing themselves at me!  I felt kind of good, as I had not had this kind of attention before.  But, I could not eat, and I lost considerable weight.  I was determined to kill myself through the drink and was convinced I would get the job done this time.  All the while, our divorce was looming in the background, although it was something I just could not face up to.  I still loved her, but also did not want to lose the great lifestyle my wife had provided for me, and it made me angry that I was living in relative squalor at this time, (though I still had my computer) when I should be enjoying a life of luxury with her. 

 

Compounded by the alcohol, I became increasingly angry and vindictive, even for someone of my low self-esteem and standards.  I felt that if I could not have happiness with this woman, then no one would.  I would damage her in every way that I could. (I knew it wouldn’t take much, as she showed me more love than she said she was ever able to give, to any other man.) I was the first man she had truly loved.

For a very long time I had led her to believe that I was the only one who could ever love her, and she had reciprocated by showing me all the love in the world and affection, until it swamped me. She bestowed expensive gifts and luxuries on me.  I had almost bankrupted her emotionally through my coldness and detachment, but with regard to finances, I had led her to believe that one day I would be a wealthy author from the sale of the movie rights to my first book and the subsequent publication of the second. I had no intention of any such thing, (as I always wanted to go to Africa to live) but, that’s not what I led her to believe.  I asked her once if she could live out there, but she said no way. 

 

Consequently, in the duration of just one short year, my wife gave up all of her financial security for me, and then some, just in the hope that she could help me become successful. (A promise she had made to me)  She devoted herself to me completely, but I paid her back with abuse and cold detachment.  I sent her relentless abusive text messages day and night and weekends and holidays too.  I called her every despicable name in the book, and I even made up a few that surprised me!  I threatened her life, her possessions, and in the end, my vindictive onslaught caused her health to diminish. In the end, my wife’s health deteriorated to the point where she became reclusive and afraid to even leave the house.  I don’t blame her.  I told her that I would appear in her house when she least expected it and even threatened to blow her up in her car, if she ever used it.  (Of course I was kidding)  But, it is a special skill I had learned through my years as an assassin with the SAS execution squads in Northern Ireland.  

 

I continued on this tact, namely to destroy myself, but to also destroy this poor soul as well in the process, and I thought I was about to succeed, (in some of her rare responses to my contact, she talked about suicide,) when a very peculiar and unexpected thing happened.  I was in the pub, spending another relaxing evening with the bottle, when I was arrested by the police.   I thought I was hallucinating!  She had actually complained to them of my constant harassment and she wanted it stopped.   I was going to get a restraining order put against me!  Now why did she do that?  No-one should snitch on anyone!  She had put up with it for two months, so why hadn’t she learned to just ignore it all by now?  I had to put in many court appearances, and it was hell, as I was feeling so ill.  How could she do this to me?  Shows how nasty and vindictive women can be.

 

Not many weeks after this, I literally bumped into her, in the town.   I thought she would lunge at me.  Punch me at least.  (Don’t forget her very bad temper!) I couldn’t believe how beautiful she was! In fact, I had forgotten.  I stared at her. She came closer and said she was pleased that I hadn’t shaved off my pony-tail.  She had convinced me to grow it, to give some character to my bald head!  Well, I liked it now, as the women were finding me more attractive with the change.  

 

Donni asked me how I was feeling now.   I was a bit drunk and said we should sit down and talk.  I took her into the nearest pub and we sat down.   Donni said that this was the most I had ever spoken to her, throughout our marriage.   She told me about her ‘new’ boyfriend, Rocky the American, the same one she had been communicating with while I had been living with her.  Well, of course I didn’t show any reaction. After all, we were finished and she had put the police on me. Although Donni kept trying to leave, (she had had enough of orange juices, and was uncomfortable sitting in a pub) I carried on talking and drinking, keeping her there.  We actually had a laugh, as the restraining order against me, meant that if I was caught anywhere near her, I would be arrested and here I was, talking to her.

For a short while it occurred to me, that this might be a set-up and that the police would come in and catch us, arresting me! After more drinks, I didn’t give a damn! Anyhow, when we were thrown out at closing time, Donni walked me round to my house.  She had parked her car very close to my place.  It was where she used to park to go into town, before I had started the harassing.  

 

Somehow, she could not leave me there looking so dejected and ill (drunk too) so she said for me to get in her car.  I did.   Donni took me back to her place.   We continued talking (I always talk when I'm drunk) and I tried to persuade her that I would change and that I had learned my lesson. Here was a woman that I had treated like scum throughout our marriage, no love, no affection, no communication, and who I had treated even worse during our separations.   I even threatened to kill her, and she wanted to take me home and nurse me back to health again, though she said no way would she take me back. 

 

Donni said though she still loved me very much, she felt that Rocky was the better man for her.  She felt he was so reliable and understanding and said that they communicated so well.  She felt she could trust him not to hurt her like I kept doing.   But, though I was hurt and jealous, I thought I would manipulate her again just given the chance.  Well, she had loved me a lot longer than she had known this American.  Unbelievable how my luck had so suddenly changed for the better, (I thought.)  My hustle had a new life.  If I got her to take me back before, I knew I could get her to take me back again.

 

So, back at her house, she helped me to get cleaned up, fed me and even hugged me all night, in her bed.  I tried to make love to her.  At least I tried, I have a tough time in this department.   She had always understood that the amount of years I had been drinking, had caused me to have problems with this ‘physical’ thing, but, she had still loved me. So why should I be worried about this 'Rocky' bloke?  So we talked and she told me that our ‘divorce‘ was going through.  This hurt.  Surely she knew she was making a big mistake.  Donni also told me that ‘Rocky’ was due to come down to see her that next evening, from Chicago! She was supposed to be going back to the States with him!  (Well, I know how terrified she is of flying, so I couldn't see this happening.) 

So we agreed to text and the next morning, Donni took me home and after seeing the state of my place, said she would ask Rocky if he minded her popping over to see me, in a few days, so she could bring me some groceries, as I was too ill to get any for myself, (but not so ill that I could not go out and get drink.) though she asked me not to touch any drink meanwhile. 

Besides I told her that I had used most of my money on this habit and would not have any more money for a few days. How Rocky took this, I will never really know, but she came with groceries, as promised.  He had been left in her house. This time when she arrived, I was so ill that I could hardly stand up.  I was shaking uncontrollably and pale enough to look as if I were dying.  I’m afraid that I went on the biggest drinking binge possible, in between seeing her again and now.  

 

Donni was angry but so alarmed at my condition that she phoned Rocky and said she needed to bring me back with her.  (Don’t know how he took this, I hoped he would just get the hell out, but he was polite enough to me when I arrived) Though I could tell things were strained between the two of them. I had put my few belongings in her bedroom and assumed that Rocky would be sleeping in the guestroom.  But, Donni changed that straightaway.   I was sent into bed, in the very familiar guestroom and was waited on, with tea and soup.  I had to stay put for a few days as I had grown so weak.  I really wobbled all the way to the loo (upstairs when luckily) and had to be helped to get there.  Sometimes by Donni.   Sometimes by Rocky.  I was past humiliation.  I was suffering like hell.  Never ever felt so ill before and was hurting all over.  Especially my sore stomach from all the dry heaving. Over the ensuing weeks, she nursed me back to health.  (with the help of Rocky.)  

 

They both took me to the various doctors, for my medications and treatments.   I had really bad alcohol poisoning.   (My doctor told Rocky, who had come into the surgery with me, that I had almost succeeding in killing myself this time.)  Donni was trying to give attention to Rocky, as well as me, which I could tell was difficult for her, but Donni treated me with love and compassion.

Rocky kept putting off their flight to the States, as he was supposed to be taking her back with him.  In all, he cancelled the air flights sixteen times, as she would not leave me in my sick state. When she finally left for the United States to pursue her entertainment career, I saw them off at the airport, someone else was driving.  Donni had allowed me to stay in her home, around all of her comforts. (Rocky had collected my computer from my house and fixed my front door, which had been broken by me at an earlier time, as I had to kick the door in, when I had mis-placed my keys)

Donni was afraid that I could not get well at my own house, due to the temptations of being so near to the drink and wanted me strong enough, before I returned to my own house. No one has ever treated me with more kindness and empathy in my entire life.  

 

She could have lost what she now calls the 'love of her life.'  In return, I was to look after the house and keep it clean, forward her mail, and watch over all of her personal effects.   She had taken Ching with her of course.  I was allowed to use her sports car too. (Although this was all only allowed if I did not drink ever again!) Briefly, I was able to comply with these simple requirements, but in the end, my true nature took over once again, and I once again became self-destructive.  I stopped looking after the house, I refused to forward any of her mail, no matter how important it was, and I once again became an abusive drunk.  

I sent her incessant text messages, trying to once again destroy her emotionally.   I could not do it financially at this point, since I had already accomplished that feat during the previous year of our on-again, off-again marriage.  I had even convinced Rocky that we all could make big money out of the ‘movie’ of my bestseller, and as he is a financial controller, was just the person to help out here.   

I said I would give Donni half of the money as a divorce settlement.   I owed it to her anyway. Well, he started working in this direction, and because of this, I think Donni could not have told him about how cruel I had become to her again.   (She said she had no intention of coming back to me, even if I became a millionaire!)  I even started sending texts and speaking to Rocky on the phone, of how bad Donni really was.  Yes, I was trying to break them up and also let him know the truth about her.  

I thought that with, or, without Donni, that Rocky would  still have worked on the movie contract, as it meant money for him as well as me.   He listened to me, but only commented on the business at hand. I hoped I would have managed to sow a seed of mis-trust about Donni, into him.

 

Finally, in August, whilst still in Chicago, Donni, scared of how I might be mistreating her house and possessions, had enough of my abuse, and asked me to leave her home, which I refused to do initially.  (I mentioned the word ‘squatter to her.’)  Donni has always been afraid of squatters taking over any house she has lived in. Of course, I blamed her for everything that had gone wrong with our relationship.  (Even though we were divorced at this time.)  I could not blame myself, because my ego was just too big to admit my mistakes, (as I don’t make many at all) let alone ask for any forgiveness.   I then stepped up the intensity of my abusive texts and punctuated them with follow up telephone calls to her.  

 

It may seem to the casual observer that I was truly awful to her for no reason, but that is not the case.  In spite of the apparent abuse and how much I would have appeared to have taken advantage of her, the fact remains that I was the best thing that ever happened in her life.   I saved her life three times when she had stopped breathing, due to her passing out and she repaid me by divorcing me and kicking me out of the house we shared together.  

(I only kept my own house going, as I stored valuables there and my spare items and collections) Here was a woman who had saved me from the brink of my self-destruction several times, too many times to mention, and I just wanted to see her destroyed in every way possible.   The reason is that she was ungrateful for all that I had done for her, and besides, her saving me, served her own selfish purposes as well. Without me, her life was miserable and lacked any purpose.   (Too many men chasing her, turning her into a recluse) With me in her life, she at least had the benefit of looking after and supporting a man of great achievement.   

How dare she forget that simple fact of life.   That’s what I mean about relationships.   In spite of everything that goes wrong and in spite of who is to blame for most of it, (my ex-wife in this case,) the other party just does not get it.   Consequently, I sought to destroy her in the process, just as she had sought to destroy me, by taking away from me the love she promised forever, when she married me. 

 

Donni and Rocky flew back and came to the house.  I had managed to get out in time.  I had taken some of her possessions.  After all, they were mine too.  Like the weights for instance.  She may have bought them, but they were too heavy for her to use and why should Rocky, who I knew did body building too, take advantage of this? 

Well, I did leave the place in quite a mess, but that was no excuse for them to ignore my phone calls asking them to meet me.  I wanted to talk to Rocky about how he was marketing my new book and to tell me about the film makers he had got intersted in the movie of my first book. It didn't seem to matter now that Donni was lost to me completely, but Rocky was my financial manager and I was depending on him for my future happiness. 

 

I wanted the money so that I could go and live in Africa.  But, he never replied to any of my texts or phone calls any more.   Wouldn't even arrange to meet me!  The next thing I heard, they were gone and had changed the phone numbers!  Never even contacted me. In retrospect, I realize now that I am a sick man, probably have been one to varying degrees for the past 30 years, and I have needed the help of competent psychiatrist(s) for a quite long time.  But, do-gooders make me angry.   

No-one can help me unless they have been through EXACTLY what I have been through. How would they know what they were talking about otherwise?  The only way in life for me is to be miserable with my situation, and then to make everyone around me even more miserable than I am.  It's a feat that I am usually able to succeed at, and one for which I have become particularly good at.   In the end though, what did I accomplish?   I have caused my wife to divorce me, and not even want to be my friend, I lost my financial advisor, who I actually liked.   I destroyed all of that.  

 

Donni has moved away and changed her telephone numbers and address, so that I can no longer contact her.   I have lost a dear friend, and I sometimes feel a bit bad about that. Well, maybe not so bad, but perhaps more concerned for my constant bent towards self-destruction and the destruction of friendships and loves.  Well, maybe even not that concerned after all.   I still have my drink, my children will always love me and soon everything gets okay in the world for me once again.   I really do not need anyone.  I prefer Ornithology more than anything.  The bleak open places to wander and just get away from people.   Some of us are just better off that way.

 

But, if I ever do find my ex-wife, I promise that I will make her life hell once again.  I can’t help it, it is just my nature and besides, it’s all her fault anyway.  She could have made me happy if she had tried harder and not given up so easily.