February came. It was still cold and dreary. I had lost over 50 lbs on my exercise and diet regime. I felt 100% better in myself, more confident, went to adult education classes in math (I hate math BTW), English… yeah, I know, I know, I could do with more of those… and Italian. I also took much better care of my appearance. (Before I’d lived in jogging bottoms, t-shirts. See, I’m a tomboy!) Pretty clothes are lost on me. I would be fidgeting and pulling at them in no time. Hate dresses and skirts with a passion. You will no sooner see me in a dress than Jess. Hang on… in fact I’ve seen Jess in a dress. He doesn’t look half bad LOL. Better than I would, put it that way. So, I digress. I do this a lot folks. Dresses are still off… devils work… but the strangest thing happened around this time. Lace happened! Don’t ask why or how. I’ve no idea, although Jess has his theory on this. Yes, folks, under my jeans and not so baggy shirts I bought girly lace things. No one could be more shocked when I bought my first lacy, dare I say pretty, bra. I keep saying this but, if you knew me, you would know this is totally out of character. From there it was all downhill LOL.
I bought loads of lacy undies. What was this? I had no one to wear them for. No one saw them, but by then I was changing daily. I bought new clothes. Okay, still not girly but definitely more within keeping. I loved my classes, even started walking back from them. This was some undertaking for someone this seriously agoraphobic. It scared the hell out of me in the beginning.
The first day was high winds and driving rain. I was already breathless from anxiety, and the wind blowing in my face didn’t help. Weekly the places I could manage grew. I expanded my territory. Jess told me he was proud of me. I’d text each milestone excitedly. He phoned once a week at least. Jess sent a beautiful bunch of long stem red roses to me. This caused no end of trouble, but I cherished them, still have two pressed. I lived to hear his voice.
As February drifted into a bitter cold March I started taking Briar out for nighttime walks, another huge hurdle for me. I hated going out at night. I’d been attacked when I was sixteen. I never left after dark but here I was with tiny Briar. She’s a poodle X Patterdale, smaller than a Jack Russell Terrier in stature, frightened of her own shadow, me much the same… both out jumping at any sudden sound or movement. Areas of my round pitch black with no streetlamps. So, what did I do?… put on earphones with music on, of course. Okay, not sensible, but I found it a comfort. I trusted wee Briar’s hearing totally. I would text Jess and my fellow admin as I covered each new milestone. They joined in my excitement. They understood my fears. Soon I was walking to the local Tesco, no million miles away but far enough for this beginner.
I began to enjoy my 10pm strolls; frost underfoot, full moons, the air felt good in my face… I felt good. I would come home, work out, then lay waiting for the ping of a message from Jess. I then started walking Briar during the morning, each day expanding my route. At the same time my then husband took to following me everywhere, timing how long I was out, becoming aggressive, huge long tirades of where was I going. He followed me! He should know, for goodness sake, if anyone should. It took away my excitement of my gains, as these hateful in my face shouting matches became more extensive and more often, sometimes for hours. I became very withdrawn relying heavily on my therapist, Jess and my friends just to help me keep going.
Around this time early one morning I had a very odd text from Jess that would rock my little world again. He said he wouldn’t be in touch for some weeks. My world crashed. I stopped eating. I just curled on my futon under a pile of comfort blankets. I won’t go into how far I shut down, but it was as low as you can get. I had totally given up on life. If it wasn’t for a friend sitting with me all that Saturday I don’t know I’d be writing this now. Jess was and is my life. I took each breath, each heartbeat for him. Gradually, with support, I started the slow path to recovery. I hurt. I cried daily. I still lost weight but I plodded on.
One bitter cold day I left a message for Jess as I still did. I said ‘okay, if I couldn’t have him it was time I left this man who controlled my every move and found someone who wanted me, for me’… never expecting an answer. Then ping ‘if your going to find someone be careful for both our sakes‘. I knew then he still cared. Maybe not love, but he cared. As he signed off it was ‘talk soon, love you‘. I thought what the foof… what was going on here. I walked more in a daze that only those in love will understand. One night I asked my son could I stay the night at his flat. He agreed to give me a break as his dad had got steadily worse to the point each night I spent all night bombarded with questions. He would try touching me. So this little break away was brilliant. I lay all night texting Jess. He rang me, too. I was still very much in love, in fact, more so. I arranged for more nights at my son’s, more nights spent chatting. It was wonderful. Just before my birthday Jess said ‘you know you are eventually coming over for a week… why not make that two… hell, a month, three! Move in with me. I love you‘.
Whattttttttttt?????????????
To be continued
Jesse’s Perspective
February, that most dreary of months. Except for Valentines Day, which I dearly love. Tess was working on a self-improvement regimen that resulted in her sounding more confident, more full of an inner strength she never realized she had. I was so proud of her with all the progress she was making. Since I met her she always proclaimed that she was not really a woman at all. Her reasoning was that she did not like all the frilly, girly things. I kept trying to convince her that those things are not what made a woman. In my view, she was every bit the woman I wanted… much more than I ever imagined loving me. When she started displaying a propensity for wearing lacy things I was a bit surprised but not shocked by any means. I had gotten the impression throughout our nascent relationship that the woman she had kept hidden and buried inside was coming out. Having never been loved and cared for before I believe that her finding a man that simply adored her awakened that inner woman. She was losing weight, becoming more fit and feeling 100% better about herself. My love for her was growing exponentially.
The classes she was taking were opening her mind to a brighter tomorrow. She was LEARNING! Getting feedback on things that interested her. And she was kicking agoraphobia to the curb. She started out tentatively enough but, as time went on, she was becoming more confident… blossoming before our eyes; mine and the plethora of friends she had following her progress on Facebook. I was more proud of her accomplishments every day.
Tess and I began speaking on the phone steadily… usually several times a week. I found her voice soothing… melodious… SEXY! I loved hearing her talk. Those conversations became the highlight of my week, even though it was hard to hear her sometimes because of the sound the wind made in her microphone. For Valentines Day I sent her flowers. Turns out she had never had that before.
Time passed and Tess made a habit of taking her dog for walks. For anyone who has experienced agoraphobia you know what a monumental accomplishment this was. She would venture out at night, though frightened of the dark, and would post on Facebook each milestone. ‘Made it to the second lamp post. Yay!’ ‘Went round the next block. Yay!’ We all cheered her on. She continually made me proud of her as if I had accomplished these things myself.
She had a therapist in whom she confided and found safe haven discussing the hell she was living through. She turned to the support group we belonged to online for support as well. She would tell me later in our relationship that I also provided an impetus to keep trudging on. She was stuck in a house where she took to barricading herself downstairs behind a blocked door and sleeping on a futon so that she would not have to share space upstairs which she found intolerable. I pitied her plight and found my love and affinity for protecting someone I love growing leaps and bounds with each passing day.
Given that growing adoration, I became frightened of where we were headed. Tess had been giving mixed signals as to a possible future together. On one hand she indicated a desire to be with me. On the other she had three adult children in the UK that her relocating to the US would require leaving behind. I keep thinking how, early on in our relationship, she had been adamant that she would never marry again… would never be with another man again. Marriage was something I most definitely wanted. About this time I had some business obligations that were going to require my attention for a while. I thought it best for us to step away from each other for a short period, so I told her as much. I would not learn until much later that this devastated her, tore her apart and made her physically sick. I am not quick to pick up on the attentions of the opposite sex and I was totally clueless as to how much I meant to her… how much she loved me. I knew she said it… I knew she showed it… but I had heard the words before, all hollow and without substance. I thought separation was best for her and me.
What I discovered was that I could not get her off my mind. I kept thinking how good she made me feel and what a living hell she was subjected to daily. I contacted her and let her know that if she was going to go out and find someone else to have a relationship with I wanted her to be careful… for her own benefit and well-being and also for my own peace of mind. I somehow did not believe we would never cross paths again and I did not want her too broken from another bad relationship for that eventuality to happen. She began stopping over at her son’s to escape the abuse and we took up texting and speaking on the phone again. She was planning on coming to America to visit an online lady friend once her passport was sorted. I began thinking that it would be nice if we could also spend time together during that adventure. I deeply cared for this woman and the prospect of never meeting her and sharing a visit with her was not one I was ready to accept. I thought she could spend time in the US relaxing. My thinking was that she could stay in my home as I had a bedroom I would give her while I slept on the sofa in my living room. As things eventually turned out, that was a very naive plan on my part, but that was my intention. I contacted her and made the offer. I had to tag on ‘I love you’ because I could not dismiss that I did. I had no idea when I sent this message where her head was at, all I knew is that I wanted to see her, to be with her, to see if we got on in real life as well as we got on chatting online.
So I sent the text to her and eagerly awaited her response… holding my breath. I honestly did not think she would take me up on my offer. However, I began fantasizing our time together if she did. I could not wait to hear her answer.
To be continued….
My American Man In Purple Lace Corsets 