a very unhealthy marriage. I knew something was wrong, but I hadn't connected all the dots yet. I didn't grow up with language that accurately captured abuse in all its forms. Throw in a heavy dose of conservative Christianity, and I was left with a toxic soup of "if he doesn't beat or cheat," there's no escape unless someone dies. 

One day, I had a particularly distressing conversation with my (soon-to-be) ex-husband, while at work. Normally, I would have gone down to see my best friend at the time (who also happened to be the school counselor), over my lunch break, but she was in a meeting, so I came running back upstairs and literally ran into this colleague at the top of the staircase. When he asked what was wrong, without even thinking about it, I vomited out all my inner turmoil. Then he said something that caused me to reevaluate everything. He told me that no one should hurt me like my husband was hurting me. I'd never looked at it that way, and that paradigm shift is what ultimately enabled me to gather the courage to walk away from my ex. Granted, it took more than a year before I left my ex for good, and another before the divorce was final, but my colleague’s kind words were the push that I needed in the right direction.

I wound up changing careers that summer, and fell out of touch with that friend as my life fell apart. After my divorce was final, though, I called him to thank him for his kindness. We called and texted intermittently for a while, but it was always just a friendly back and forth, smalltalk and the like. The more we talked, the more I fell head-over-heels for him. I hoped that he'd show some kind of interest in being something more than just friends, but when he seemed to get more, rather than less distant, I started a dating profile and hit it off with a really great guy.

That relationship healed a lot of the emotional wounds my 17-year marriage had wrought, and inflicted some new ones for me to lick. About a year after my online beau and I had met in person and started dating, we got engaged. My friend and former colleague sent me a text, as was his wont, and I mentioned that I was busy with wedding plans. Then, he said the most beautiful thing at the most inopportune time: “Congratulations; I wish it were me!” Needless to say, we didn't speak again until after Mr. Internet and I had parted ways, and we wound up accidentally matching on a dating app.

We dated for about six months, and I was thrilled: I thought that maybe our moment had finally arrived. But something was “off.” He would make declarations about how wonderful and pretty and smart I was (usually over the course of an evening that included several adult beverages), and every time we went out, he’d crow about how he had the most beautiful girl in the room. I found it strange and I worried about living up to the unrealistic expectations his statements established, but I figured it was harmless hyperbole - his unique way of showing affection/appreciation. I learned the hard way that I was wrong. 

Throughout the time we were together, he was rhetorically present but emotionally distant and I couldn't figure out why. I thought it was just a function of me having not yet figured out his communication quirks and the way he processed problems and big emotions. Again, I was wrong. He didn't connect because he COULDN'T connect: he was never emotionally available throughout our entire relationship. 

When he made it clear that he didn't want/need me (the real me, not just the shiny packaging), it cut me deeper than anything else I’d ever experienced. I understood why the Spanish phrase for “heartbreak” roughly translates as having a sword run through your heart. It didn't help that the next time I heard from him was a text several months later asking for a booty call. I didn't even deign to respond.

That fall, he made a half-hearted attempt to reconcile, but couldn't answer my core question: “Are you emotionally available this time?” Obviously, the answer was “No.” After some heated text exchanges, I wound up blocking him a few months later. 

Fast forward to the next fall. He emailed me at my work email, from his work email, and I saw red! Long story short, I was dumb and gave him another chance to try to reconcile. I tried to explain why our last attempt at dating hurt so much and what I needed from him if he was serious about being with me, but he couldn't get through the conversation without a beer. The more he drank that evening, the more in love with me he became, and the angrier it made me, both at him and at myself. 

The next day, I told him that I didn't think it was going to work between us. He said that he understood but that he'd like to remain friends. I told him that would be nice…Then he got drunk again and the texts began. He couldn't live without me. I was the best thing that'd ever happened to him. No one else could ever love me as much as he loves me… And so on. I asked him to stop; told him that friends didn't talk like this.

The next day, he apologized. Then a few weeks later… The rollercoaster started again. Finally, I wound up blocking him…AGAIN! I've unblocked (and then quickly re-blocked) his # a few times out of curiosity, and the missed, archived texts were enlightening and steeled my resolve. He never loved ME (even though I believe he believes he did/does); he loved the idea of me, he loved my attention and the attention he thought I brought him when we were out together, and because of this, he couldn't understand how I COULD love him, the real him and he was so afraid of intimacy that he could only be vulnerable when he was drunk, which he could easily dismiss as inebriation and insincerity whenever convenient.

It took four years and three failed attempts at a relationship to realize the (emotional) danger of this drunken loop, but the good news is that I haven't spoken to him in more than 1.5 years despite his attempts to reach me on Facebook and through a booking site. I know that it days of easy conversation over music and politics are over.

At least this lesson helped me learn a little faster the next time something like this happened. Ironically, the same night my former colleague made his first half-hearted attempt to reconcile, I met another man who'd eventually lead me down a similar path. 

He was tall and handsome and easy to talk to - I'm a sucker for a man who listens (or at least makes a good show of listening). We'd keep bumping into each other, and I really thought he was interested in me, but then I heard that he'd started dating someone else. “Oh well,” I thought…is just par for the course - I'm awful at knowing when people “like” me: either I completely miss their signals or I think they're into me when they're not. 

He’d text periodically, just friendly stuff, but then he stopped texting and I stopped seeing him around. Around Christmas time, I got a strange call. He'd been in jail for a DUI and a probation violation…and I was the first person he'd called when he got out. This both pleased and baffled me: I was flattered that trusted me enough to make me his first call, but why me? So I asked him how his girlfriend was, and the truth came out that they were on the rocks…still together, but disagreeing. I told him that I would gladly be his friend, but that I didn't want to be his backup girl.

We actually got really close over the next (about) 18 months, while he was on probation. He did his community service every weekend within walking distance from my house, and we'd grab coffee and talk about life. I miss those conversations! 

That spring, I started “casually” dating a guy another friend had set me up with, and everything was fine. My friend was incredibly supportive, but kept warning me not to get hurt. Then that summer, his community service and probation ended, and his sisters offered him a drink to celebrate. 

That happened to be a truly awful day for me on many fronts: I’d had to block Mr. 3rd-time-no-charm earlier that day, and I was an emotional wreck. My friend offered to meet me at my favorite local watering hole to talk, while I waited for Mr. Casual to show up (we were supposed to be hanging out that evening). It was obvious as soon as I walked in that my friend had had MORE than one drink, it made me sad but I really was glad to see him.

I tried to calmly explain what had happened and why it hurt so much, but I wound up a stuttering, sobbing mess. That's when he did something that he'd never done before. He drew me into his side, kissed my cheek and neck, and told me how much he loved me. He told me to tell Mr. Casual not to show up. To say I was shocked and confused is an understatement!

Needless to say, I did not cancel on Mr. Casual, but I did tell him what happened while I was waiting for him. The next morning, I called my friend and told him how confused I was about what had happened the night before. He quickly walked back what he'd said. He told me that I was his best friend and that he was afraid of losing me if we ever got romantically involved. I told him I understood (because I really did), but the next time I bumped into him at karaoke, he got into a pissing contest with Mr. Casual over who was going to sing with me. He was several beers in (but he was “fine”) and it was beyond weird.

Eventually, Mr. Casual moved on, and the girl my friend had started and then stopped dating shortly thereafter was no longer in the picture. We'd still hang out, but our conversations usually involved a gingerbeer for me and several real beers for him. It made me sad. I told him that if he ever wanted to hang out without any alcohol, I'd be there. If he needed a friend who wouldn't drink in front of him, I had his back. He declined because, after all, he was “fine.”

Often, he'd work his way around to the fact that I was the type of girl he'd been looking for his whole life. He wanted me to sell my house and be his neighbor. He wanted me to move to Boise with him. He wanted me to buy land next to him in El Salvador, so we could retire together. Sometimes, my heart wanted to believe him, but a part of me knew it was just talk. Eventually, I had to tell him that I couldn't hang out with him if he was going to drink because he always said confusing things when he'd been drinking. 

He told me that he meant every word and that we were meant to be together (something my former colleague also used to say), but only when he was good and drunk. He'd always pair it with, “but we can't because I can't afford to lose you as a friend.” After months of this, I finally told him basically to piss or get off the pot. Either he really feels the way he says he does and we'll make the perfect couple because we're already friends, or he wants to remain just friend, which means no more declaring his love for me. He insisted that he loved me and on going back to my place “just to talk.”

I could feel the difference the next day. Usually, he was very responsive to my texts. Now he was terse. I called him that night and told him that it's ok if he isn't as into me as he thought. We could chalk the whole thing up to a big mistake and pretend like nothing ever happened. He said sure, and then didn't call or text for the rest of the week…. And the next week…and. I felt used. I felt betrayed. I felt foolish for believing him.

The next time I bumped into him at karaoke, he wanted to talk, but I didn't want to talk to him. He was sloshed and insistent, so I told him he had 5 minutes. He told me he was sorry. He told me how much he loved me. I told him how hurt I was and that I no longer trusted him. Then I walked away, and he looked like I'd kicked his puppy. When I got home, I sat down at my piano and wrote “He's Just Drunk.”

The next time we crossed paths, I studiously ignored him (he was drinking again), but as I was leaving, he insisted on talking to me. I told him, please, just to leave me alone. He told me he missed me. He told me he missed our conversations. I told him I had to leave. 

At a holiday party at a local bar, he cornered me. He was crying, but he'd been drinking. He told me he loved me but that he was scared. I told him to try saying that when he was sober. He insisted that he wanted to talk in private, and asked if we could go back to my place. He INSISTED that it was urgent and that it couldn't wait - he could barely stand up. He leaned in and kissed me. I turned away, and through my tears I asked him never to speak to me again. Then I walked to my car and left my heart where he was standing. 

The next day he texted me. He wanted to be friends. I told him how used and betrayed I felt. I told him to lose my number and not to speak to me if we ever met in public again. And then I had a good cry.

I've seen him around a few times, but he hasn't tried to talk to me. Except for the very last time I saw him. I had started dating someone else and he tried to stop me as I was walking out of an open mic. I ignored him calling my name and zoomed out of the bar. This shocked the man I was dating. He'd never seen me react this way before to anyone, so we sat on the bench outside, and I explained to him the situation. While we were talking, my (former friend) stumbled out of the bar, leaning heavily on a friend I'd never seen before. As he passed by us he spat “pinche cabron” at the man sitting beside me.

When I think about him, I still cry. In fact, I had to walk away several times while writing this backstory because I was just so overwhelmed with emotions. Hopefully, this song and the resources on my website will help ensure others don't have to learn this lesson the hard way, like I did.