For anyone who didn't read either Atropine or, before that, Scr@wls, this might seem like a bit of a mystery. Let me see if I can catch you up to speed. I was born in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. My parents had family in Nebraska, and moved there with me in tow. I lived there until I graduated from High School (a harrowing experience), and ran away from Norfolk, NE as fast as my little Dodge Omni would take me. I graduated from USD with a degree in Political Science, and went on to law school, which completely decimated my faith in mankind. I quit, intending to take it up later, and decided never to go back again. During that time, I was working for Gateway 2000 (now just called "Gateway") in North Sioux City. Hallelujah! There's a -world- outside of the -midwest- and I can -connect- to it via the internet! *ahem* I met Dave (also called "David", "Ratbastard", and "Immature Pigbrain" herein) in 1995. We met while he was in Jersey and I was in Iowa. He came to see me, and I moved out there, to a little town outside of Philadelphia. We married in 1996, exactly one year after meeting each other, and moved to Portland, OR. During the three years there, I was agoraphobic. I was online more than I was offline, and I gained an insane amount of weight. While I was occupying myself with all things digital, Dave was chasing after everything with a skirt, it seems. Okay, so maybe not -everything-, but he did sleep with my best friend, and then took up with an online journaller who talked about practically nothing but sex in her journal. We had a huge talk on January first, 1999, and he got me to agree that I'd give up my creative endeavors for him, and that I'd work on getting help for the agoraphobia. I would have done anything at that point....but....He took off with her after she bought him a plane ticket to go out and sleep with her. (She was, however, -honorable-, she says -- the plane ticket was round-trip, so she was going to send him back to me, supposedly.) He never came home. He sent me a letter that said he wasn't coming back and, essentially, blamed it all on me. I should have had a job, he said. I should have left the house, he said. I should have showered more often and cleaned the house more often and blah, blah, blah. I was devastated for awhile. My early entries in Atropine are evidence of that. Then I found out that she sent him the ticket, and that he'd slept with my friend -- while I was in Nebraska at my father's funeral. (See why I chose the monniker "ratbastard"?) He took all the money out of our joint account, tried to cancel my utilities in Portland -- all the while saying that it was my fault he left. I've accepted my part in it. He obviously hasn't. Then again, emotional maturity was never his strong suit. Anyway, I moved in with Henry after Dave left. Henry's one of my oldest and dearest friends -- and I love him. A few months ago, we made it pretty much official -- we're living together and seeing each other and one of these days we'll probably just get married. Like any relationship, it's not perfect -- I've still got big, fat Issues from the ex -- but we're working through them together and building a life in a way that Dave and I never did. This is where you're coming in.
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