I left him for good January 19, 2019. (in two days, four years ago.)
His ex wife loathed him.
I wanted nothing to do with him.
The current wife was divorcing him and was in a psych ward
(Methinks THAT was an act so she didn't have to pay alimony...I'm pretty sure I'm right...)
Three people he said he loved all walked away from him.
He was a charmer...he wasn't even my type...can't believe I fell for him....he draped himself all over me telling me he loved me...the drama queen.
And now he's dead.
I had heard he was in the hospital in December. What his family didn't know was that he was serious about committing suicide on Halloween, 2018. I saved his life. He was distraught over the divorce and the endless battles with the ex wife, who was stalking us.
We got out of the Revere Cinema. I was driving his nice leased car, and the phone rings. It was the wife and the audio was pumped through the car radio. She cackled: "Are you with JOE again" the witch said sarcastically...clearly jealous (she was stalking us to the point where he had to put shades up in the apartment. What must have been going through the pretty young thing's head that her hubby was with some senior dude night after night after night???)
She eventually found someone else, they divorced....meanwhile he's buying me dinners and nice clothes and telling me how much he loved me. Sheesh. I was 64 and he was 44, what was I thinking going out with someone THAT OLD!
AS everyone knows, I prefer to date guys in their thirties.
Ask me my theory and observations? He was losing the wife, losing the condo, he had lost his job right after I left him, and was down to his last quarter of a million, which I'm sure is gone. At the end, and I'm just guessing, I think he drank himself to death.
I was certain that I was going to see him again to give him a torrent of invective. My office is only two streets away from his condo, but we never did have an encounter where I could yell at him. Probably just as well.
I feel nothing. No grief, no sadness, it was a chapter in my life that I walked away from. He would have been fifty in a couple of months, but it is over... I'm just processing what a horrible fall he had without me in his life, and how I saved his in October of 2018.
His daughters liked me. A lot. They loved my famous ferret T Shirt...I'm sure their love of "Joe" didn't go over well with the wife, who herself was truly a piece of work.
I feel badly for them, but I hear the older one preferred being with her friends and not spending weekends with daddy. He let me read a nine page psychiatrist report on his older daughter when she was nine. It was horrifying: my brain translated it, this divorce and the tug-of-war between two parents abusing their kids to get back at each other, causing irreparable harm. When I did try to give him some tough love about how he treated his daughters he blew up, yelling defensively "Don't you dare question my parenting." Fuck you, pal, if you are hurting your daughters so severely, how are you going to be treating me? I thought to myself. At that point I bailed.
C'est La Vie. I moved on quite quickly and surrounded myself with new people who are happy, secure and gentle and kind.
What was I thinking going out with someone in their mid-forties?
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