Being The Other Woman: Who we are, what every woman should know and how to avoid us (8 page)

Chapter 6
 

Reality and Fantasy
Struggle to Connect
 

Our first week in Aruba was shared with a friend of Blake’s who flew in from Colorado. This turned out to be yet another phenomenal “sign” to me. My sister and I had rented a home for a few years and regularly received mail for a man with a unique name and a variety of interests. We had been receiving Rocco’s mail for so long and so regularly that we joked about our missing friend who we had never met. Rocco was Blake’s friend and our roommate on the island.

We became fast friends and the three of us had a blast together. We enjoyed dancing almost every night, attended elaborate carnivals, and took up windsurfing and kite surfing. We ate fabulous meals and made friends with several locals, which resulted in gatherings and barbeques on our patio and, of course, we also made time for the mandatory beach bumming. A few of the locals had come to know Blake from previous trips he had made to the island and they expressed their approval of me, saying that I was a joy and a pleasure to be around, whereas Beth was rude and bitchy. This, again, fed my developing image of Beth and ability to reject feelings of guilt. I had won his friends’ approval. Everyone was saying that Beth was an intolerably selfish person. He and I were the couple that everyone recognized and supported, not he and Beth. Those who truly cared for Blake were glad to see that he was happy with me. They encouraged him to leave his miserable marriage and embrace the loving woman beside him. They supported us and helped to solidify everything about us that I had come to believe.

I became a certified diver while we were visiting Aruba and enjoyed exploring several aircraft and shipwrecks under the sea. Blake was right—being here together was what we needed. We were having fun. We always had fun. My life was always expanding and I was continuously being exposed to new interests. During our second week on Aruba, Rocco left and we were alone like newlyweds.

We ventured off to a remote beach location late one afternoon. We were all alone for miles around so, we decided to check “sex on the beach” off our list. When we returned to our car, however, we discovered it buried beneath a few feet of wind blown sand. Forced to hike out, we headed toward a distant lighthouse. It took a few hours to get there, and as we walked it became very dark and possibly dangerous, as we had no idea what we were stepping on. Arriving at the lighthouse, we found that it had been converted to an upscale restaurant. Covered in dirt and sweat, we were not welcome guests and were forced to wait outside for more than an hour until the car rental company came to dig us out. We named that area of the beach “sacred ground” because it was a place on the island Blake had never been to before. We spent another romantic afternoon at a butterfly zoo, and later we hiked the only mountain (really a large hill) on the island. Almost everywhere we went, we threw in adventuresome sex. One evening, for example, we tried driving down the highway while otherwise engaged. This was a part of our silly “us.”

As I look back now, as happy as I felt on Aruba, I still could not embrace deep contentment. I was able to enjoy myself because I chose to overlook things. The delusion that all would be well stayed with me, but the tension of knowing I was with a married man was also present, and I was never able to fully let down my guard and relax. I never knew what tomorrow would bring because things always seemed to change once we were back home and he was faced with having to choose between me and Beth again.

Blake was a night-time Houdini. The man could creep out a bedroom with stealth. I, however, suffer from the serious childhood trauma created by a mommy who tricked me into believing that she would snuggle with me all night in order to get me to sleep. As a young girl, I would doze off in full trust, but then I’d feel my mom’s arm move and wake up feeling betrayed and enraged. I am thus hypersensitive to the “arm move.” Blake pulled the arm move maneuver several times while we were there. I pretended to sleep, but I kept one eye half open and focused on the door. Somehow he could still get out of the room without my seeing him. One evening, I sat on the top step listening to him rustle papers and use the fax machine in the room below us.

The next morning I noticed papers in the trash and pulled them out. I had found a letter he had faxed home. It contained the words
I
miss
you
. When I inquired about this, he recovered smoothly. The letter was written to the entire household, he said; what’s so bad about telling his children that he missed them? I also found a purchase contract for another condo at the ski resort. Huh? We had just met with an attorney, and I thought the idea was to divide assets not accumulate them. “Business doesn’t stop, baby love,” he told me. He was buying the condo to flip at a large profit. Incidentally, they still own that property to this day.

Every time I was pulled out of my fairy tale illusions, I made the mistake of running my thoughts and feelings by him, which always gave him an opportunity to tell me what I wanted to hear. If I were to voice my feelings about actions I perceived from him to say that he had no intention of divorcing (adding to their financial portfolio and marital assets), he would argue that he had shown many actions to me that should reassure me that he did plan to divorce (properties he had sold to release assets and begin dividing funds between them). If I responded emotionally, he said I was “crazy”; if I was matter-of-fact, then he said I had “too much mind.”

We spent two weeks in Aruba and then departed for the Dominican Republic. As we arrived there, we were joined by several of Blake’s windsurfing friends. The trip to the Dominican had originally been planned as a “guys’ trip,” and so I was concerned about being the only woman in the group and worried that his buddies would see me as an intruder. When the guys headed out for their sporting events, Blake always stayed behind, wanting to spend time alone with me. It wasn’t long before I started to feel that the guys were seeing me as the nagging girlfriend who kept him away from his guy time. Time after time, therefore, I encouraged him to go with them. He wouldn’t leave me, however, and every time he declined to go, the tension inside me grew. I could see that the guys were growing irritated, and I felt that I was being blamed for his lack of participation. I could feel their thoughts of blame toward me, and this made me very uncomfortable and insecure. Eventually, I pushed him so hard to leave me on the sand and head off with the guys that he finally went.

After lying alone for far more hours than I had anticipated, I went out to search for him through the bars along the beach. I found him seated in one of them with a girl he had met on a previous visit to the island. He had told me about this girl, saying she was someone he “almost didn’t go back home” after meeting. When I met her in person, I was surprised that this was the
she
. This girl did not rival me (or Beth) in looks, personality, or intelligence. Further, as she began to join us regularly, I learned that she was currently living with a boyfriend from Holland and had a heroin problem. This is the competition? My insecurity began to build and her presence in our group elicited a snotty attitude from me toward Blake.

I tried to interact with the guys as much as possible and assure them that I was not there to wreck their good time, (or prostitute quest) but just as they started to accept me, Blake began to display bizarre jealous behaviors himself, always accusing me of being up to something that inevitably meant cheating. Instead of noticing the unfairness in his expectations of me to be his partner exclusively while he could not offer the same, I poured myself into reassuring him that I was faithful and devoted to him. One evening, after far too many “Cuba librés,” Blake began to accuse me of being too interested in one of his buddies. Then he started questioning my reasons for wanting to stay with “our friends.” Completely frustrated, I left and headed back to the hotel, walking alone along a dark and dangerous beach.

As I walked, I heard rustling in the bushes. My heart started racing, but a minute later a stray dog walked around a bush and began to walk alongside me. Holding my sandals and purse, and unable to hear much beyond the crashing waves, I kept going. Suddenly someone grabbed me from behind. Startled, I dropped my things and turned around. It was Blake. The dog growled and barked at him, Blake instantly began to hate the animal. But like a guardian angel, the dog stayed by my side, watching him. The animal followed at my side, all of the way to the hotel courtyard. I went inside and grabbed him a Twinkie from the vending machine as a thank-you for being my protective knight. Blake became more irate at my affection for my new little friend, thus our argument escalated.

Not wanting to speak to him while he was in that mood, I went right up to our room, then went out on the balcony to call home and check on my children. I spoke to their father, who told me how my girls were doing. While I was assuring him that all was well and that I was enjoying myself, I suddenly heard a loud noise behind me. As I turned around, I saw foam pouring down the balcony sliding door. Blake had thrown his beer at it. I struggled to keep my voice calm and not cause any concern on the part of my family. When I hung up, Blake came out. We continued to argue but I turned cold and refused to speak to Blake after telling him he had too much to drink that night and I was not going to talk about things until both of us were completely sober. My unwillingness to address our issues only caused the fight to escalate until I went inside and started to pack my things, telling him I was going home. While we were yelling at each other, the room phone rang. I assumed it was the hotel operator phoning to ask about the noise, but as I reached for the phone, Blake shoved me away and ripped the phone out of my hands.

I did not understand the reaction until I learned that it was Beth calling. Blake had never given her telephone numbers and room information in the past, we had never been bothered before and so I never suspected she would be calling now. Not wanting to put up with Blake being an ass anymore, I determined then and there to go home. But when I opened my purse, I discovered that Blake had removed all the cash from my wallet and hidden my passport. This gave me my second panic attack. I was angry that my free will had been forcefully removed, that I was under his control, and I began to scream and cry.

Trapped in a foreign country with no passport or cash, I scurried to leave anyway, but Blake grabbed around my waste, sat on the bed and held me down. This only increased my panic and hyperventilation. Eventually, he promised to leave me alone for the rest of the evening if I promised to not go and talk in the morning. I tossed and turned that night on the couch getting minimal sleep. I didn’t really want to go. I wanted us to be like we were in Aruba and I didn’t like the tension that was building between us on the island. I fell asleep both sad and angry.

The next morning, I woke up to find him kneeling on the floor beside me, crying apologetic tears for losing his mind the previous night, saying all of the tension was a manifestation of his fear of losing me. He said he had never felt so much love for a woman before and didn’t know how to trust me, he needed to know that I was always going to be there for him, that I wasn’t going to bail if times got tough. So, again, I reassured him of my undying love and comforted him.

We decided we needed time alone to reconnect and resumed our adventures without the guys and set out to explore other parts of the island. Toward the final days we spent in the Dominican Republic, we had dinner once more with our group. I was determined to set things right with them and wanted them to like me as much as his friends in Aruba had. It felt important to me to have fun as a group so they would get the right opinion of me. After we finished eating, the group strolled off, separating along the beach, investigating the nightlife. As Blake and I walked, I discovered a bar which offered one-dollar piña coladas. I wanted to find the guys and share our fortunate find. Aren’t piña coladas mandatory for tropical vacationing? I darted off, but ended up face-down in sand under a volleyball net. When I looked up, Blake was crouched above me. A crowd had gathered and all I could hear was a woman screaming, “That’s a bad man, that’s a bad man!”

Before I could move, Blake was hoisted away by men I assumed were the police. I realized he had knocked me down. It took a minute for my head to clear, and then the screaming woman came over to comfort me. I thanked her and began to walk aimlessly, unsure of where I should go or what I should do. I didn’t understand what had just happened or why. I soon spotted the guys, however, and let them know the night had ended for us. I told them what had happened and they tried to lighten the drama by encouraging me to stay with them awhile so Blake and I could both cool off. I was standing near one of the bars when one of the men handed me a cocktail. But as I reached for it, Blake reappeared. Accusing me of kissing his friend, he shoved me. His friend, now pissed at being dragged into the drama, grabbed Blake and dragged him away from the bar. As they stood outside yelling at each other, the other guys asked me to leave and take our upheaval with me.

Blake and I did sit down together the next day to discuss our troubles. We decided that alcohol was a large factor. We needed to step away from the vacation night life. We were pouring alcohol on unresolved emotions and it was causing the emotions to be poorly expressed. Also significant was the guys’ lack of understanding of the dynamics of our relationship. The stress of Blake’s unresolved marriage was taking its toll on our relationship. It was destroying our beautiful love story and filling us both with insecurity. We agreed to disengage from the group and stay away from the party scene and anyone who sought to destroy our relationship.