A Prize Worth Fighting For

Staring out across the ocean, I saw no point in my life. I drew another cigarette from the pack that I had bought with my credit card. I wanted to die.

Online dating back in the mid-2000s was not as sophisticated as it is now. I paid a subscription fee in the belief that I would meet a better class of men.

“What does it matter if he can’t spell?” Kate had asked, smiling over a large glass of wine. Her wish list was that her date must have his own teeth and hair. We giggled over more cheap wine.

After three decades of marriage, I uprooted, having blown my life to smithereens, and packed my worldly goods into my car. Sad, when I think back. A lifetime of belongings crammed into that tiny space. And all because I fell out of love with my husband.

I re-grouped and after a year, felt ready to face the world again.

An expert dater wrote that it was best to meet for coffee in a busy, public place. Then, you could meet again if you were compatible. She explained that if you meet for a meal and you can’t bear the man opposite you, then it’s awkward to make your escape. Good point.

The first man I met was a disaster. He kept showing me pictures of his Mum and his dog. I barely made it to the bottom of my coffee cup before I shot back to my newly rented apartment to finish the ironing.

The next few dates were not much better.

Darren was shy. We e-mailed before talking on the telephone. Then, when we eventually met up, I felt as though I knew him. I was quite taken with him. He drove a fancy car and ran his own business. I still didn’t know precisely what he did; he was always vague about things. He took me to fine restaurants, bombarded me with gifts, and swept me clean off my feet. For the first time in ages, I felt happy and wanted and it felt so good. My daughter, who was a teenager at the time, hated him. I chose to ignore her.

Kate didn’t like him either. She said there was something odd about him. I took that to mean she was jealous. She was still paying her subscription to the dating website. I had canceled mine, soon after meeting Darren. He’d said, ‘What was the point? We had found each other’.

Ten years later, I was staring across the ocean, smoking my fifth cigarette in a row. I wasn’t a smoker. It was the stress and the worry of the God-awful mess that I had gotten myself into. I had no money and nowhere to go. I was trapped into staying with Darren.

I had a light-bulb moment one day when I was off work, ill. If I couldn’t afford to rent somewhere on my own, I would have to share. It seemed extreme but it was worth exploring. I went online and found a place near the shop where I worked in the office as a bookkeeper. I sent an e-mail and arranged to meet the lady after work the very next day.

Lilian and I hit it off immediately. She was a retiree living alone in a beautiful house which she kept immaculate. When she showed me the pristine double room I almost cried. I had found my haven. Away from the monster who had ruined my life. But I still didn’t realize the extent of the damage he had done to me and how much worse it was going to get.

Lilian and I agreed on a price for the rent, all-in, except for food. I felt elated. At long last, I could escape Darren’s vice-like grip on me. I needed help and turned to Kate and my daughter, who now had her own car and could drive. I had been deprived of my car and hadn’t driven for many years. Since shortly after meeting Darren, in fact.

The three of us concocted an escape plan and put it into action the following week when Darren was out doing whatever it was that he did. I prayed that he wouldn’t come back early, but in the event, he did. We all panicked but I went into survival mode.

“Come on, grab what’s left, and let’s move it!” My co-conspirators went ahead and Darren caught me head-on. He saw the box in my arms, the emptied wardrobe (I hardly owned anything in the swanky apartment we shared), and glowered at me. I was like a rabbit caught in headlights, but shot out through the open door and kept going. Tires squealed as we sped off and we kept checking the rear-view mirror as we raced to my new home.

Lilian made us all tea and sat us down in her cozy living room. She was such a calming influence. I was shaking like a leaf.

If it wasn’t for my daughter, I wouldn’t be writing this today. I could not have deprived her of her mother. I knew she loved me, despite what I had done - gone against her wishes and stayed with Darren. It all happened slowly at first. I trusted him. I thought we were forever. But I didn’t marry him, despite him asking me. I was so naïve. And foolish to trust him.

Some weeks later Mike, my boss, said that he had a spare ticket to a charity function his wife was organizing for Cancer Research, and did I want to go? I thanked him and said ‘no’. He understood. When I told Lilian she got cross.

“Go and get your hair done, dust off that long frock I saw when I helped unpack your things and tell Mike you’re going!” she reprimanded.

Saturday evening arrived and Lilian insisted on driving me the short distance to the shop where Mike was hosting a small champagne reception before we all set off to the posh ‘do’. Mike introduced me to some people and I politely engaged with them, not taking much notice.

I was seated next to Alan; he was very handsome in his DJ and I felt a frisson of excitement as we chatted easily together. When I told Lilian the next morning about the fabulous evening I had had, she looked at me warily. “Be careful” she warned.

Three weeks later, Alan asked me to marry him. I accepted. We got engaged but waited for a year to give his children a chance to get to know me better. We have been married for four years and I have never been so happy. My daughter adores her step-father and we are part of a wider family who are kind and loving.

I had never heard the term ‘passive-aggressive narcissist’ and it slowly dawned on me that I had been the victim of some terrible abuse over many years. Not surprisingly, Darren had neglected to mention that on his dating profile.

Following a lengthy court battle, he ended up with everything. But I got the best prize. I got my life back.

* * *

This is a true story although I have changed the names of those involved to protect myself and my family.