Reader Shares Her Story and Wins a Free 10-Minute Reading!
Here’s the winning entry from our Halloween contest! (Thanks, Cat!) We asked our readers what their worst relationship horror story was, and we got some shocking answers! (Note: Winning entry was chosen on the basis of writing, NOT how bad what happened to you was! Our condolences to everyone who has suffered the hardships they discussed in the comments.)
Thanks to everybody who participated, and stay tuned for our next contest soon! In the meantime, take advantage of our excellent introductory offer.
So, without further ado, here’s our winner:
“BOO!
“This was the subject of the email I sent a long, lost flame several years ago. Then, in the e-mail text, ‘Do you still walk out of scary movies?’
“I wondered if he would guess who I was, or remember me at all. It had been 16 years since we had parted amicably; he went to grad school in another state, and I stayed behind to complete my BFA. We had shared some passionate moments and the relationship had promise, so we kept in contact. We wrote letters (no e-mail back then!) and he sent me copies of his work – he was getting his Master’s is creative writing. I wasn’t taken with his writing skills. I began to suspect he was dating someone else, and I soon met someone else; so we parted ways long distance with very little drama. I chalked it up to bad timing.
“Before he left for grad school, I talked him into going to a scary movie with me and a girlfriend. He said it wasn’t his thing, but he went anyway, to be a good sport. The ghost story was a drama from another era, about a young college woman who had captured the hearts of several fraternity brothers. Jealousy and foul play ended in her death and a cover up. No blood and guts, just eerie and disturbing. At one point during the movie, he leapt out of his seat and went to the lobby. After a few minutes, I went to check on him and he encouraged me to go back and watch the rest of the film without him. Since I had a girlfriend with me and the movie was almost over, I agreed. The night ended on an uncomfortable note, and we didn’t see much of each other afterwards.
“Fast forward: I was cleaning out a closet, and found a dusty box of his letters and stories. I read them again and confirmed my initial judgement – lacking in warmth and humanity. More technical than anything. So I put the box in the trash and forgot about it.
“Or did I? A few nights later I had a dream about him. In the dream, I was searching for him, trying to find him before he left for grad school so I could say goodbye. It was dark and cold, snowing; I saw the warm light of a bookstore nearby, so I ducked inside. I found myself searching through the stacks of books to see if his name was on one of them. Was he an author yet? And behold; I found it! The cover design was a photo of hot-air balloons, and in the back of the book I found his picture. Dark, curly hair, large sensitive eyes – yes. That was the man I remembered from college.
“That dream stuck with me for several weeks. Then one day I was searching for something on the internet, and it occured to me to type his name in the browser. Voila! There he was, a writing professor and an author! My heart was pounding out of my chest as I saw the book jacket design under his name… a photo of hot-air balloons!
“At the time, I was a freelance artist and stay-at-home mom. My marriage was unhappy, and I was lonely for adult companionship and conversation. The internet was a relatively new phenomenon, and I was learning the ropes so I could submit my artwork electronically. I felt I had every reason to stay on line, day and night. My husband disagreed, but he was not prepared to insist that I abandon my freelance career. We kept an uneasy peace.
“After seeing the website and an e-mail address for contact, I was torn. It had been a long time, and it would be embarrassing if he didn’t remember me. But curiosity prevailed (meow!), and I fired off my first message. Turns out, he remembered me quite well. We went back and forth, catching up at breakneck speed. He also was in a lifeless marriage. He thought of me as the one who got away. And finally, his one wish was to see me again.
“I was enraptured. Thrilled beyond all reason. I remember dancing around the house, with Puccini blaring in the background. I had managed to reach back through time and pull this handsome, talented man back into my present. His beautiful professions of love and passion were everything I’d ever dreamed of.
“Weeks went by filled with countless e-mails, phone calls, cards, letters and gifts. He made plans to visit me – his guise was a week long camping trip, and mine to steal away from home at every opportunity to the romantic little hotel where he planned to stay instead. We were both too excited to be careful, and before long, my husband intercepted a letter from him. My husband found his contact information, and called him at home in the middle of the night, waking him and his wife.
“I was undaunted. I believed my true love would be there for me after the smoke cleared. I knew we would find a way to be together when it was all said and done. But I was wrong. My long distance lover bailed on me after his wife went into hysterics. As a writer, he depended on her career (university department head) for support of their lifestyle, and maybe even his own teaching position. He was not prepared, as I was, to throw it all away for ‘love.’
“I should definitely have consulted a psychic during this tumultuous experience. I had consulted one a year or two earlier, who advised me that a man with dark, curly hair would act as a ‘bridge’ in my life. And that turned out to be true. After marriage counseling and more work with a personal therapist, my marriage ended, and I went off on my own. As a divorced mother of two, I had to claw my way out of poverty, guilt, and despair. It’s been fourteen years since my ecstactic dance with Puccini, and I still have trouble scraping up enough money for a psychic reading. But this is the life I chose of my own free will, and I live it without regret.”
Remember: “The Universe breaks our hearts till we learn to keep them open.” – Shyla ext. 5431
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