Relationships… I’ve had quite a few in the 52 years and almost 8 months of my life. Too many maybe, but they have all served to teach me about life, and about myself. A lot about myself, and mostly the things I don’t want, even though I made some mistakes more than once. Stupid? No. Too much trust in other people. That is one my pitfalls, trusting people, and even when they have betrayed my trust, I tend to trust them again, because everybody deserves a second chance, right?
Let me give you a bird’s eye view of the relationships I had…
My very first ‘serious’ relationship happened when I was fourteen years old, and it lasted about three months. He came to me on the rebound, after he had broken up with another girl in the class, for the umpteenth time. He was a hunk. The hunk of our class. One of the hunks of school. I walked on clouds because he wanted me. And I cried my eyes out when he dumped me and went back to her, just like he did so many times before. Two years after this, he was the one who caused the accident that killed my best friend. And exactly nine months after her death, my daughter was born, and named after my friend.
Since I mentioned my daughter, I suppose I have to mention her father too. He was only the second serious boyfriend I had, and only two years older than me. I panicked because I had a bad test at school, didn’t know how to tell my parents and was so ashamed because of the test, I wanted to go out of school. The only way to do that was to get pregnant, so I did. No, I never married him, because I came to my senses before that. He disappeared and I raised my daughter alone.
I met him when my daughter was about a year and a half, and married him two years later, meaning to stay with him for the rest of my life, the way we all believe we will when we get married. I divorced him two years and one month after I married him, because he physically abused my daughter. He disappeared from our lives (by then I also had a son) because (and these are his words) if he couldn’t be a father to them every day, he wasn’t prepared to be a father from a distance.
He was four years younger than I was, and in the months that we had a relationship, I really thought it would be for keeps. When he cheated on me with a woman who was older than me, it hurt me more than I wanted to admit back then, and was part of what caused me to end up in a terrible relationship. I had contact with this man again in recent years, and only then he admitted that he was too coward to tell me he couldn’t be with me anymore, because he wanted children of his own and I couldn’t give him any.
This relationship ended after nine and a half months, but it should never have been. The No Consent series that I recently started is about what happened back then. When I work on that story (which has already been written in 2007/2008), I do a couple of pieces and then I leave it for a couple of days, because it fucks with my mind big time.
My very first relationship in Europe was with a grower of marijuana. Now, with my conservative upbringing and me always only seeing the good in someone, I was very slow with learning that he actually sold the stuff he grew inside and outside the house. The relationship lasted for 18 months, and when I left him, I had to restart the procedures to be able to stay in the country. I had a permit to stay and thankfully also to work, and a police officer who was willing to drag out the procedures (I didn’t ask, he offered) for as long as possible. This is not the only reason why this relationship is embedded in my memories. No, he is also the one who introduced me to anal sex.
Like I said, thankfully I could work, and that’s how I met my second husband. He was sweet, to me, to my kids. We were planning to get married somewhere in 1999, but then I got the dreaded letter: I had to leave the country in four weeks. The next day I moved in with him, six weeks later we were married and six months later I knew I shouldn’t have done it. I was ashamed. So fucking ashamed. There was no way I could face the world with yet another divorce. We had so many fights. I begged him to again be the man I wanted to marry, and not this disinterested man. We were married for almost four years when he mentioned divorce. That was the moment I realized I was fighting a lost cause. Three more months of hell followed before I had my own place and could move it. One good thing that came from this marriage was that I got my Dutch passport.
It won’t come as a surprise to anyone which is the best relationship I ever had, and will ever have. Yes, it’s Master T. I am still as in love with him as I was in April 2002, the month we really started talking to each other, as the three years before that was all business emails where I ordered and he delivered. April 2002 was the month I moved into my own place, and in July 2002 my divorce was final. In June 2002, over the phone, Master T said ‘I think I love you’, but we both knew we were deeply in love. However, both of us came from relationships, and neither of us wanted to fuck up what we had. Master T told me to first ‘lose my wild hairs’ and it was in May 2003 that we finally decided we wanted to be a couple. In September 2003 I met his mother, and in December 2003 my kids met Master T. In August 2004 I moved in with him and on 1 November 2005 we got married. It’s been seventeen years since we fell in love, almost fourteen years of marriage, and we are still very much in love, but not only that. We are so much more.
We have no idea what the future will bring us with Master T’s health, but as long as we are together, we can conquer the world. There was a time when I didn’t believe in ‘for better or for worse’ simply because of my track record with relationships which I think would last forever, but my relationship with Master T has restored my faith.
For us it really is: for better or worse!
© Rebel’s Notes