Well...it has been a while since I've actually sat down here at the computer. I've been having this nostalgic breakdown.

I mean, have you ever tried to go to sleep, but all of a sudden every stupid thing you've ever done in the past keeps popping in your head?

I have been up for the past three nights. I can't sleep and I'm going nuts.

Paul called me about three nights ago.

"Rhonda...I need to talk to you."

"I have NOTHING to say to you, Paul. Why don't you just leave me alone?"

"Rhonda. I love you. I'll always love you."

"Leave me alone."

"I just wanted to tell you that. I'll go now."

*click*

What the hell was that all about? I don't want him! I don't need him anymore! I want to move on and just when I try he pulls me back into his sick little world.

I'm apologizing in advance for this nostalgic moment...

I was eighteen and a freshman in college when I met Paul. He was tall, good looking, and had this fabulous body. Everyone he knew looked up to him and worshipped the ground he walked on.

I had known him because our Greek organizations were sister/brother. I never thought someone like that would go for me.

At a party one night he came up to me and asked me to dance. I'll never forget, the song was "Fly" by Sugar Ray and he held me close as if it were a slow song. He grabbed my back and whispered "You could stand to lose a few, couldn't you?"

I pushed him away and ran out to the back patio. He ran after me, yanked my arm and pulled me around to the back of the house.

"Can't you take a joke?"

"I don't think I want to talk to you." I said.

"Oh, for the love of God. Don't be such a baby. What are you eighteen or eight?"

"Asshole!" I cried and started back towards the patio.

At that moment he pulled me to him and kissed me in a way I had never felt. My legs went weak. My entire body failed me. I don't know if anyone has experienced that, but it is truly amazing.

"You and me kid. We're going to be something special. You've got spunk. I like that."

After that we were inseparable.

We had been dating for six perfect months when he proposed. He took me to this romantic spot on top of a hill, turned the music in his truck up really loud, and we danced. Then he pulled out this absolutely beautiful ring and I started to cry. When I looked up, I saw all of mine and his friends coming out from the dark. I was crying and laughing and so happy. I thought I would always be that happy.

Everyone thought we were nuts. Paul told his parents first. His dad threatened to come down and take him out of school. His parents were big shot society people and wanted him out of school before he got married.

My parents were equally upset. They eventually came through out of fear of losing their only daughter, but they were never happy about it.

A lot of our friends deserted us. We were no longer invited out places, and once good friends became distant.

I could see Paul's resentment building, but I summed it up to pre-wedding jitters.

We were married on September 19, 1997. It was the happiest day of my life until my Dad informed me I was cut off and Paul got drunk and spent half the reception in the bathroom throwing up. His groomsmen were out of their mind drunk and trying to score with anything they could find.

Our honeymoon was one week in Hawaii. Paul told me I looked fat in my two piece and made me buy a one piece. He got drunk every night and hit on all of the waitresses. At night, instead of our lovemaking being sweet, he would take me with such force that I would run to the bathroom and cry afterwards.

When we returned, things weren't much better. Paul's Dad had bought us a house with the stipulation that he not ask for another thing. He left messages on our machine like "Son, whenever you need that annulment, let me know."

We were both still in school. Paul only had a year and a half to go, but I had at least three. Our home was filled with tension and resentment. He would work after classes and come home, get dressed, and go out with his buddies every night.

He would come home drunk, wake me up and have sex with me. It was my "wifely duty." I was so messed up, I was grateful that he was coming home to me instead of cheating. I came to find out that wasn't the case.

Girls started calling and leaving messages. When I asked Paul about them, he would get mad and tell me to mind my own business.

I cried every night, but I never thought it would get as bad as it did.

About a two and a half years into our marriage, Paul turned into a REALLY surly, mean drunk. He would come home, yell at me and start hitting me. At first it was just bruises and little cuts and scrapes.

One night we went out with some friends. He spent the entire night hitting on and dancing with other girls. I got up to leave, and when he saw me leaving he started to chase after me.

"Dammit Rhonda. Don't be like that!"

"Get away from me you asshole!"

"Look you little bitch, I can do better that you, I always could. You better thank your lucky stars I put up with you!"

"FUCK YOU!" I yelled at him.

He then grabbed me and pushed me down the stairs. When I fell to the bottom, he grabbed my head and started hitting it against the sidewalk. Several people saw and came running over, trying to pull him off of me.

I don't remember anything until I woke up in the hospital. I had to go through physical therapy and they say I will never be the same.

I'm also emotionally damaged, which is harder to heal.

Paul got off nearly Scott free. He got put on probation, then got a high paying job in Dallas and took off. I had to get a restraining order and I live every day in emotional upheaval.

I don't miss him. I DO miss who I used to be.

Previous Entry - Next Entry

Miss Any?