When I heard the term emotional abuse I thought of women being victimized by men, not a man being abused by a woman—until it happened to me.
Oh, I know what I’m saying is sexist and politicallly incorrect but it’s really hard sometimes to reform all your archaic and antiquated ideas, particularly if you’re nearing forty and haven’t really been into clubbing or the dating scene.
At any rate, my harsh awakening has brought me here—sitting in Martin Wallace’s office, the shrink I occasionally see when my life goes sideways and stops making sense.
And that’s what Jeanne Dubois did to me—she completely turned my world upside down and left me clinging to the wreckage of whatever bits of reputation I could salvage.
I don’t expect Dr.Wallace to be a miracle worker but I will say he’s a patient and perceptive listener and always guides me toward listening to my wise mind, which is hard to do when everything else around me is falling apart.
I’m recounting to him my experiences with Jeanne Dubois whom I thought at the time was a caring and compassionate person.
But it’s hard describing my relationship with this woman because in retelling the story I have to relive the ordeal.
I forced myself to close my eyes and plunge in.
Our first date was magical—I found her to be thoroughly enchanting and captivating. I followed that first night with a theatre outing to see The Book of Mormon at The Princess of Wales Theatre, and drinks afterwards at Dazzling.
And yes, she was dazzling—drawing men’s gazes wherever we went.
So we continued on seeing each and other—enjoying the rich nightlife of bars—rubbing shoulders with stars filming at Hollywood North, and then looking for after-hours excitement in the myriad delights of the towering lights.
It was thoroughly decadent and shimmering like a dream, like a page ripped out of Gatsby.
And then, it abruptly ended.
Martin stopped his note taking and stared at me.
Something was being demanded of me, whether I could do it or not.
“I have no idea why,” I explained. “It was bizarre—one moment we were lovers—and the next we weren’t.”
“Did you ask what caused her sudden change of feelings?”
“I did, but she replied flippantly—Oh, you’ll have to excuse my infirmities, Paul—I lose interest so fast. It can’t be helped.”
And that was that.
Oh, I tried to push further, but she was evasive.
"I’m just too overwhelmed with work at the moment, Paul," she explained, "—and besides, what would it matter? It happens all the time—I just lose interest. I’m sorry, but that’s the way I am."
Wallace arched an eyebrow. “So, as far as you know, you did nothing to insult or upset her?”
I took a deep breath, and then sighed. “Believe me, Dr. Wallace, I’ve spent hours going over everything we said and did, and to the best of my knowledge, I can say there’s absolutely no explanation for why she suddenly turned on me.”
He nodded, “It is strange.”
“Look, I know there are vagaries in romance—caprices and inexplicable changes in a partner’s feelings. And I accepted that—it was hard, but I had to come to terms with Jeanne’s whims or peculiarities. And as far as I was concerned, it was a mystery, but it was over. Game ended—period.”
“It happens, I suppose—it’s just peculiar the way she quickly lost interest.”
But what happened next really unnerved me and I was totally unprepared for it.
