The reply... lol

Why am I not surprised?

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This is what I sent her:

Hi A****,

I have been discussing ***** with a friend and may be interested in starting something small with her. I have to diversify what I do, as some of my work is too sporadic now to rely entirely upon.

Please let me know if there is a way I could slowly buy some licenses for which you have already paid. It’s still in idea phase, but I need to know.

I hope you are doing well.

Sethy

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This was the reply:

this is a a shock to me.
I never expected to hear from you again.
This last t year has almost been the end of me not that you would ever see your roll in that.
You ditched me after I put everything on the line for you
Now you want my dream!
Calculate what i paid you and what you did
What I spent to convince you to to this
Do you ever plan on pay me back?
I paied you for doing a job you never did.
Now you and your girlfriend want to milk me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!You have less scrooples than anyone I know excepy my brother
but then you both had grandmothers that thought you were perfect,
Lucky you
So For now no
And please dont steal my dreams

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I guess the alcohol and the delusions are still there. I guess she still thinks I am the bad guy. I am eagerly awaiting the follow up mails that will inevitably follow. I hope she does, because it is actually amusing how she can change from day to day. Though it does sound a little final - though I have thought that before.

I guess I have two choices now. Either just drop the idea, or go through the (more expensive) back door and do it anyway. I have a conscience though, and reading in between the lines it looks like she will be moving back after all. The reason I say that is that if she wasn't intending using the licenses herself, she is certainly taking "biting your own nose off to spite your face" to its extreme.

My grandmother thought I was perfect? hehe.... fuck

The "girlfriend" she is referring to is my sister-in-law by the way.

Hell hath no fury..........

Actually...

Actually, the making out in the parking lot last night was a pretty significant turning point in the current events of this little life I call my own.

Since stalker girl, I have pretty much put up the defense walls all around me again. Being hurt really hurts. And sometimes we forget to deal with it, imagining it will just spirit away. But being hurt puts cracks into all the good things you believe about yourself sometimes. Sometimes they are just tiny little hairline ones, and sometimes not even a fresh coat of paint and filler will hide them.

So there we were, Iain and I, minding our own business. There was a cute guy sitting close by, so I was just happy being with a friend, and the fantasy part of my mind had something to prod around.

Willem arrived with gf in tow, and J. J and Willem shared an apartment at some time a few years ago. They worked together and slept together. It wasn't a relationship for Willem, but I think J thought it was. Neeedless to say, things happened and Willem moved out. I don't ask.

Now, I had never actually met J before, so here i am wondering about him. The gaydar is kinda sniffing, but not finding too many clues. He quietly sips on his drink, and I think I catch him looking at me, but pass it off as wishful thinking. He leaves us for a bit to go to the bathroom, and Willem pulls me aside and asks me to at least chat to the guy because he really thinks I am hot (hehe). Then he tells me his name and I put two and two together. So we chat, dance a bit, I touch his neck, he puts his hand down the back of my jeans. But he is shy in front of the crowd, so I get him to follow me outside. We go to a dark spot, and I pull him close and we kiss. It was so intense for both of us, we have to seperate for a bit to breathe, just to take in the moment. We kiss again, this time slower, deeper. I love his stubble against my neck as he breathes in my ear.

So we return to the crowd. He asks me if we can see each other after he drops the other guys off. He is the designated driver, but Willem and gf don't look like they are ready to leave. We swop numbers. I need to leave, the alcohol is catching me and I hadn't eaten enough. I tell him I will be up, so if he wants come over later, to call me for directions.

He doesn't call, but its okay. The point here is that I really felt good about myself again last night. I may see him again, I may not. I will text him later to see if he is okay.

When good sex ends badly.... (Part Four)

Okay, so I am on a roll, forgive me.

Come October, two months have passed. I have in the interim consulted a lawyer. I have access to an account where we have put money in. He reads it that I should Invoice her for services rendered according to our agreement, and draw what I need. I do this. He advises a restraining order if she enters the enters the country.

I wake up one morning to find her callling out from the street below where I live. I have no choice but to let her in. We talk, try to get to grips with what has happened, try and figure away forward. She has flown here to try and make the business work at the very least. We are both still passionate about it. Not the money, the passion to do what we are meant to do.

It is Tuesday, she has a flight out on Saturday. My kids are with me for Friday. My oldest has a prize giving function I have to attend. I am stressing about that.

We see prospective clients. It goes well. I think we make a good business team, we compliment each other. We have some good prospects. I had already invited my mom for Thursday night. So she comes around, and I stock with some brandy - my Mom and I like a brandy or two. She buys wine for herself. She assures em that the only time she gets out of control is when she is not with me. We have a good time, and my mom goes home. She loses it about a half hour after that, telling me I am a cunt, and am using her, and I fucked her life up, and I am just like her ex-husband. Unbelievably, the only way I can get her to bed and to sleep is to have give in to her constant begging for my cock.

I feel dirty. Try sleep on the couch. I get up early, run some errands, keep calling her to see if she is awake, she doesn't answer. i collect the girls after school and go home. She is up and showered, and quiet.

I take her for a walk, and tell her that she can stay the night so she can catch the plane the next day, but that she had fucked it all up once again. Once she gets on the plane, I want the never to speak to me again. She agrees, and promises no more alcohol until she goes. I have to go to the prize giving, and my youngest opts to stay with the girl. I get assurance that everything will be okay. the prize giving is over, and I am nervous. i get home, she seems fine, and I send the girls to bed.

I open the fridge, and notice that the three beers that I had left were now gone. So is the rest of a quarter bottle of Vodka that had been there for weeks. the bottle is still there, but it is empty.

I confront her, freaking out because she promised not to drink, and she couldn't stay one night while my daughter was in her care. She goes totally over the edge, and lies on the floor, telling me she would rather kill herself than not be with me.

I give her a choice: go to bed, or pack her stuff and leave. Angrily, she packs her stuff. I get her into her car, give her directions to the nearest hotel, and she is off, but not beofre she is screaming and shouting abuse. I live in a quiet neighbourhood. It echo's.

Two hours later, she is back, hooting outside my place. I have no choice but to go out to her. Lights are starting to come on. I sit in the car with her. There are empty beer cans on the floor. She is incoherent, abusive crap spewing from her vocal chords. I sit with her, hoping she will pass out. But she has had much much more, and perhaps other stuff too. Eventually, at around 5am, she says she needs to pee, and I escort her to the bathroom, where she passes out. I clean up and carry her to the bed.

As soon as the sun is up, I wake the girls, and take them to my mother, explaining more or less what happened. I know she has to be at the airport at 2pm, so I decide to call her at one to make she is awake, and to go home to help her get there if needs be.

I call my best mates, and start drinking. We talk shite, and I am doing the best I can not to vent the anger inside. the alcohol keeps me sane, even lifts the spirits a bit. My mates agree that if i get too drunk, they will escort her to the aiport. but I don't, and at midday, she calls me.

Does this mean it's over? she asks me....

I can't believe she is even asking such a stupid question! Damn right! I say. She says she is about to leave. My mates drive me home, and do a recce to make sure she has gone, and that no vandalism had occured. All was good.

I get mails of accusations after that. I had stolen money from her, and she was going to call the police. And then conspiracy theories about me stealing her clients.....

So this all ended in October. She was out here in December, and called me to ask if she could see me just for an hour. I said no.

Two weeks ago, I get a mail from her, saying something along the lines of she can't breathe without me. I ignored it of course.

I know it is not over. She will be here in July again. And who knows what might happen then? I do know that it is over.

When good sex ends badly.... (Part Three)

We Skype, build plans for a venture we want to start together. I see no reason why I can't spend a lot of time with her once she is back. We discuss living together. I love her kids, my kids love her. I am not in a relationship. I am beginning to think that this may be my last chance to be with someone, to grow old with someone. And the sex....

I turn down a contract that was about to start as the timing would clash with our own startup. We both put money and time into putting everything together.

And then it hit the fan. I was out with the kids at my brother's place. It was a last chance for them to see their cousins before they flew back to the UK. My mother was ill. Money was starting to dry up on my end. We had disagreed on some issues in terms of timing and location. So she calls me, blind drunk. I had begun realising she had a drinking problem some weeks earlier. We would be Skyping, and then at some point, she would go off on a tangent, going over the edge of her alcohol tolerance. I left neville because of his alcoholism. It leaves a bad taste. And it was becoming more and more frequent.

So she calls me, drunk. The line is bad, and she is not making sense. She texts me, tells me to go home so we can Skype, she desperately needs to talk. I tell her it's impossible, my kids come first, and it is their day, it would have to wait. After that, I get text after text, telling me I am a cunt, I don't care, just like all men etc etc....

I am thrown! I try to act normal for my kids and the family, but they keep coming through, more and more abusive.

So when I get home, I mail her, angry. Tell her to fuck off, that my kids will always come first. Always. And not to call me when she was so drunk again, and if she did, I would turn my phone off. The next day, I get a letter of apology. I had some things to do, and when I get home later in the day, she Skypes me again. It's late evening where she is, and she's drunk again. I get angry, she's horny, and wants to see me naked, I tell her I am not in the mood, and she needs to sleep as there was work the next day. She launches into the abuse again. I sign off. I get more than twenty abusive texts. And emails in between. Until it was way beyond 3am where she is.

I copy all her texts and her mails into one mail, and once again tell her I don't need her abusive crap, and we should just call it quits. I don't need it in my life, and certainly my kids don't need it in their lives, as it was bound to overflow and affect them.

After more abuse via text and email over the next week or so, I shut my email account down, block her on Skype, Facebook, get a temporary mobile number. I have an appointment with my therapist, I intended discussing how to cope with being so happy. I mail her in advance the SIXTY SEVEN pages of mails between us.

When I get there, the good Doctor simply says: Stay away from this woman: She's a pyschopath.

When good sex ends badly.... (Part Two)

So during the year, we Skype a lot, talk about aspirations, regrets, experiences, lovers. Basically, we got to know each other really well. At some point, we start discussing her return to South Africa. She has spent most of her working life teaching at International schools, and since her ex husband cheated on her with another of her colleagues, things had reached an awkward point. She has this dream of opening her own school, but back home and close to her family here.

In July last year, she returns for her annual holiday and I go with her to visit her dad. He is an old school German with the driest sense of humour, and I love him to bits. They live on a farm some way out of the city, so we opt to stay over. We drink red wine, eat good wholesome food, and talk shite. Her kids love me, we go for walks, I spend hours with them, rolling around in the grass, climbing trees.

We share a bed that night, and things get a little intimate. She's drunk and horny. She says things like, if only you weren't gay, I could take you places. She goes further and further, kissing my chest, her hand taking me through my jeans. We kiss. She unbuttons my jeans and takes me in her hands. I am hard, but not in a good place suddenly. I ask her to stop. I don't want anything to happen. So things become awkward. She is embarrassed. We fall asleep, on opposite sides of the bed.

I had a therapy session the next day. I discuss it with the good Doctor. I admit that it made me feel like I felt with Trevor when I am with her. Stifled, wrong.

The girl and I don't talk for several days, she stays with her father and I return home. We had booked to fly to the coast to where her mother lives. She calls some days later, and apologises for sulking, and please can I come with to her mom's. I agree, and before I know it, we are off on a plane. We pick up a rental, and drive for three hours to the village where they live. Her Mom treats me like her son-in-law. The one who should have been.

There is nothing to do in this town, so we lay around in the garden with the kids, reading, drinking wine, soaking up the sun and each other. Over the three nights we were there, we were always intimate, always almost, but never going all the way. We leave a day early and book a room in the coastal town close to the beach. Spend some time playing in the sand. It's winter, but gloriously warm and the kids are brave enough to play in the surf. We see a dolphin show, visit the aquarium, laugh a lot. Drink some more.

That night, we had more than our usual couple of bottles of wine. We had spent some time next to the pool, ordering cocktails from the bar. Ater the kids were asleep, we were lying on the bed. We kiss. It's been a romantic day, people have been thinking I am the father, and we are a happily married couple. The mood spills over. We're naked and she is kissing my body again. Soon she is kneeling over me, kissing my nipples. She admits she masturbates while I am in the shower, imagining being there with me. She is so close to me, I can feel the heat of her through my cock. I can't take it anymore, and pull her down on me. She orgasms almost immediately, then takes me in her mouth. Soon she is back on me, driving me to places I have never been before. The alcohol has me enjoying the ride. She's a noisy lover, talking dirty, sometimes crying out involuntarily. She comes many times. After I am done, we collapse, exhausted. It's early hours in the morning. I awake later, she is touching me again. We sneak another bout before the kids come through.

We fly back to my place. The sex is endless. She can't stop. She is the initiator. The shower, the couch, all the beds. We go to movies. She guides my hand between her legs, I feel her orgasm, watch her bite her lip, choke back the sound that wants out. She blows me in the car.

I tell her it's okay, it's all new for me, it turns her on more.

She flies back home, a sudden lack of sexual noise in my home.

When good sex ends badly.... (Part One)

Or rather how we should not imagine that a past romance can be rekindled so easily.

She was my first real kiss. I was twelve, she eleven. But even then, we both knew that it was so much more than a kiss. If circumstances had allowed, we would have gone much, much furher that night. And we both knew it.

Ten years later, she was back in my life. She and her brother visited me when I was living at the coast with Trevor. Much to Trev's annoyance, the three of us drove up to a University town to an art's festival. The three of us had an amazing time. Her brother is gay and had been crushing on me for years, but he is so not my type lol.

Anyway, after they left, the girl and I kept in contact a lot. She was in the throws of a divorce, and we became close, even though we were apart by many miles. After a few months, I said we should be just backing off a bit. Though she didn't know I was actually in a relationship with the guy I was living with at the time, I was trying to break things off with Trev. It had developed into weeks of silence broken only by criticism of each other, but we were financially tied to each other, and until those issues were resolved, we were pretty much stuck with each other. I wasn't out to anyone, not even her brother. As far as anyone was concerned, Trev and I were friends, and business partners, and we shared a home.

So when I suggested we take it easy until I move back to Johannesburg, she put the phone down, and I never heard from her.

Trev was part of the reason I never wanted to be gay, well pretty much the whole reason I never wanted to be gay, but thats another story. He was stifling, possesive, and so fn paranoid that someone might ever find out he was fucking me.

So when she cut me off, I was hurt.

So for years, I got tidbits from her brother about where she was, and her life etc. I managed to call her once, and when she told me she was considering adopting a child, I admitted that if things were different, I would have wanted to be the father of her children. We never spoke again until two years ago.

Her brother intimated that she had spent several years self destructing, and in the process, destroying her realtionships with her family and anyone else who had been in her life. (Why the fuck I never heard the warning bells, I really don't know). While he was passing through, he spent the night at my place and he said to me she was divorcing the latest husband and having a hard time, and that she would be in the country in July. Perhaps I could talk to her. I was out to the brother already, and he had already told her.

So July came. Her mom called me one day, and asked me to talk to the girl, because she was in a really bad place. So I do, and invite her and her two little kids to come spend a couple of days with me before heading back abroad, and she does.

Well, we connect. Emotionally. We hold hands, take the kids for walks, reminisce, go to movies, eat out. Then she goes home. A perfect ending to a perfect four days. No problem. Except she falls in love with me.. Obsessively so. Without my knowledge. In a big way.