The Lifechanger

It was a freak event that I couldn’t fathom when it occurred as being much of anything, but somehow, it turned out to be a big deal in more ways than one. 

After an accident that left me with a traumatic brain injury, my therapist thought that I should try to get onto some writing sites and start writing. I reluctantly agreed since my last encounter with writing was at university, and I had a few papers published while working with professors. 

But it had been even longer since I wrote a short story that involved good writing and an even better understanding of story-writing techniques involving the human condition and a universal question that depicted the conflict(s) that keep a story going and invite interest from various parties at once. 

Nonetheless, I did it anyway because I was desperate—and still am—to get better and retrain my brain to do things it used to know but may have forgotten for some time. I put a few stories out there. 

I garnered interest from a few people, primarily critics and a few supporters. Some people get you even when you are struggling, which amazed me since I was the only one struggling. A man faithfully read everything that I wrote. His comments made me laugh out loud, and he struck me as the kind of guy who speaks his mind but doesn’t regret what he says or does very often. 

In other words, he calculated, and despite being evasive about where he came from and what he did for a living, he gravitated towards me for some reason. That gravitation began about four years ago now. Why are we still friends? 

Good question. He gave me the impression that he understood my motive and core belief system when writing short stories and wanted more. And just like that, he asked me to call him because he drove long trips in his car for a living and was often on the road. 

We laughed and sent messages back and forth, but they always concerned the story I or he wrote, and neither of us hinted at or suggested anything else. Until the day he sent me his phone number and asked me to call him. I froze and sat there stunned as I stared at his phone number. Now what? What was it that I had that he wanted? 

I never imagined anyone would want to speak with me about stories since I was far from his speed in story writing. I contemplated what good could come from knowing his number and talking with him. It wasn’t until later that I realized that the connection he sought was healthy in his own right for a limited number of days. After he made that connection, he wasn’t letting it go for anything or anyone else in the world. 

That could have been why, the day he sent me his phone number, I knew it wasn’t a great move for me. However, the phone call went off without a hitch. We survived the awkwardness of two strangers coming together over a common goal—the best story-writing experience of our lives with each other. But I soon learned too much too fast and realized there were more women in this guy’s partnership faring than I could ever fathom. 

He was never disrespectful to his wife; however, he took every opportunity to run her into the ground when he spoke to me about his personal life, which, after many years, you cannot help but come to recognize  

Nothing, however, could have prepared me for the text he sent me that read, “You screwed up; you told me you were married.” I read the words and gasped. My husband entered the room and said, “What’s the matter, honey? Everything okay?” 

I lied and said nothing concerned him and that he should ignore me as I processed information as I got it from the man himself. It wasn’t until much later that I realized this poor man was all smoke and mirrors. 

He didn’t love his wife and was secretly relieved when they split. I am not one to do too well on too many things anymore. I let it go. I called him and never let on what he wrote to me, and the comments regarding his wife were odd and bizarre to tell a writing buddy. 

At one point, he accused me of loving him too much, and I was amazed by the comment. He is someone so full of himself that he thinks I am someone he can toy with and call when he wants, but when he no longer wants to, he casts me aside like rubbish. 

I’d go out on a limb here and say I deserved it somehow, but that had nothing to do with me. What is it with these fucking men who think they’re God’s gift to women? Don’t they know women are not people to mess with at any turn of events? 

So, before I let this secret run wild in his mind, I let everyone who needed to know that I was talking to this man and that he was trying to work on me, massaging my ego and attempting to get something out of nothing.  

Once the story was out and everyone knew our reality, I had no more desire to discuss stories that often. He turned from a man with morals to a man with a focus. He wanted to find as many women as he could to see how much he could defile before he returned to his wife or his wife returned to him. Whatever the case might be. 

There was no room for me in that scenario, so we parted ways for a long while. The insult to injury now is that I help whenever possible, but he leaves me hanging and expects I’ll always be there. I did not sign up for it or want to be involved with it any longer.  

I never thought I’d come to this conclusion, but I did. Some people are beneficial to others, and some are not. This guy was out for himself—the worst kind. It took a lot of work, but I walked away. 

After that realization, I no longer wanted to think about him or not think about him, so I did neither. I just stopped posting. That is what I had to do to remain sane. 

I doubt he’ll notice I’m gone until I’m so gone I cannot find my way back. And then I'll look like an asshole. I’ve looked like that before, but the people who matter know the truth. And that’s what happened the day I met someone; we formed an unlikely friendship, and that friend changed my life forever.  

Why would someone want to change me when I don’t matter to them anyway? To laugh and know he could. Whatever the case, I don’t feel like I’m missing much anymore. I wonder what he’ll say about me.  Probably nothing remotely close to this story. 

Hiding behind God is the worst thing people can do. But hiding behind God and treating others worse than dirt underfoot is the worst damage a person can do to another person. Now I understand why men are from Mars and women are from Venus. 

Or was it that men were dicks who swung with their dicks and, therefore, never let anything touch them? That would mean anything in real life. And that’s the new relationship that changed my life forever. 

Now, I understand that accepting people at face value is foolish. My first mistake was believing someone because I had no reason not to. From there, it didn’t take much to figure out where I stood and where he stood.