How Did I Meet My Ex-Husband Anyway?
He was on a street corner late at night, guitar in hand and singing his heart out. A lonely busker, out past midnight in the hope that clubbers would drop him some money.
There was a plaintive tone in his clear voice, a sadness in his beautiful blue eyes when his eyes eventually met mine.
I stopped to listen to this talented loner for a while, but then I felt guilty; I didn’t have two pennies to rub together and I felt as though I were watching a show for free when I ought to have been paying to watch such a musical young man. With a nod and a smile in his direction, I went on my way.
In my mind he was “My Busker”; I didn’t expect to see him again, but often wondered if I should have stopped to chat. I remembered the long blond hair and pretty, almost feline, face. I thought about the sadness excuding from him in tangible waves and I realised that I wanted to make him better.
That damnable nurturing instinct of mine – born from my natural compassion and my previous job as a care assistant – had kicked in, and it wasn’t about to release me or let me forget this lonely man literally singing for his supper on a street corner.
An actual photograph of Trevor, not taken by me. He wore that hat everywhere
I honestly couldn’t believe it when I saw him again, on my way home after a night out with my best friend. I turned the corner to go home and there he was singing Sweet Home Alabama. Again, I listened for a while, then I approached shyly, dropped some spare change into his guitar case and began to walk on…
…Before turning right round again to say:
“I’m terribly sorry to bother you; but do you know ‘November Rain’ by Guns N’ Roses?”
He didn’t, but that’s how it all began. Within a couple of weeks he’d left his en-suite, shared kitchen bedsit and moved into my tiny little flat with me. I believed that there had to be a happy ending, after practically rescuing a stranger from poverty.
With my help, he found a steady job and began setting up his own gardening business. With my wages I bought him food, clothing and beer, and he didn’t have to share a kitchen with anybody. I even taught him how to cook more than the basic stir-fries he’d been surviving on, so that I didn’t have to come home from my frequent twelve-hour shifts at a local residential home and do it all myself.
He wanted to write a book about his life (which – at the age of twenty-six – was already quite colourful), so I taught him how to use the internet and set him up with a blog account. I took lots of photographs of him, including some modelling shots to use in order to secure gigs at local pubs by turning them in to posters.
He must have felt like a God.
Sadly, what lay behind that pretty face was a spiteful, conniving mind. You all know already that he thanked me with starvation, laziness, emotional abuse and – finally – an attempt at strangling me. He left me in debt and homeless, after I discovered that he wasn’t paying the rent or council tax after his starvation of me had left me too ill to work any more. I couldn’t save my home and found myself on the verge of being on the streets again because of him.
It’s been seven years now since we parted ways, and I sometimes think about what he did to me; I know he still tells people about very intimate parts of my life and claims that I pretend to be epileptic – his last girlfriend happens to be my uncle’s step-daughter and we talk a lot. I know that mine isn’t the only life he’s ruined in order to try to get ahead on somebody else’s back; I know this because he’s left all of his debts with his ex. Again.
You might think that I would be angry and embittered by how he repaid my love and kindness, but I’m really not. It’s because of what he did to me that I now know the security of genuine love. It’s because of what he did to me that I now know what it is to live in a house that can’t be taken away from me (D owns the house and car outright).
He will never know security or trust; he will never own his own home and he will never be debt-free. He will always be running away from something and leaving somebody with a broken heart to clear up his mess. It’s a very sad way to live.
I pity him, and yet it’s because of him that I am where I am today – with a loving husband, a wonderful medical team and in-laws who accept me as family.
I have publically warned women to stay away from him because I feel I should use my experience to protect somebody else, but in reality he did me a favour.
Now you know how the second leg of my Gypsy Road transpired, but I would like you to bear in mind that there are women – and men – out there who suffer far worse things at the hands of their spouse than I did. I was one of the lucky ones.
If you know – or even suspect – that somebody you know is being abused, please keep an eye on them. They will deny it, but the signs are always there if you only look hard enough. Some things simply cannot be hidden, no matter how hard one tries.
While reading your story I felt that same old black cloud of my own emerge, reminding me of poor choices in my life. What is wonderful, is being able to look back and see growth in ourselves, and possibly to be thankful for the experience. I think the hardest thing for me to swallow are people who slander. I used to speak out against those who gossip and waggle the tongue, thinking people should stand up to those who deem it necessary to destroy lives. But sadly, people… even those who you love and trust, do not often act in kindness or understanding. These days I express my distaste for gossip and I dissect myself from ill conversation. Either people have understanding and compassion or they don’t. I think those who engauge in sharing life with your ex, soon find out the plight of their decision, and are forever changed. Sometimes, these tough experiences are the greatest teachers!
I left my warning about him on his Facebook wall, prior to unfriending him. I can forgive what he did to me, but my uncle’s step-daughter is still fighting off debt collectors because of him and she’s so young – she still lived with her Mum until he decied they should rent a house and then he left on the spur of the moment while she was at work.
His ex and I only discovered our connection through my uncle accidentally (also on Facebook). Yesterday she told me she wished she had never met him, and that she’d known the full truth about his life with me (he always told her I was really nice, but he never told her the entire truth – said we just drifted apart, which wasn’t the case).
I agree that it was certainly a learning curve that I’ve benefitted from. I know another woman that he spent some years with after our break-up, and she feels the same.
One good thing that came from knowing this man is three good friendships!
You already know my opinions of this damaged, abusive man and of the lovely man who is now your husband. Thank you for writing your story here.
He is certainly damaged and I hope he asks for the help he needs one day.
At least that entire mess and the years in between led me to Mister Tribble
Wonderful blog there if that is the correct word I know you are speaking the truth and I admire your strngth.
Thank you Willow.
Also, how are you? I have a ton of email notifications on blogs to catch up on and have probably not read some of yours yet xx
I am getting by , thank you.
While what your ex did to you is terrible you’re obviously handling things the best you can, being able to move forward with your life and leave him behind. There are plenty of women who would stay with a jerk like that because it feels safer than being on their own. Hopefully your story will keep someone else from falling into the same trap.
I hope that a girl out there somewhere has read this and realised that there’s always hope for things to get better. I’ve been in other abusive relationships – one of which was extremely physically violent – and I learned that I’m better than that and that things will always get better. You need only realise that you’re strong enough to make it happen. It takes a lot of courage and planning, but it can be done
Thanks for sharing – not all men are bastards!
Indeed they are not! I do hope that this blog post has given some other girl out there hope for her future
I feel your pain. There is nothing so terrifying as being strangled and abused. In my case I ran away. It took me almost a year, but I left him high and dry. Had I stayed I don’t believe I would be here today to talk about it. Weirdly, his mother, who had seen his abuse, called me on the phone and chastised me for leaving. That was over forty-five years ago and I’ve never looked back.
~ Lynda
I’ve been married three times now – my marriage now is stable and built on the right foundations (love, mutual trust, honesty). Ironically, even though my mother used to recieve late-night calls where I asked her to come and collect me because my first husband had hit me again (he tried to beat our son out of me!) she used to tell me that I should have stuck it out for longer. Would she rather have a happy daughter or a depressed shell – or maybe a dead daughter?
There is always a way out, if you can just find the courage to do it. I’m hoping that this blog post will help somebody in trouble.
It is strange, but so many times women in this situation begin to believe that they are what their husbands/boyfriends say they are and just accept their life. Others, having nowhere to turn, feel hopeless and stay. It took me several years, even after I left, to stop believing that I was “stupid” and “worthless.”
Your words will help someone to find courage, though you my never know it.
Your story does help me. I’m not in an abusive relationship of the boyfriend/girlfriend kind, but as you know I’ve experienced abuse in other kinds of close relationship. This isn’t the place to be specific about that, but several things you and your followers say here ring so true.
Being chastised for leaving? Yep.
Beliving that you are all the abuser says you are? Yep.
Attempting to warn others? Yep, but I’ve been on the receiving end of that. I had a series of letters from my then partner’s ex, calling me ‘[name]‘ current victim’. I didn’t take kindly to that! As Violet says in the film Bound, ‘We make our own choices, we pay our own prices.’
I believe strongly in karma and that one day the evil he has thrown at you and others will well and truly kick his butt
I’m sure it will
Inspiring.
I’m so sorry you had to go through this but I get the impression that you’ll give hope and courage to lots of people in similar situations, just by being brave enough to speak out.
Lovely to meet you – and thanks for calling by
Thanks Anne; I wasn’t able to talk about it for years without some bitterness, but I always swore that one day I’d use my experiences for the greater good – there’s no point surviving them if you can’t teach somebody from what you’ve dealt with, and there’s always a silver lining if you look for it hard enough. It may not show itself for years, but it’s always there