Friday, November 11, 2011

The Black Hole

I was recently contacted by an ex-boyfriend. Big deal, right? Except that the gall involved for him to do so must be...pathological. Do we have a name for pathological gall? We should.

Here's some background. I met this guy (we'll call him Greasy Bear, or GB) on a plane. He initiated contact and was charming as sin. A week later he asked me on a date. We met after work at a fun bar. He had paid an attendant to receive me and park my car for me. We had an uproariously good time. We continued to have uproarious fun for several months. We took a trip together. One day I said laughingly, "we need to hang out at your place sometime - we're always here!" His quick reaction was "it's not going to happen."

Wait. What? I began my cross examination.

"Are you married?"
"Live with a woman?"
"Have a girlfriend?"
"Any children?"

"So, to be clear, you're not married, don't live with or date anyone else, and you don't have any kids, right?"


I had a background check performed. He was married and his wife of 8 years had delivered a child three weeks before we met in the airport. I confronted him again, asked him if he was married.

"No!" (oh, boy! this time with anger!)

"Then who is Susie Q?"

Cue crickets.

"Do you have children?"

"There's a male."

"Get out and never come back."

Fast forward several months when he came to remove his belongings from my home (I really should have just trashed them, but I used to be nice). I asked him to wait on the stoop while I got his things. I ascended the steps to the living area where his bag was prepared and as I reached the top I heard him bounding up the steps behind me. Panicked, I ran across the room and grabbed my telephone.

"Get out!"


"You have ten seconds to leave or I am calling the police."

Greasy Bear leaned against the stairway banister, crossed his arms across his chest and one ankle over the other, smirking at me.

"You're halfway there." Five seconds pass. "And you're done." I dialed 911.
Out he ran! Calling, "You could cause me to lose my kid you bitch!"

Eighteen months later he called. I told him never to contact me again. He continued to call. And to text me. A dear and very powerful friend took the third call attempt and heard him out for half an hour. She told him never to call me, and that he was welcome to call her if he had any questions about my well-being (his purported reason for calling).

He called me 2 weeks later. Ignored. Again two weeks later. I handed the phone to a male who advised him never to call me (this time his reason was that he was seeking "legal advice"). 

Two nights ago he messaged me on Facebook. I asked my group of recovering Nice Gals what to do. Should I continue to ignore or "black hole" as they say? Or write something so completely clear that finally he would "get it." Here's what I proposed to write:

"Greasy Bear. How about we NOT pretend that we chat like friends, hmm? I had to call the police to remove you from my home. What part of this conduct causes you to believe that I want to be in touch? You thoroughly disgust me. For the final time: Leave. Me. Alone. Forever."

A very wise friend advised me to continue to blackhole, for this reason:

"You do the leaving alone forever, because he is probably incapable of it, right??"

Oh. Yeah. That again.

I will continue to do the work for him, since he is incapable of doing so himself.

**And yes, he is "blocked."

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