Three years.
Before the nutcase mentioned in a previous QOTW (http://www.b3ta.com/questions/stalked/post119130 for the fun and hilarity) there was... well, I'll call her Becca. For that was her name.

It all started out innocently enough. I had just started college. A balmy September it was. My self-esteem and whatnot improving at a phenominal rate since a few years previous. I had started finally talking to people and leaving the house and jogging in the park... y'know, normal things. I was normal. Yes, I liked the label "normal".

I met Becca the following February. I'd occasionally glimpse her while walking home with mutual friends, talking and laughing, and being generally quite loveable and sweet. I developed a bit of a crush. But it wasn't until a trip to the cinema, that I finally got to have any sort of real conversation with her (me, being the sneaky bastard I am, insisted on being the one who bought the tickets; I made sure she was sitting next to me). We kept exchanging glances throughout the movie (Cold Mountain it was, not bad for a first.. er.. "date"), and she found it cute that found a lot of the film funny (if you ever get a chance to watch it, look out for the scene where a dove flies into a window).

Fastfoward to a week later, and she invites me over to a mutual friends house to help out with babysitting and to watch movies. 28 Days Later. Ah, yes, horror - you guessed it, que her jumping at every oppourtunity, usually landing in my lap, or huddling behind my shoulder. I, however, was pretty oblivious to this, simply because I'd never been an object of interest to women up until this point. It wasn't until she said, "I want to kiss you" at the end of the evening that I finally realised that, well... maybe something was going on here. I remember skipping part of the way home that night, giggling the whole time.

So that's how it started. Sweetly and innocently. I was excited. I'd never had a girlfriend before. She loved the same music, played the same instruments, watched the same movies, had the same pets, laughed at the same jokes.. Matoosh had scored.

Or so I thought.

As all things do, the problems creeped in so slowly I couldn't detect what was going on. She wants to come over, but I'm busy revising? One crying fit later and I felt terrible. How could I possibly refuse this poor girl? She has her way. Oh wait, she can't be bothered to go home? The next day too? The following weeks? Ever? Oh that's alright. It's only like I'm doing my exams, it's not as if suddenly having a female presence permanently in residence will do me any harm. And anyhow, if I say no, she cries. A lot. And screams sometimes. She should be the "priority" as the girlfriend, as she reminds me. Often.

Things were getting a tad tense. She would not leave. Ever. Every day she had to see me. At college, following me home in the evening, staying as late as possible, if not the whole night... taking up every waking moment of my day. And I shouldn't even bother trying to do other things while she was there - she could not stand being ignored. But if she was busy doing something? Well, I learnt my place. I didn't want to risk her losing her tempter, again.

And this is not to mention the calls. Oh, yes, the calls. Sometimes I'd put my phone on silent. Sometimes it'd be upstairs where I couldn't hear it. Sometimes I'd be cycling on a main road. But no, this was no excuse. If i didn't pick up instantly, she's call. And call. And then text. And call. I'd usually end up with about 30 or so missed calls, and a dozen texts. "Where are you? Why aren't you picking up? Are you alive? Have you been in an accident? ARE YOU OKAY? MATOOSH? MATOOSH ARE YOU OKAY?" They became increasingly hysterical as time went on. She'd be in fits of crying most voicemails.

And all through this I was thinking, "what the hell have i got myself into? Please, let this end... this is madness... please, just a day to myself, an hour even... just..."

Of course, you say, you should have just dumped her! Kicked her to the curb! Taken out the TRASH. Well, Matoosh argues: I did. I tried. God I tried. But as time went on she wore me down, wore down my resistance, wore down my spirit. I became depressed; i developed anorexia; my running became an obsession as it was the only time i was away from her. This was all during my exams, too. You try splitting up with someone when in that condition.

By the 2nd year of college I was in dire straights. I weighd under 9 stone, at 6 feet tall. I would go to bed at 8pm, completely exhausted - too tired to even speak some nights, though she thought I was being rude by not conversing with her when she came to bed. I'd sleep fitfully, before getting up at 6am to go running, just to get away, just to escape her for those few precious minutes... and, on top of it, i had been roped into a 2 week holiday with her, in celebration of finishing our exams.

Then came crunch time: the unknown illness. One morning my run feels a bit weird; my feet are a tad tingly... but i ignore it. Next day my muscles are pretty damn tight, tingling getting worse, I'm feeling weak... to cut it short: a week later I was lying in a hospital bed, virtually paralysed, hooked up to various tubes, being told there was a chance my lungs would stop working and I'd have to be put on a ventilator. There's a chance I'll never walk again. There's even a slim chance I'll die. As well as the mental anguish, I was in constant physical pain - it felt like a metal rake being dragged down my exposed spine and nerves again, and again, and again... then Becca visits. Her first words? "But what about our holiday?"

Did I dump her? Did I say, then and there, it was over? To hell did I.

I come out of hospital 10 days later, and begin 2 months of physical rehabilitation. Becca visits me at home every day. I'm too weak to even go for my run, my one escape from her. And, inevitibly. I become completely dependent on her. I can't walk up a flight of stairs? She helps me. I can't cut up my own sandwich? She cuts it up. I can't put my socks on? Well, you get the idea...

About 6 months after leaving hospital, I've effectively "recovered" (as in, I could walk down the street unaided). By this point I'd been with her 2 years. My life was in turmoil. My uni plans were cancelled due to my illness - even though I did attempt the first term, it was just too much - so I come home and have to get a full time job. This was a saving grace: time away from Becca... and money! I have my own money! I can afford to buy my own things without having to live off the parents!.. but.. can you see where this is going? She would hint, quite heavily, that I buy her certain things. Books (by the end of it in the hundreds), food, cinema trips, drinks at the pub, meals out, meals in, tickets to see Lion King... she was a student, living away from home, it would be cruel not to treat her to thnigs - at least, that's what she told me. By this point bulimia has kicked in and my depression has me sometimes confined to bed. She's completely aware of this, completely aware that I now can no longer say no. She takes advantage of it. She saps me for every penny. Even when I eventually have to quit my job due to my low moods, living on income support, she keeps leeching, keeps spending every waking moment with me, taking me shopping...

3 years with her now. I start to attend therapy. My moods improve, my food stabilises, I start saying no. She, because of this, starts becoming angry, lashing out at me, occasionally employing physical violence against me. Bruises are left, emotional as well as physical, but I just about hold strong. I say no. I keep saying no. Something deep down in there wants to escape, and it knows the only way is: no. No no, fucking no.

She eventually starts seeing more of her ex-boyfriend, the one before me. Things start happening between them. I'm overjoyed, but at the same time it destroys me - I was still wholly dependent on this woman, despite the pain she had inflicted. One final argument over the phone and she hangs up, pushing me to the edge. I end up in hospital again (guess why for extra points), not sure what's going to happen to me. She turns up, "I don't want to be with you any more, I can't see you again." and leaves. Leaves me on a hospital bed, dizzy, blood pressure crashing as the doctor's try and decide what to do with my test results. She abandons me.

At the time, sheer horror. I was devastated. Now? Greatest fucking day of my life.

I've moved on now (mostly). My various problems are still present, but massively reduced. Still not back at uni, but working on it. I've had girlfriends since, the one directly after was a complete disaster, but the last one... she reaffirmed my faith in people. We broke up a couple of months ago (we're still great friends) - the wounds inflicted by Becca left it difficult for me to commit to anything serious... I become easily stressed if I feel my privacy - so important to me now - being intruded on by another person. Even slightly. I can't let any one in, no one is allowed that close. Not yet.

But y'know what the worst bit was? The absolutely most terrible part of the whole experience with the evil she-devil? Not once, not ONCE, did we have sex. All that for three bloody years, and I don't get any. NOT. ONCE.

Bloody catholics.
( Matoosh would rather like a biscuit, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 0:01, 28 replies)

Jesus christ
you poor sod. Have a hug
( fuck shit up the best you never had, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 0:14, closed)

Holy shit...
If she did all this to me and wouldn't let me get in her (vagina) she would have been dead by the end of year one.

"Honestly Officer, she fell down the stairs and landed on the rake and I have no idea how she set herself alight."

Have a hug nobody should have to go through that.
(chrisdood Why yes, I am the shizzle, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 0:35, closed)

*hug*
Some women don't deserve happiness, and she's one of them. Good on you for escaping her clutches in the end!
( Maladicta, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 0:56, closed)

Dear God
Have a sympathy click.

And another 'cos it was well written


Cheer
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 3:32, closed)

Oh my poor boy
All that and not even getting sex! Well done for getting rid of the moo.
(grazer is sick of looking at houses, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 6:00, closed)

Your girlfriend reminds me of my first girlfriend.
I was thinking of writing up a similar epilogue to yours. I must admit I wasnt quite so physically and mentally hurt by my first girlfriend. But she did manage to put a rift through my family which has now thankfully healed. Took 5 years to get rid of her.

So yeah have a click because I understand where you are coming from. When you love someone its just not that easy to leave despite what they do. No doubt everyone you knew was telling you to get rid but for some reason you just couldnt do it.
(Miggyman, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 8:05, closed)

one day...
... I will post an amusing life story. Promise. But who would have thought internet hugs would be so therapeutic? :O)

Thanks be to you all.
( Matoosh would rather like a biscuit, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 8:06, closed)

Christ on a stick
*clicks*

Glad you've moved on too :)
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 8:10, closed)

I think that
*clickyhugs*

are in order.

In a blokey sort of way, of course!
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 8:28, closed)

"huddling behind my soldier"
Apologies for length? ;)
(clumsyeloquence is a girl, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 8:50, closed)

I don't
want to like this story, but I'm glad you got through it. Have a clicky for your perseverance and finally managing to take control. Many kudos for sticking it out.
(LLamaBoy skived off work on, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 8:58, closed)

Yarh!
clumsyeloquence: and I was so close to getting away without a length joke! ;)
( Matoosh would rather like a biscuit, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 9:10, closed)

Is your 'soldier'
a euphanism?

Seriosuly though, well done for coming through that (and keeping a healthy sense of humour too).

Sometimes a it can get like that with a gorl and it;s ace thatyou made it through.

Good luck for the future and uni!
(Fuckarma was masturbating into your handbag, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 9:32, closed)

I'm speechless...
I think I have post traumatic stress disorder by proxy reading that.

I have to have a cup of tea to calm down a bit(honestly)
( Colonel Dracula Two manky hookers and a racist dwarf, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 9:48, closed)

*click*
No sex? For three years?
Fair play Sir, my ex was a twat and laid into me fairly regularly and was entirely selfish and was the living embodiment of pure Freudian ego but at least I got some on occasion.
( Boss Keloid Got your mother's maiden name tattooed on my arm, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 10:44, closed)

Well done
for getting through that, you may have gone through hell but at least you'll be stronger for it. I understand a tiny bit - I dumped my ex of 3 years while suffering from an episode of mild depression and that was hard enough, so I can't imagine what it was like for you.

Oh, and have an internet hug!
(Petite chien is going to do science to it, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 10:47, closed)

oh my lord
*clicks, hugs, and a massive double-backhand to your ex*
(jennymnemonic, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 11:03, closed)

Bloody hell...
er, and again, bloody hell...

Dear god, there are some incredibly fucked up people in this world - and the ones that don't realise they're fucked up are by far and away the scariest...

*click*
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Mon 9 Jun 2008, 11:27, closed)

((hug))
click, another ((hug))
(chameleon61, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 11:50, closed)

* clickyhugs *
That last bit was a real kicker. Glad to see you're well on your way to being healed.

PS. What Davros' Granddad said.
( mistaspakkaman and the inedible shifting caterpillars, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 12:18, closed)

*manhugs*
And *click* too.
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 12:32, closed)

"and the ones that don't realise they're fucked up are by far and away the scariest..."

That was one of the worst things - she could very easily make me feel like _I_ was the one being selfish, unkind, or unthinking. It wasn't until many months after the end, and with a lot of help of close friends who had witnessed her behaviour themselves, that I started to realise that... y'know... she was nucking futs.
( Matoosh would rather like a biscuit, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 12:32, closed)

Phew!!!
All I can say is if things that don't kill you make you stronger you must be a strong bastard by now!

Good on you for pulling through and seeing where the real problems lay - knowing it wasn't something you did to yourself etc.

Hope the future is way brighter for you, I think you know what to avoid now!
(Lurkaloid awarded wanking black belt on, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 13:19, closed)

Bloody hell

*hugs*

actually, make it a clickyhug. For not killing the evil cow.
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Mon 9 Jun 2008, 13:51, closed)

*hairy hugs*
over the interweb

xxx
( Tourette's ( . )( . ) has a monkey hair in her fried egg, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 17:46, closed)

*hugs*
"I like this" once again seems inappropriate... glad to hear you're better and getting better though, have some more *hugs* from me!
(ZoFreX is cleaner than smoked trout, Mon 9 Jun 2008, 21:03, closed)

Zomg! Teh words!!

( idonthaveafunnynickname Drink-Aware? Sure. I'm aware I want another drink., Mon 9 Jun 2008, 21:50, closed)