Part Two....

So... where was I in this tale of murder, mayhem and vast intrigue?

Oh yes... the murder and mayhem.

Anyway... I don't remember how I came to, how I got home... everything else is really just a blur to me.

After the three semesters at Cornish, I chose to leave. I was more depressed than ever before. I'd gained about 80 lbs or so, I wasn't eating, I'd stolen money from a bank. == The bank was nice enough to call it Overdrawn. *rolls her eyes*... since I"d gotten the money from my own account... sort of But that's for another time == I"d wanted to murder my roommate with my own hands... and teeth and knees and nails and all the rest. Damn I wanted her dead.

But, I had a final month there. I was going to be in the apartment until the first of February, and I was packing and shit... supposedly. Actually, I was being mroe and more depressed, spending more and mroe of my time rocking back and forth on my couch. I tell ya, folks... I was as close to basket-ville as you can get without wearing that nice, white, tailored coat.

I met a guy, via a phone-chat line. This was before I knew anything about computers and the internet. Hell, it was before the internet was really something anyone knew about. It was in January of 1990. Anyway... he had an awesome phone voice. He really did. Ya know, he's the male version of the Aerosmith video for Sweet Emotion. *laughs* Where that hot, sexy, blonde female is ACTUALLY an old, fat housewife with babies cryin in the background.

But, I was young, and extremely stupid. Extremely stupid. So I wanted to meet him. He'd told me he was 6'3'... or maybe it was 6'2"... that's irrelivant. At the time I was about 6'0" barefoot, and I chose to wear a pair of sweet, black suede boots. So I was standing almost 6'2". I would have figured he'd be AT LEAST my height, if not just a little taller. When I actually met up with him, I was shocked. He was not ANYTHING like he described. *rolls her eyes* I don't remember who he actually compared himself to, I just don't remember the name. But it would be like trying to compare Micky Rourke in Johnny Handsome (before the surgery) to Mel Gibson from Ransom. There just was NO comparison.

But did I take that as a sign? NO!

And, he was NOT 6'2" Or anywhere near it. He was at LEAST 4 inchest shorter than me. Did I take THAT as sign?

NO!!

To speed this along, let me do a little summarizing.

Suffice it to say, he told me that he was a music producer, or rather, that he had a five year, recording contract in a safe deposit box in Cali, and that he'd give it to me. BUT, I had to promise to leave on the spot for a tour.

He told me he had two horses, one of which was an Arabian Stallion. Black. (amazing that he told me this after hearing that I really wanted a black Arabian stallion)

He told me that he loved me.

He told me that he had a huge, diamond ring, and that he was going to give it to me. THat it was mine as soon as he got the ring sized.

And ya know what? He told me he had a 63 Vette split window.

but, you know what happened? That poor stallion ran into the barb wire fence and tore himself up so bad that this guy had to "put him down"

The huge diamond ring got stollen, just before he could give it to me.

Someone slammed into his Vette, just after he'd gotten out the way (or maybe not) and was totalled, on his way down to see me.

And the Recording contract?

I had to leave immediately and I would not be able to discuss the matter with my folks, nor would I have the time to call them or talk to them for a good long time.

*sighs*

Damn, I was so fucking stupid. I believed him. I actually fucking believed him.

Every fucking damned time.

But... I didn't tell him I loved him.

Because I knew I didn't. And I knew.... somewhere deep inside, that he didn't really love me either. He was just trying to get me to give it up.

When I didn't give it up, he dumped me. We had a relationship for about a total of three weeks. If that. But he successfully strung me along. Told me promise after promise. And each time, some major catastrophy happened that ruined his plans to come see me. something happened that either damaged him, or made it impossible for him to follow through with his promise.

Hell... Did you realize he actually had to go out there and put his prized, favorite, and promised-to-me Arabian Stallion down? That was so very hard for him. *rolls her eyes* Motherfucker.

Damn. I was so fucking gullible at 19.

Anyway.... so, I went home with Mom and Dad. They lived in a tiny, and I do mean TINY two bedroom home. And Dad was just nasty. He was so extremely nasty. He wasn't working at the time... Maybe he was, but I just don't remember. But, he was snide and bitchy to me. I didn't have a car, so I was stuck at home. Mom was working her ass off so she was gone all the time. I got more and more and more depressed.

There was one guy from Cornish that I kept in touch with, who was so very important to me. He was my best friend. I could tell him anything, and we would talk for hours upon hours at a time. It was like we shared the same brain in many, many ways.

Anyway, we talked on the phone while I was in Puyallup with my folks. We would talk once in a while. Once in a great while, actually. Bout once every two months or so, til August when we had a long, long phone comversation. And the conversation turned sexual. After we hung up, I just went on living my life. No big deal. Same old same old.

I wrote to him, long letter. And I mailed it off to him in mid August. In September, after I started at Pacific Lutheran U., about a week before my 20th birthday, he sent me a letter. I was already extremely depressed. I didn't leave my room unless I had to and even then it was rare. His letter was four lines.

Alright... read on with the next installment...