Calculated Seduction

Today I watched one of Donna Anderson’s videos on her blog lovefraud.com.  She was talking about how you should be careful if the person you just start dating appears to be your soulmate very early on.  Donna said that sociopaths conduct “calculated seduction” where they pay close attention to what you want, mirror your desires, and basically turn themselves into YOUR version of “prince charming”.  In a nut shell, this is exactly what Luc did.

I have been thinking a lot over the past year about what in the hell attracted me to Luc in the first place.  These thoughts smack me right in the face particularly when I am staring at his balding, lying, troll like ass on the stand in court.  How could I have fallen for someone who is really such a lying sack of shit?

Donna’s term “calculated seduction” made a lot of sense to me.  I was the perfect target for Luc.  Here are some of the things that I think contributed to this shit storm:

1)  Online dating:  I used to think there was nothing wrong with meeting a person in this manner; however, I am now completely against it.  Weird people hide behind their computers.  While there are plenty of normal people who online date, there are an unhealthy number of weirdos who troll for women on the internet.  These people study their targets well before even contacting them.  Once you meet them in person, you have already had that great phone conversation where he seemed to share your interests, enjoy your humor, etc.

2)  I was rebounding horribly:  When I met Luc I was heartbroken.  I was approaching 30 and wondering if I would ever meet my soulmate or even if I had a soulmate at all.  Luc read me like a book from day one.  I was honest about wanting to be in a serious relationship that led to one day having a family.  Luc thought this was great because he was looking for someone to raise his son (notice how I didn’t say help HIM raise his son).

3)  His son was bait:  I love kids.  Period.  Luc came to me with this sob story about how he was raising his son on his own and how the child’s mother had died in an accident.  (Telling me she had been murdered and he was the prime suspect would have been a bit of a buzz kill I imagine.)

4)  I have “dirty dog syndrome”:  This term I created, so don’t be concerned if you have never heard of it before.  If I am honest with myself, Luc looked like a scrappy mess from the day I met him.  His hair was too long, he walked with a limp, he wore his clothes too big…I could go on forever.  All this being said, however, there was a part of me that saw some glimmer of potential and passion.  I was that woman who sees the dirty dog on the street and takes it into my house to give it a bath and feed it (hoping that once its clean it will be cute).  Well, that dirty dog bit me.

5)  Deception was his full time job:  Finally, probably the most important piece of all this is how much time he spent working on seducing me and fooling me into believing he was the person I wanted (my soulmate if you will).  Every morning, I got up to go to work at 5:30am. I wouldn’t get home until the evening.  The entire time I was at work, Luc would think of ways to convince me he was successful, honest, loving, and someone completely different than who he really was.  The man actually got out of bed on a regular basis, put on a suit, and talk about the business meetings he was to attend that day.  Unless you are a paranoid mess, you probably aren’t going to follow your fiance to make sure he is actually going to work.  Turns out, after I left for work, he would get back into sweats and watch television and play video games all day.  He would also spend time thinking of elaborate lies to tell me about his work filled day.  I had a life – there was no way I could compete with that level of deception.

My father always says to me, “if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and acts like a duck – it’s a damn duck!”  Unfortunately, in addition to being a good girl, I have always been stubborn as hell.  Even after all of the above elements of the shit storm began to fade and his story started to fall apart, I really wanted to believe he wasn’t a duck.  The man could have very well been quacking in my face and there was a point when I would have said, “well, you know…he just isn’t feeling well.  He normally doesn’t sound like a duck.”

I beat myself up about not leaving him sooner on a daily basis.  Every time I have to write my sons full legal name down on a document and I see Luc’s last name, I want to scream and slap myself.  Every time I see the pain and stress that this situation continues to put on my family, I want to kick myself for being so damn blind.  I know that Luc is not worth my forgiveness.  There is no point in forgiving someone who will never believe that what he did was wrong.  What I pray for, however, is that I will be able to forgive myself.

 

 

 

 

Crazy Sign Lady

A few days ago, I was sitting at work trying hard not to fall asleep at my computer when a message from my friend popped up on my screen.  She said, “Dude, you will never believe what is happening out at the front gate.”  As this was likely to be the most exciting part of my day, I prepared myself for a good story.  My friend told me that a woman, who appeared to have had a very rough morning, was standing outside the gate of my company holding a sign saying, “my husband ___ is cheating on me with ____.”  She stood out there all morning for two days in a row.  Both her husband AND his mistress worked in my building.

There were many things about this story that were disturbing to me and here are a few:

1)  About ten minutes after the woman started her “campaign” to out her husband and his mistress, word had spread about a “crazy wife”.  Having been through some pretty extreme trauma myself, I automatically understood how a person could be driven to do a seemingly nutty thing.  Instead of calling her crazy, I actually wanted to get her some breakfast at the cafeteria and sit by her side while she outed the ass hole.

2)  I counted at least 5 male coworkers who called home as soon as they heard about the sign lady to make sure it was not their wives.  Another 10-15 were asking around if anyone knew the names of the people listed on the sign.  I think its self explanatory why this would be disturbing.

3)  I heard some of the backstory a little later that day and it only made me feel more angry.  Apparently, this man (the cheater) told his young coworker (likely at least 10-15 years his junior and a single mother) that he was divorcing his “crazy wife”.  While nearly everyone in my office laughed about how her stunt certainly played into his portrayal of her, I couldn’t understand why nobody could see that this was the oldest line in the book. (my wife is crazy and I am divorcing her)  News flash – why didn’t he wait until he was divorced before he had sex with this chick from work!

On of my friends is always joking and saying that “crazy people make sane people crazy.” Well, my guess is that “crazy sign lady” was once a perfectly sane woman who was in love with a man.  I am also going to guess that out of all three people involved in this “triangle” of sorts, she was the last one to find out about the affair.  She may have believed her husband was just as faithful as her.  She may have devoted her whole life to raising his children while he could go forth and have a successful career, only to find him one afternoon in her bed with his young coworker.

I don’t know if this man is a psychopath like my ex or whether or not this lady is actually crazy.  I do know, however, that people do really terrible things to each other.  Folks shouldn’t judge someone else so harshly unless they have walked in their shoes.  I feel terrible for the crazy sign lady.  We all went back to our computers and talked about her over lunch, but she actually has to live this tragedy.

 

 

The Death of Justice

When I was a child, my family called me “the party police”.  I was that kid who would march around the house telling all the guests at the party the rules of the house.  If someone would break a rule, little 6 year old cappuccino queen would have a meltdown.  Growing up, I always felt comfort knowing that I lived in a country with strong morals which were upheld by a fair justice system.  I didn’t drink underage, I didn’t ever smoke, and I never even thought about doing drugs.  I was even the kind of kid who would return the candy bar if I walked out of the store without paying for it – by accident.  I was a good girl and I was proud of it.

Luc came into my life and completely destroyed my belief in law and order.  One of the most painful lessons that I had to learn throughout my court battle with Luc was that psychopaths don’t play by normal rules.  This is true in their lives and it is certainly the case in the courtroom.  The most disturbing part about this was that Luc would get away with many of his lies because it would come down to my word against his.  He knew how to play the game and what he could get away with.  It was hard for me, at first, to anticipate his next move and prepare myself for the chaos.  Laws are not always enforced and true criminals are experts at figuring out which laws they can break and which are so hard to prove that no prosecutor will bother taking the case.

About six months after leaving Luc, I realized that I needed to find a professional who could explain to me what was happening.  I couldn’t understand how someone like this was walking free and how I ended up with THIS man as the father of my son.  Why didn’t I see how incredibly insane he is?  How did his behavior continue to escape our justice system?  I also realized that it was important to keep my head on straight because I was in for a long fight.

After a couple of sessions, my therapist diagnosed me with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).  As soon as he said it, I laughed and said, “Oh come on doctor – PTSD is like something that men/women have when they come back from war.”  The doctor then explained that PTSD is an anxiety disorder that develops after exposure to any event that results in psychological trauma.  He also explained that the court system was essentially re-traumatizing me and that people like Luc tended to feed off of the drama of the court room and the terror they could cause by litigating.

After doing some research on PTSD, I am fully willing to own the label.  I would argue that anyone with normal emotions who gets tangled up with a psychopath is bound to end up with a healthy dose of PTSD.  I wish I could tell you that I have recovered.  Well, I haven’t.  I still have nightmares and sometimes I still get panicked about what Luc has done or what he is capable of doing next.

Something that has helped, however, is the knowledge I have gained in the past year.  I have learned some great ways to protect myself against Luc.  I hope to be able to arm my readers with a little bit of the knowledge I have learned (mostly the hard way).  Here are some of the things I have learned so far throughout my custody battle with Luc.

 

1)  Keep your cool:  Luc always tried to make me look like the crazy one.  He would try hard to pretend he was the victim to get sympathy from anyone who was stupid enough to give it to him. (especially his lawyer whom he convinced to work pro bono)   Luc would also say things with the sole intent to get a rise out of you.  Beware – the judge is always watching you.  I had to actively practice breathing while Luc was on the stand because I knew that I was being watched the entire time.  I remember actually drawing blood from pinching myself so hard after Luc sat on the stand and lied to the judge saying I had an STD.  One of the most important things a judge looks for is the mature parent.  Don’t let him make you lose your cool.

2)  Document everything:  Luc lied about everything.  In the moment, his lie would sometimes appear to be plausible but his common problem was that he couldn’t keep track of all of his lies.  Insist on getting copies of court testimony because a person like this will swear to something under oath and then completely pretend as if he never said it.  Having proof will help you down the road.  Don’t just document court records – document any communication you have with him (verbal and written).  One of the most annoying things about family law is that there is a lot of he said/she said.  Having proof helps to keep some of the lies out of the court record.

3)  Be your own advocate:  I am not suggesting not getting a lawyer.  GET A LAWYER.  Understand, however, that your lawyer doesn’t know your ex.  Family lawyers are used to seeing scored men and women come into their offices complaining about how crazy their ex is.  Don’t get frustrated when you have to explain to them over and over again that you are not dealing with a normal rational player.  It took me nearly a year (and after firing two lawyers) to finally get my lawyers to understand.  Remember, you are just a client to them.  This is YOUR life and YOUR child so it makes sense for you to fight with the most passion.  I had to practice patience with my lawyers because eventually they were able to see what I was talking about when they witnessed Luc’s pathology for themselves.

4)  It’s a marathon:  There are many small battles in a custody trial.  You might not win all of them (I certainly didn’t feel like I did), but you need to pace yourself.  One of the hardest things to deal with was the court dates constantly being continued.  It took exactly a full year after I filed for custody to get a final order in place.  (Note:  Our custody trial was four months ago.)

Justice as I knew it is dead.  The small piece of little girl cappuccino queen I have left inside of me is storming around and throwing a huge fit.  She is screaming and crying and stomping her feet.  Grown up cappuccino queen, however, is constantly thinking of ways to protect her son while trying to quiet the little girl inside who is throwing a royal tantrum over the death of justice.  

 

Clarity Enhanced

A few months before my son was born, Luc made a huge show of proposing to me.  In true sleezy Luc fashion, he also wouldn’t stop talking about how he spent months looking for the highest quality ring he could find.  He even showed me some receipt (likely one he made on his computer) so that I would believe that he paid 7k for the ring. (Men take note:  Never tell a woman how much you paid for her engagement ring.  It’s trashy and in poor taste.)  Everywhere we went, he would grab my hand and show off that stupid ring as if it was some show of his status.  This always embarrassed me because I knew that most people didn’t give a rats behind about my ring and this show just made him look weird.

Many people say that when the woman breaks off the engagement she should give the ring back.  I didn’t give it back.  I made the decision that when he chose to rape my sister and steal all of my belongings (he refused to let me back into the house to get my things)- I was keeping that stupid ring.  Besides, I wasn’t going to ever put myself at risk of being killed by returning it to him.  Was I wrong in this?

Anyway, this stupid ring has been haunting me since I left him a year ago.  I always knew I needed to sell it, but I knew nothing about diamond rings and I was a little worried that he might have stolen it.  The longer I hung onto it, though, I felt like it was a curse.

Yesterday, I received a mob style email from my legal team.  They told me that I owed them 7k and that since I was unable to pay them, I clearly could no longer afford to litigate Luc.  (Note:  Luc’s testified that he had only paid her about 600 dollars, yet she is still working for him.)  I have paid my lawyers by completely draining my retirement, savings, and every paycheck amounting in total to over 150k.  After all that, they have dumped me and I am headed toward financial ruin.  So with this dilemma looming over me, me and baby boy set out on a mission this morning to sell the damn ring.  I knew I wouldn’t get much for it, but pawning a ring I don’t want seemed like a better option than begging folks for money. (Begging was what my lawyers suggested I do)

After stopping for breakfast at Dunkin Donuts (baby boy’s favorite breakfast spot), we went into a small jewelers.  I had already done enough research to know that Luc had lied about the value.  (No shocker here – I know)  When the man behind the counter looked at it, he said, “well, its clarity enhanced and there is a huge crack in it – I will give you 600 bucks.”  At first, I thought he might be taking me for a ride and conning me, but he allowed me to look at the diamond under a microscope and there it was – cracked and crappy.

At this point, I was holding baby boy who was having a usual baby conversation with me.  When the salesman explained to me that clarity enhanced basically meant that someone altered the diamond to make it appear like something it was not, I broke out into laughter.  The man looked at me like I was nuts, but I couldn’t stop laughing.  Baby boy started laughing too.  I then explained to the man that this description of the ring was not a surprise and that, in fact, it made total sense.  I took the 600 bucks for the ring because, frankly, I didn’t want the piece of crap anymore.

That ring was a very telling symbol of our relationship.  It looked good on the outside, but in reality it was just a big piece of crap.  Luc was pretending to be someone he wasn’t from the moment he met me.  Sometimes I wonder if Luc even knows WHO he is at all. He is so busy lying that he might not even have any sense of self at all.

Today was a big step for me.  I felt like I had taken back a piece of my life.  I let go of something that had been weighing me down.  I had been angry about that ring.  It wasn’t just the ring, but it was the fact that I will never be proposed to for the first time again.  He took that from me.  The ring is yet another symbol of his lies and his poor intentions.

I walked out of that store with the real diamond – my baby boy.  We left the fake diamond behind.  We got back into the car and talked all the way home.  I told baby boy about how mama is determined to get back on her feet and give him the life he deserves.  I told him about how much I love him.  I told him about how important it is for me to teach him how to be a real man someday.

 

 

 

 

Dirty Chai

My new favorite drink at Starbucks is a Grande Soy Dirty Chai Latte. (I have my caffeine addicted sister to thank for getting me addicted to this particular drink)  A Dirty Chai Tea is just like a regular Chai, but it has a shot of expresso.

(Note:  Today I am having a “coffee bean” kind of day.  The water is still boiling in my life, but my attempts to change my life for the better are making me a little less “egg” and a little more “coffee bean”.)

Anyone who is as addicted to Starbucks as I am knows that you can order the same drink everyday and depending on who makes it – it will taste a little bit different.  With a Dirty Chai, there is even more of a risk of your drink tasting different everyday because there are more moving parts to mess up.  The barista might add too much expresso making it taste too bitter or too much Chai making it taste too sweet.  Sometimes, however, all the parts come together just right.

You are probably wondering what in hell my morning coffee choice has to do with life, but here it is:

Lately I have been feeling like I am stuck in a nightmare.  On a regular basis, Luc tries to think of ways to terrorize me and get a rise out of me.  I have found myself thinking on a regular basis about what shoe will drop next.  What is he going to do to try and make my life miserable today (or mess up my Chai)?

Thinking about the Chai, however, makes me realize that I have more control over my happiness than I do over my morning Chai (unless I stop being lazy and just start making it at home myself).  Luc is going to throw as much crap at me as he can find in the world.  His full time job is to hurl crap.  Unlike the morning Chai, I can choose to wake up everyday and make my own cup of happiness despite him.

This has been a terrible week.  We are in the midst of finalizing a custody order.  No matter what it says, I know that Luc will manipulate the order and run completely amuck.  I know he doesn’t care about my son because I know he is not capable of caring about anyone but himself.  This is terrifying, but my son needs me to be his rock.

Though the idea of letting him take off with my son by himself once a week is terrifying, I also know that I need to get to the point where I stop worrying about him and his attacks and start worrying about balancing out my own happiness.  I am going to start making my own damn Chai.

 

 

The Shape Shifter

One of the first things that I should have noticed that was off about Luc was his ability to shift reality to fit his own needs.  Luc will lie to your face, get caught in the lie, and still try to convince you that he did not lie to you and that, in fact, it was a misunderstanding on your part.  During my recent court proceedings with Luc, I have been driven to the point of madness watching him testify under oath to such ridiculous lies (and continue to do so even after they have been proven to be lies).  In case any of you out there are in need of some comic relief, here are just a few that I remember from the past year:

1)  Luc “forgets” when he was born:

Lawyer during cross examination:  ”Luc – how come you initially told the court you were born in 1977, but the social security administration reports you as having been born in 1972?”

Luc: “See…what happened was…I was really born in 1972 but state of Virginia gave me a birth certificate with the wrong year and so I was born in ’77..I sort of have two different birth certificates…and one of them I used to get my license….” (Luc was born in the state of New York so at this point most of the court should be wondering how Luc obtained a birth certificate from a state he wasn’t born in)

2)  Luc invents attacks against him

A week after we were in court for custody (and a few days before we had to go back), Luc claimed he had been attacked by one of my relatives after the court hearing.  He didn’t file any sort of police report that day, but he was so insistent that this “attack” took place right outside the courthouse that his lawyer went as far as to subpoena the surveillance tapes from that day.

Of course after reviewing the tapes, it was clear that Luc had invented this story as the tape showed Luc calming walking down the street and getting into his car without a sole around him or approaching him.  In the face of this lie, the story shifted and changed.  Even with evidence (surveillance tapes) that he had completely fabricated the event, he continued to tell everyone who would listen to him that the judge viewed this “attack” in chambers and that the surveillance tapes proved that he had been attacked.

When the judge asked Luc what had occurred (while he was on the stand), the story changed from “I was attacked” to “some older woman who’s name I do not know, but whom I know must have been related to Hera…yelled from across the street something that led me to believe my life was being threatened.”  (Note:  Luc did not say this as eloquently as I have depicted it, however, this was the jist when translated into commonly spoken American English.)

3)  Delusions of grandor

When I met Luc, he told me he was signed to a major record label.  He sat in his room and, I guess, pretended to make music.  Even after my lawyers proved that he had never made a dime from singing (and that he wasn’t  signed by any record label), he told the court that he was hoping to get his career started and that he makes money writing music in his bedroom.  There is no need to go into this lie further.  As pathetic as this sounds, I feel even more pathetic for actually believing it at one point.

4)  Sexual Attraction (that is all in his head)

Luc had a habit of always telling me how lucky I was to be with someone as attractive as him.  When we would go out to dinner, he would routinely tell me that women would approach him while I was in the bathroom.  I am still not sure if he told me these stories because he was afraid I would one day wake up and realize he was a moron or if he actually was delusional enough to think these things happened to him.  I always wondered why I never SAW any of these advances.  Now I realize its because they never actually happened (outside of Luc’s head of course).

I am guessing that when asked about what happened between me and him, he will to this day claim that he left me and that I am constantly trying to win him back.  I say this because this is what he claimed happened with the woman before him.  It wasn’t until I left and spoke to her myself that she was as desperate as I was to get the hell away from him.  I am not sure why he continues to perpetuate the lie that every woman who has dated him feels as if she cannot live without him.  As hard as we are all trying to wake up from this nightmare, that story is just not plausible.

 

Despite the fact that I have had a horrible day (I actually stormed out of my lawyers office after he basically told me I needed to “get a grip” in a patronizing tone), I can still step back at the end of the day and just laugh at all the stupid shit Luc has said over the last year.

He is a shape shifter and a man without a soul.  He shifts into whatever works to hold up whatever lie he has told.  Fighting him in court is like playing an impossible game of dodgeball.  Imagine being that kid in 6th grade who is the last kid standing on her dodgeball team. (except imagine this kid fighting for her life instead of playing dodgeball)  The kid on the other side that she is up against keeps morphing into something else (all different shapes and sizes) every time she tries to throw a ball at him.  Instead of balls flying at the girl, she is dodging bullets and knives.

 

 

Dance with Mama

My son loves the outdoors.  I imagine that my child would pitch a tent in the yard and move his crib into it if I let him.  The other day when we were on one of our numerous walks in the backyard amongst the trees, I picked him up and started to ballroom dance with him around the yard.  Hearing him laugh with joy, I almost forgot the nearly constant pain I feel when I think about the reality of the struggle we have ahead of us with his father.  As we continued to dance around, I looked into his big brown eyes and asked, “Are you going to dance with Mama like this on your wedding day?”

I didn’t expect a response from my son as he is still a non-verbal one year old, but the fact that I thought about my sons wedding day got me thinking about deeper issues.  Here I was socializing my son and setting him up for lasting relationships before he was even able to talk.  This also had me thinking about my own failed dreams.  I had always imagined being married BEFORE I had children and now, as I spun my son around, I wondered if he would dance with me someday at MY wedding too (or if I would ever even have a wedding).  How would I be able to show my son what a healthy relationship looked like if I was now incapable of having one?

After learning that the man I thought I was going to marry was a completely different person than he portrayed himself to be, and that our relationship was based on a myth, I wondered if I would ever be capable of trusting someone enough to enter into the commitment of marriage.  Until Luc, I had never experienced a betrayal like this.  I went from being the type of woman who dreamed of her wedding day to a mom who is, frankly, a little terrified of that type of commitment.

It’s moments like these when I truly worry about my baby boy.  Will he ever get married?  Will the damage his father causes prohibit him from falling in love?  Even though I can’t show him a loving relationship with his father, will he still grow up to understand the importance of being married?  Will he ever see his mother being treated like his grandpa treats his grandma?

My son’s older brother doesn’t have a mother anymore.  She was shot when he was just a toddler.  A year ago today, Luc threatened to kill me as me and my son fled his house.  Today, I am thankful to be alive to tell the story and I pray that I will be around to dance with my son on his wedding day.

 

 

 

The Boiling Water

Almost a year ago to this day I had to flee my ex’s house with my two week old son and not much more than the clothing on our backs.  (I was still bleeding from child birth) I felt like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water on my head.  How could I have been living with a man capable of such terror?  What had I missed?  Did I really know this person I had been sleeping next to, I had been engaged to, and with whom I shared a child?  Who WAS this stranger?  As I looked at Lucifer (that is what I will call him for the sake of this blog – “Luc” for short) he even looked like a monster.  He flew into a rage scarier than I have ever seen in just an instant.

If you throw a frog into a pot of boiling water, he will jump out; however, if you put that frog in a pot of cool water and slowly bring it to a boil – well, you are going to have one dead frog.

So yes, the crazy was always there with my ex but at first his charm was able to completely disarm me.  I was an endangered frog in no time.  He was able to lie as easy as it was for him to breath.  He told me about his budding music career and how he was signed by a major record label and about to release his first album.  (I know…it sounds unreal…because it is)  He also told me he had a software business as a side business while he waited for his music career to take off.  He was raising his pre-teen son alone as the mother had been in an accident and passed away. (I later learned that she had been murdered)  He was full of stories about the people he had preformed with and the adventures of his life.  He told stories in such extreme detail that it left anyone wondering if it would even be possible to lie about such a grand and verifiable event/story.  He owned a large house in the suburbs and a luxury car.  Every so often he would disappear for days and tell me he was going to “the studio”.  He would accept phone calls from a publicist (whom I later learned did not exist) and constantly talked about how he was on the brink of success.

This glamour show went on for quite a while (several months).  He poured on the charm and told me just what I wanted to hear.  He even asked my parents for my hand in marriage after only a few months of dating.  I was so taken and intrigued by him, I ignored some of the oddities.  For example:

-  How come none of this stuff about his music career was actually happening?  He told people he was on tour with Rihanna, but never actually went to any of the concerts.  (Later, during one of our trials, his son’s therapist even indicated that his son had told her we all had gone to see his father in concert.  This never occurred unless he had somehow drugged me and I have forgotten, but you would think one would remember seeing their then fiance on stage performing with Rihanna.)

-  How come when his son’s grandparents took him for the weekend they would meet and exchange him at a police station?  (Luc always claimed this was because he was afraid of them.)

-  Why did he stay home so much if he was responsible for a business?  Where were his employees?  How come he couldn’t go into that much detail about his software product?

-  Where was his family?  Friends? (I later learned that his family had disowned him after blaming him for the death of his own mother.)

-  Why did he dress like a thug and refuse to cut his hair (or his sons hair)?

 

Over time, the rages started.  Unfortunately, by the time the mask started to come down – I was already pregnant.  In the middle of the winter he would shut the heat off in the house telling me that he was low on cash and that if I needed heat I needed to pay for it.  In the summer, when I was 9 months pregnant – he would shut off the air conditioning and ask me to rub HIS feet.  When I would ask for a foot rub in return, his response would be, “I don’t do that.”  To an outsider who was thrown suddenly into something like this, they might see that there was something wrong with the man.  I was already knee deep in shit (and clearly a blind frog as well).

The closer I was to giving birth, the weirder things became.  His son went to school and accused him of child abuse (even had a bruise on his back to prove it).  Luc swore his son was lying.  Luc’s mood was also becoming extremely dark.  He wasn’t sleeping, he refused to leave the house, and he certainly wasn’t working.  He had excuse upon excuse about why his career hadn’t taken off, but it was becoming clear that there was something amiss with his story.  That being said, I still couldn’t figure out what was wrong. He even tried to claim he had had a mild stroke at one point (after I began asking questions about why he was home so often).  Illness was often his excuse for sitting around the house.  Whenever I would ask him to come somewhere with me or why he hadn’t done any work, he would feign a terrible and debilitating migraine.  (While I can’t prove that he doesn’t have some sort of medical condition causing the migraines, looking back on this situation, it appears suspect that one would always occur when he was faced with meeting my friends or hanging around my family.)

Finally, reality punched me in the face – hard.  A few weeks after I gave birth, this man sexually assaulted someone in my family.  To this day he claims it was consentual.  Based on what I know, I don’t believe this for a second.  One of the major reasons I do not trust that this event was consensual is because every single time Luc recounted his version of what took place that night – it changed.  For example, Luc told the police that my sister was “hesitant and reluctant” but had eventually agreed.  The, during our custody trial he acted as if it was him who had been raped.  My sister went to the hospital and the rape kit showed that she had internal and external injuries.  That doesn’t tend to happen when sex is consensual.  I have, however, learned that the police in Virginia do not often recognize rape unless a man jumps out of the bushes with a ski mask and assaults a victim he does not know.  I digress…

The night I learned of what happened, I took my baby boy and left Luc.  (And subsequently stoped paying Luc’s bills)  In the weeks that followed, I learned that I didn’t know this man at all.  Here are some things I did learn:

1) The mother of his older son was murdered.  About six months before his son’s mother was murdered, Luc changed his name to his son’s name and then claimed the woman’s life insurance policy was intended for him.  This murder has gone unsolved for nearly ten years.  An officer from the Manassas City Police Department named Luc in open court as the prime person of interest in this murder.

2)  His own mother was found in his home with a bag pressed to her face (he collected several hundred thousand on her life insurance policy – this is what he was living off of when I met him)

3)  There was no music career or software company.  He hadn’t worked a day in his life…or at least had no proof of ever having had a legitimate job.  During one of our custody trials, Luc was asked when the last time was that he “earned” money.  He responded by citing that he had collected an insurance settlement in 2002 after having been in a car accident.  I guess he misunderstood what my attorney meant by the word “earned”.

4)  He is 14 years older than he originally told me he was.  He told me that he was 26 when we met, however, he was actually 38.  Potentially more disturbing is the fact that when he changed his name to his son’s name, he also changed his year of birth from 1972 to 1977.  1977 is the date of birth he put on my son’s birth certificate.

5)  The only “business” that we were able to find him connected to was an internet porn site he created to exploit women (some who didn’t even agree to be portrayed on the site).  While he denied any association with pornography during the custody trials, he testified under oath during other court proceedings that he did own this online pornographic material.

So I left and never looked back.  This incident happened almost a year ago today.  Time often heals wounds, but sometimes I feel just as angry as I was the night I left.  I have learned that emotional wounds are worse than physical ones.  Physical wounds heal and while they might leave a scar, the scar might just turn into a story you tell a friend while waiting for the bus one day.  Emotional wounds change you.  This situation has seriously rocked my entire being.  While in the past year I have been able to come to the realization that I was just a mark and never someone Luc cared about (as true psychopaths are incapable of true feelings), I am still angry.  I feel emotionally robbed.

So the above story was my boiling water.  The pot is still boiling to a degree, as I attempt to detangle myself from this monster, but at least now I know its boiling.

Lot’s of people try and claim their ex is a psychopath.  Well, mine really is.