Crazy Ex
Isn't it true that we all have a crazy ex in our lives? Some of us are fortunate enough to have only one while others suffer the misfortune of having several.
 
My boyfriend (aka: The Good Doc) has a crazy ex he dated when he lived in San Diego. This ex developed a strange, obsessive attachment on the Good Doc which culminated in the crazy ex assaulting him and tearing his shirt (which was a fabulous Dolce and Gabanna!!!) one evening outside his home. In addition my boyfriend's neighbors called him on one occasion to let him know that the obsessive ex was sneaking around outside his home while attempting to look into the windows. Well, to make a long story short my boyfriend has (had?) a restraining order against the obsessive ex in San Diego county.
I don't want to go into details on the obsessive ex's issues but rest assured they're numerous and sad. Recently he has been contacting my boyfriend via e-mail, and having managed to find out where the Good Doc worked, called there, spoke to my boyfriend's administrative assistant ( who is no longer his assistant) and got his personal cell phone number. I warned the Good Doc about continuing to maintain contact with the obsessive ex (when dealing with these types of people it's best to cut off all contact and not to respond when they reach out to you) but my boyfriend is a kind, sometimes too kind, person and he thought that responding to the obsessive ex would calm him down.
Well that was a bad move. Now in addition to the obsessive ex having my boyfriend's new San Francisco cell phone number he has managed to get our home address. How do I know this? He sent an e-mail to the Good Doc asking about the "birthday card" he sent to him and stating he knew where we lived.
I grew up in a single-parent family and my mom had the unfortunate habit of getting involved with men who were obsessive and abusive. I remember us coming home one night and finding out little apartment trashed by my sister's father Gene, our clothing slashed to pieces, curtains torn to shreds and later was told as an adult by my mother that Gene had jacked-off on the mirror in her bedroom. When we left the apartment we found the ignition wires in our car had been cut. Gene had waited for us to get home and then attempted to prevent us from leaving.
Later that evening we thought we found sanctuary in my grandfather's house on the outskirts of Durango but Gene had followed our car there and broke in in the middle of the night and tried to kidnap my sister, I remember being 7 years old and my brother and I holding each other and screaming as my sister's father tried in vain to pull my two-year old sister out of my mother's arms. All of this ended with my grandfather running into the room and attempting to shoot my sister's father. He missed but that scared Gene badly enough that he ran out the back door and managed to escape over the Colorado border into Arizona. Back then custody disputes were handled state-by-state and "custodial interference" didn't exist, so he knew if he got out of Colorado he would get away, and he did.
After that we lived in dread. We slept with a thick iron bar across our door, my sister wasn't allowed to play outside without my mother there and at day care none of us were allowed to be outside with the other kids. Gene would taunt my mother by leaving notes in our mailbox describing what my mom and sister were wearing that day, letting us know that he would be back, that he was watching. We never escaped this climate of fear until we moved away from Colorado to Oregon. Kind of a fucked-up way for a kid to grow up, aye?
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Why do I bring this up now? Because I know what it's like to live in fear, and more than anyone else I know I am aware of how to deal with these types of dangerously obsessive personalities. I told my boyfriend that if the obsessive ex shows up at our house in San Francisco he's going to see the open end of a pistol and I mean business. I lived though this as a kid and I can tell you there's no damn way I'm going to do the same as an adult.
5:54:26 PM 
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