“You left the scene without a trace

One hand on the ground, one hand in space.

Oh, you passed on mercy, you tried the rest

You gave your body, you gave your best.

Starin’ at the green door, livin’ in the sky

You don’t wanna know, you just wanna fly.

“uh-oh Hello (hello), hello again.”

~ “Hello Again” The Cars

After my world took another hit from a denser comet, a numbness ran through my mind and soul. To hear she was heavily medicated, in chronic pain, depressed, hadn’t worked out in a year and never left the house was hard to read. The other side of the comet was much harder to absorb, unwilling to believe she wrote it, regardless of the handwriting’s authenticity. Or maybe because concentrating on that other part would officially vanquish her love forever. Concentrating on the accident that left her in such bad shape, writing an email to Debbie and Carolyn became a matter of instinct.

Debbie/Carolyn,

I heard about Anya’s accident. How could you guys not tell me about this? Do you have any idea why I was truly in her life at all? Do you truly think we were about wrecking a family and hurting kids? What kind of person do you think I am? If that was true, why would I have ever gotten involved? Do you know how many times she voiced her complaints about having to run kids around in hazardous conditions to get them to and from activities? Do you know how many times she voiced her unhappiness to me? How much I made her happy? What’s my crime? Wanting her to pursue happiness? If Jackson had been a true-blue faithful husband and I pushed her to be with me, then I could understand being judged but that was not the case. I pushed HER to have love and happiness—not to break up a family and hurt kids. She shouldn’t be punished just for wanting to be happy and not feel alone. If her mental wellbeing isn’t in place, how could the well being of her kids ever be? Do you think she was being irrational now, Carolyn? It’s only irrational for her to stay and to keep putting herself in the position to go through what she’s going through now. I’m in search of the truth here. What was my true role in this? I thought I was helping someone out, not destroying lives.

I wrote this email with every intention to send, but never did—just needing to get all the emotions out in front of me. Inside a fire raged, knowing I could get her well again and back on track. Back in her kick boxing class and running halves. Back to being there for her kids—playing catch with Andrew—helping Katie backstage at her shows. Taking a couple Vicodin to slow down my speeding heartbeat after taking an arrow to it, left her letter's cold intentioned nature lost in translation. Her purposeful intention never phasing me, still too connected to her pain—to her sadness. Knowing my absence in her life now led to physical pain is why I fought for a promise—for her to know. There was never an intention to break up a family, but to care for a woman who never deserved this. The need to be there for her now greater than ever, to ensure this never happened again. Knowing her struggle and the life she “hated”, she remained in harm’s way--as long as I was out of the way. She told me one time “life is beyond scary” without me in it and now, I know what she meant. Scary for the both of us.

Consumed with an unexplained uneasiness even Vicodin pills couldn’t stymie, I went online seeking any new information about her. It was there where I learned the true extent of her pain and her inability to work out in a year. The depth of her depression, the resulting weight gain and why she never left the house—two weeks earlier it took her four hours and twenty-two minutes to finish the Los Angeles marathon. It didn’t mean Anya couldn’t be in chronic pain due to the accident. It didn’t mean she couldn’t be heavily medicated. It also didn’t mean she never left the house and she still never visited the gym to work out in a year. But, if she was strong enough to run a twenty-six-mile race, she couldn’t be in the amount of pain she wanted me to believe she was in.

After getting through my initial emotional reaction brought on by her letter, I shifted my emotions to the rest of the message. As I did, it inspired an internet search for articles about women staying for the sake of the kids. Each article found driving home the point—it was wrong to stay for the sake of the kids in instances of infidelity. Not a single article in favor of staying in those marriages. As much as Anya never wanted to face anything, I’ve come to see my own stubbornness—how I never wanted to face anything either—wanting badly to hold onto a love that had already left me for dead. Although it hurt to know the pain her accident caused, it also brought with it the time to see things for what they were—not what I hoped for things to be. Her memory surrounded me in shapes and forms—the alarm clock on my nightstand, the CD’s stacked next to the iPod lying on my dresser and all that music in my head. Four years of living and breathing Anya, even without her in my life for half that time, had turned me into a stranger to myself. And after all the caring, all the loving, all the giving, and all the suffering, she only cared enough to tell me to fuck off at the same time wishing me the best in life—her politics on full blatant display. Telling me the heart pendant had zero meaning was something I could take but would never understand its intent—even after requesting my nobility yet never finding the nobility to tell me the truth about her love. Rather than an apology, or just sending me back the necklace, then wishing me the best in life, she toyed with my emotions one last time with another tool of manipulation. Sending me a memento with one purpose—to serve herself.

Stewing over the letter became my newest pastime—now knowing all I tried to deny. Time seemed to stand still, her treason crushing me deeply enough to crack everything ever held dearly. Landyn was the greatest, most wonderful perfect man in the world as long as he remained a secret. Believing Anya lied to me also meant lying to myself tenfold. She didn’t care how her staying left me to feel—looking at it as her duty to her kids to leave a forever deepened crater inside me. Our love was just something she never believed in, and if she ever did, it was for a brief time. To allow and encourage all these emotions without reservation, malicious intent was the only word for it. Love would’ve never stopped her from seeing me. Love would’ve known what we stood for—never looking upon us as betraying kids. Love would’ve wanted me to meet Andrew and Katie after sharing their daily lives with me. Above all else, if she ever loved me, it would’ve never been a question of if but when. Blinded by her version of love, bombing me with it, left me deaf too.

If the heart pendant had no meaning, it was only right to return it. Anya had the choice of writing me a kind letter, instead she chose nastiness. After all she led me to believe and fight for, she had no right. If her plan was to deny me closure, then seeking it the same way she chose to love me, on my own terms would be the mission. Anya wanted the best in life for me yet chose the path of sending a hurtful message instead, even posting pictures of her sitting on the lap of the pig that changed my life forever because of all she told me about him. She had five fucking months before she dated me to think about betraying her kids—even dating another before me. She approached and pursued me and initiated over ninety percent of all the meetings we ever had—claiming she missed me and didn’t know how she’d make it through her days. Each time there I was—catching her—trusting her every word. After all I’ve risked personally, with my life falling apart at the seams every single waking day, I deserved her respect, not her nastiness.

To a certain extent, this was my fault—trusting someone I had no business trusting. While each night she still laid next to and shared intimacy with a man she told me cheated on her several times—the only reason I chose to trust her—trusting her pain enough to be loyal to her regardless. Her disrespectful letter was not deserved from a woman who encouraged, who allowed and who brought me into her life. I never approached her—she approached me. My only crime was pointing out the truth about her feelings, expecting her to ignore them only if she never loved me. For her to trust the man who scoured every resource available to justify our love—to know it could never be a betrayal of her children. My reward, knowing how deeply I still loved her, was one last toy—a heart pendant that meant “nothing”.

If Anya truly ever loved me, and our love was truly special, she would’ve never jeopardized losing it. I told her if Jackson truly loved her, he would’ve never cheated one time because he’d never risk losing it—my own advice haunting me forever. All the times she questioned my authenticity, the day she told me “we mothers sacrifice anything for our children”, after allowing and encouraging me to fall deeply in love with her, was the day I should have known she was never real. Something I should’ve heard from her the night we met—not six months after experiencing the greatest love I’ll ever know without restraint. Those tears I heard over the phone in Canada, the endless sobs were for herself and for her kids, never meant for us. My only role in her life was to make it interesting again, to be her confidant, giving her sexual pleasure without worrying about kids being around. While her role in mine was to be all I ever believed in—my everything.

Love would’ve been up front with me, never leading me to question it enough to ask for her to return the necklace seeking its truth. Love would’ve wanted the necklace to be representative of a promise ring—not just a keepsake. The thingie may not have been representative of a promise for her, but it had to be representative of trust in her love for me. Everything isn’t anything, when you’re in love with someone. The only reason she considered it bold asking for the necklace was because she chose to stay with someone else—claiming it was a betrayal of her kids if she didn’t as if we never shared a thing for two years. Now, nearly two years later, the only reason she “loved” me was because her marriage afforded her financial support and security—never having to be on a budget. To believe I was truly loved was my greatest error of judgment made, in a life full of them.

The burning desire to call to get everything off my chest was quelled when realizing she’d likely just hang up the phone. The person who wrote that letter couldn’t have cared less. The kids would only hate me more—already the villain in this story to them—Mom and Dad were the heroes. It seemed Anya made a pact with Jackson to do everything in their power to stay for the sake of the kids, or at least until they were out of the house. The problem was Anya never informed me of it when we met, deciding to allow me to fall in love with her then making me aware of it. For all I knew, Jackson was standing over her shoulder when that letter was written. Her handwriting did appear frantic, but my mind disallowed me from making further excuses for her behavior. For those who ever claimed to love me, demanding them to prove it and not just say it became paramount. After all my failed relationships, a great need to hold the word “love” to the highest of standards existed. In fact, no one should ever expect anything less. People needed to mean what they say and say what they mean when it comes to the words “I love you”—especially when “forever” trails it.

Anya knew I still loved her, without a doubt. Giving her a hard time about these ill feelings was never on my to-do list—no one should have to put up with my whining, bitching, and moaning. Her feeling sorry for me was the last thing on the earth I wanted. The truth began to hit me harder than anything—when you love someone, it never feels that way. If all Anya could see was her kids being hurt each time I took a stand for our love—wanting her to make a promise and making it not a question of if but when—then it just couldn’t have been love. When she told me “what” after asking her to make a promise to be with me on St. Patrick’s Day spoke louder than anything she ever told me—the game was on. My trust after that moment, without realizing it, shattered into pieces.

The unique gift was me. She had no right meeting her “soulmate” after she got married, if she ever felt she betrayed her kids. If my duty was to be a big boy if things didn’t work out, then she needed to be a big girl by being honest about my role in her life. If anyone respected Anya, how could they ever find fault in her reasons? Anya was never ditching her kids, or her role as mother, for me. When she looked upon things that way—she gave me no chance. If she truly ever loved me, wouldn’t she have been proud of it? I was the second guy, not the first. Who was she trying to fool? Why did she wreck my life by allowing me to feel so much then never knowing? The truth was, she always knew, but she played as far as the game would allow her to. When it got into the later innings, her mask came off. She told me she hated her life and her anger would never be resolved yet still conspired with Jackson and begged for his forgiveness in the end. Now, I had more than enough reasons for losing trust in her. I only acted out in a manner consistent with someone who claimed to be in love with me. Someone who missed me constantly—from the minute she woke up until she fell asleep and then all over again. Someone who hated their life who dreamt, hoped, and wished to be with me—even having a dream about our wedding and wanting to wear my ring. Now, it all seemed like a phase she went through and all she needed was time away and a return to her not having to be on a budget existence. Her words as empty and deceptive as the darkest of all souls. My sanity forever questionable.

It just felt she had planned this all along—taking advantage of my “innocent” qualities knowing how this would all play out. Love bombing to throw me off enough to question my sanity if I ever questioned her true intentions, or a lack of intent to be together. Anya claimed to never know what she, and we, were up against, but she had a neighborhood full of families who dealt with instances of infidelities and divorce as sources. Even the police official in her neighborhood was likely put on high alert months before we crashed—her go to person if anything happened like this between us. Everything that day caught me by total surprise—it seemed too well orchestrated, as if this happened to her before. If she ever had real plans to be with me, reminding me of my I’d be a “big boy” comment if things didn’t work out would never have crossed her mind—especially after denying me a very deserving full disclosure the night we reconnected.

She painted a picture of herself to me as a wife deeply angered and affected by her husband’s gross disrespect—her heart having been chipped away over the years. She never told me it was all in the past before allowing me to fall in love with her and giving her the person she needed if she left—the only reason she was still there. She never told me she had forgiven him but not just forgotten—forgiveness can never exist with remembrance. She didn’t tell me about a mother’s sacrifice—the true reason she was still married until six months after we reconnected. Lance, the man she was with before me, never left her because she had kids—what she led me to believe. Lance left her because he found out the same way I did—she either left him or was forced to leave her. Either way, she abandoned him the same way she abandoned me—and she was offering no apologies for it—not a single one. She sold her marriage to me as a “situation” even telling me “there is no marriage” yet screamed the last day of our relationship “I’m married!” My eyes and heart couldn’t believe the things she texted me with a complete disregard for anything she ever told me and everything we ever shared. After revealing she needed permission from her kids to leave, or for him to cheat on her again, it left me wading in an ocean suddenly vaporized--here I was and there she wasn’t.

I’ve never taken advantage of people’s emotions and feelings for me, treating them like glass. If Anya’s love had a face, it would look like Bernie Madoff--using my emotions against me, allowing and encouraging a codependency on her love then forgetting all she sold me on—the ultimate bait and switch. Her callous “it’s how I felt at the time” statement screamed a sense of entitlement. She was entitled to allow and encourage people to fall in love with her even on false ground, one she planned to pull out from under any man she loved--a demonic characteristic. Anya had a right to be upset with me at times, I never wanted to be right about anything I questioned, but she needed to look at herself to understand why the questions existed. Instead she didn’t want to face anything anymore—as if she was an innocent five year old child—not only leaving me with a broken heart but with a broken soul.

I truly believed Anya loved me, even with the doubts, but after her unapologetic letter, she simply didn’t know what love was enough to know she did—the heart pendant would have had meaning. Anya had manifested into Denise times a million—there was no surviving this. Anya told me she was not a good actress, and she was right—she wasn’t an actress, but a salesperson always on circuit. She got her idea of love from movies, books and music—from those who probably didn’t know what love was either. The evidence of her loveless ways was overwhelming, and it always was. I just refused to pay attention—until now. Love had to become a verb before it became a noun—it’s that simple. Being in love with Anya was the dearest and greatest of all things life ever offered me. She made it seem like a normal everyday thing to feel. In the end, it seemed she was just a desperate housewife in search of excitement and privacy outside her marriage, accidentally meeting a man who believed in love and would hold her accountable. She banked on me leaving her, and when I didn’t, she shifted her plan, doing what every woman who never loved me did. This time, respecting the serial philanderer over the man who would never dream of doing such a thing, by allowing Jackson to keep us apart.

She love bombed me not because she was madly in love, but to build love in my heart for her so I’d feel crazy if I ever questioned it. Then, using it against me to create a way to make it a rational decision to leave me and to end us. The hardest part was learning she felt she did the right thing to stay away from me. That not seeing or talking to me anymore was her best choice—a decision a love for me could never make. Love always somehow found a way to make it work, but she never cared enough to even meet me in the middle even after penning her a thirty-page apology letter. And her response to my mega apology letter? Five sentences handwritten on pretty stationary.

The time arrived for me to look at her love at face value. The record though, needed to be set straight. Armed with my belief in love and the truth, my side of the story needed to be told and known. It was time to take my belief in love to its limit, believing I had more power than Anya and Jackson wanted to admit. To have all these feelings for four years and have them mean nothing, like the heart pendant she gave me, wouldn’t allow me to just disappear into my best life. The people that knew about our relationship needed to know one last thing--our love was never about breaking up a family. I never would’ve fallen in love if I knew that was the outcome. Even at her most vulnerable moments when she wanted to run away, I never took advantage of those times, like most men with my feelings would have. It was my right to clear up every possible misconception anyone had about me—refusing to stand down to a false moral values society—their only moral basis being money. Money made the worst decisions rational. The world that surrounded Anya was fake, but I wasn’t. Jackson bought his image and everyone else bought in except me—too real to ever buy in. The reason I was in any of their lives was because I was manipulated to be—never expecting to be pit against the happiness of her children and only expecting to be pit up against her unholy marriage.

Anya was only in love with the idea of being in love—the hardest thing for me to accept. Money was Anya’s master, not even the love of a million lifetimes could change that—never having any intentions of going on a budget. The worst of Anya’s love for me is she was ultimately not the decision maker—her kids, her family and even Jackson were. Her kids would hate her if she left. Her family wouldn’t accept her leaving Jackson because they believed she married well. Most of all, the real monster would never have allowed it. Yet knowing this from day one, make no mistake she did, she still allowed me to fall deeply in love with her claiming she wasn’t able to help it. Now, there were things I couldn’t help—let’s see how understanding she would be. Our love was only a dream to her, never close to reality if her husband would allow her to even the score. I was led to believe my love for Anya was never about breaking up a family, but about breaking up an already broken marriage. If that was never true, then she betrayed me like a seven-mile-wide asteroid betrayed the dinosaurs. and I could only face the resentment I had for her now. Even after she crushed my soul with her letter, I still feared hurting her by believing all this.

I had no idea she was anything like Jackson—a sociopath, the model narcissist. Always sticking up for her—defending and standing up for her whenever her love came in question by others. To accept the person who did all those things for me, who I shared all those moments with, and who became my best friend, really wasn’t “in love” with me was forever damaging. But it was more than a possibility that Anya was just in love with the “feeling” and not with the person who made her feel that way. She had to know better, after dating Lance and having a stalker in her life, to go around loving people with her heart and soul without any intent to be with the person. Anyone who truly loved someone would have to be as upset as I was about this. Now, at forty years of age, this could not be looked upon as a learning experience but rather the end of all I ever believed in. Knowing my best friend and soulmate now promoted me to everyone in her circle as the wrecking ball to her family broke me in places I never knew could be broken.

There was too much wrong in all of this—too many heavy emotions that bordered resentment—all things I always feared feeling. My silence only adding to their suspicion of my guilt and their ire. No doubt they all thought I was crazy with no defense from the one who claimed to love me forever. If her ultimate goal the night we met was to continue protecting the prick she married while also having to understandably protect her kids, after all she told me about him allowing me to trust her, there could be no greater betrayal. To think about the nights spent home alone missing her while she partied, surrounded by love while claiming to miss me, drove my mind to the darkest places it ever visited. There was no choice—after learning about the marathon, she needed to be contacted again. Especially after sending me a heart pendant meaning nothing while knowing how much I read into things. I never deserved her disrespect, only an apology. And for the first time in nearly two years, it was time to text her.

ME: “I got your letter. I’m sorry to hear about your accident. I will respect your wishes however if you truly want the best for me in life, I would like an apology from you for sending me the heart pendant and I promise you will never hear from me again.”

To say there was no intention to fire the text off to her on a Sunday night—the night of her fraudulent family dinner, would be the greatest of lies—showing her as much respect for her dinners as she had for my heart by sending me the “meaningless” heart pendant. Her intention to be disrespectful mirrored my disrespectful intent to get an apology I deserved—if the heart pendant was sent as a memento—only something to remember her by as if I’d ever forget. She was a better person than this, so my text gave her the opportunity to prove it—if she truly wanted the best in life for me—if she truly believed she would now suffer forever. Anya fooled me for three plus years, her nasty letter waking me up to the truth—refusing to be her fool any longer. She always knew the relationship was inequitable yet leaving me to believe she would change the terms of our love one day, but when she ran, she proved everyone right—she just couldn’t have truly loved me. And if she ever did, it was only when I never questioned her honesty in the most dishonest of situations. Anya’s letter and heart pendant provided all the evidence in the world she had zero respect for me—none. Instead of bringing balance to her love, she blamed me for its inequity after it morphed into a question, even pulling away after allowing me to feel its depth every single day for two years. The time arrived to tip the scales of justice out of her favor. Her love made me feel like a burden and a disease, and never the cure after allowing me to believe in so much. The time had come for truth in its purest form.

Anya never had to be with me if it’s not what she wanted, but she led me to believe she did. Two years was not a brief period of time in any relationship like ours—it was substantial in every sense of the word. The problem was she was framing me as the problem, while she posted pics online of her with the man, she told me horrible things about, that changed my life forever. She had the actual audacity to believe a man who loved her as deeply as I did—allowing me to feel all I did without restraint, would be just fine with her staying with a pig? Jackson was the greatest of creeps, the douchebag of the century. He destroyed another man’s marriage without a care and cheated on Anya when she was pregnant with their second child. And I didn’t care what anyone said, her son was born prematurely because of the stress it caused her. Anya wrecked her body forever loving that piece of shit and he had the gall to cheat on her during a time she needed him the most. The most disgusting thing was I got the same nastiness he did because I held Anya accountable for everything she told me that allowed me to feel all I did. Sure, she tried to break it off, but she had already shot me with her love, then expected me to easily stop the blood pouring out of me. To say I wasn’t livid about her heartless letter was an understatement, something only a Vicodin could ease. Her ashes promise now seemed to be said out of guilt and not out of love, and I didn’t want it. If she wasn’t brave enough to tell her kids who her heart was with, then confusing them was wrong. And if she wasn’t brave enough to give me more than her ashes, I could never be moved enough by the gesture to see the love in it. It didn’t matter if she couldn’t promise to be together—she told me three little words often, “I love you” and even added a “forever” in there. I just never knew it came with the caveat “as long as it’s a secret”. Well, as long as it’s a secret, it’s not love to me—my own caveat to her. If she couldn’t promise me a thing, she had no right to fight me whenever I questioned her love.

Two days later, at 9:18 on a Tuesday morning, Anya texted me for the first time in almost two years. Two times to be exact, in response to my request for an apology.

ANYA: “I am asking for a domestic violence restraining order against you today 10/7/2011, because you won’t stop harassing me. I will submit my app to the family court.”

ANYA: “At 341 The City Drive in Orange, CA at 1:30 p.m. You and your attorney can appear at the family clerk’s office room #C-706 on the 7th Floor for more information.”

Her message shook me to my core—her chosen response to promising she would never hear from me again. When did wanting an apology become worthy of a protective order? If this is harassment, then she harassed me for two years. To accuse me of harassment, after sending me a heart pendant while seeking closure after two years of losing things because of her misrepresentations destroyed the shred of emotional intelligence I had—if any at this point. This was my reward for caring about someone’s happiness over my own, losing a career job and struggling to survive every day, falling slave to a pill just to get through them. Anya and her pig husband dropped the gauntlet, and it was time to pick it up—refusing to be treated like a person who never existed in her life after all I gave and shared with her. I didn’t know how this would play out, but I was confident in one thing—the truth was on my side. There were no fake stories coming from me—they were all based in honesty, what was right and what was just—wrong stood no chance in this battle.

ME: “Please be my guest. Wow. You just really love to dodge all responsibility for anything. The truth will be told and learned.”

Believing her kids would be there during the restraining order process, I sent the next text to scare her from doing so knowing the consequences. Sure, I was mad at her, but never wanted her kids to know about this. If she went through with getting the restraining order, they’d likely find out, so I sent her a text to discourage her.

ME: “You will learn along with your family and your children will learn in this life, you respect the feelings of others. I am looking forward to defending myself.”

ME: “This is not about protecting a family but rather an act of protecting the reputation of someone you led me to believe hurt you beyond repair and an act to destroy my reputation. You will only learn that all the money in the world makes you and your family no better than other people. I guess an apology I deserved was just too much to ask for.”

ME: “Would you have been in an accident if you listened to me and chose happiness instead of choosing an anger you refuse to resolve? Nope. These people will only learn how special of a man you had who would put your own needs above his own.”

ME: “Harassment is defined by legitimate purpose, and I have the absolute right to an emotional response and to feel the way I do after sending me the heart pendant. You could’ve shown some class, dignity and respect but instead you decide to treat me like a criminal, but we will all soon learn who was truly wronged.”

ME: “The kids would’ve only gotten 100% of the best mom. Now they'll only get what’s left of her. I care about your wellbeing. That’s why I fought and if I couldn’t fight for that, then I was lied to about everything and someone’s going to pay for that. It won’t be me anymore. I promise. I’ve paid for it for nearly 4 years already.”

ME: “I guess it stopped being a question of being with you a long time ago. If you can’t appreciate someone who cared about you as much as I did, then it’s your loss. However, the one thing you and the shithead you married will never do is question my character. I only asked for a detailed apology, a simple request, and let me tell you this, after all I’ve gone through because of the things you allowed and encouraged me to feel, I’m entitled to that much at the very least.”

ANYA: “Stop contacting and harassing me and threatening me.”

My response was never meant to be a threat, but a natural one after she threatened me with a restraining order. Why would she chance having our relationship breach the awareness of her children? Something only three adults should have knowledge of? Anya’s response, just like her letter, only added fuel to a scorching star, further provoking me to respond to her. But she could stoke the same fire whenever she used the word “please” insincerely as well. Anya’s life wasn’t in danger and neither was Shithead’s, but their secret sure in the fuck was. She knew what she had to do to get rid of me for good—offer the apology my life deserved from her. I’d kill myself before killing anyone if the urge ever existed. My only threat to her was the truth—only because of the need to arm myself with it. Threatening me with a restraining order, let alone attempting to obtain one made no sense whatsoever if all she had to do was sincerely apologize—why put her kids at risk of learning about us? Did she want them to find out? Or was Jackson hoping to have them learn more? The end game didn’t make sense unless Jackson drove her to do this—she had more to lose. Or maybe my mailings had made her vulnerable in front of the kids leaving her no choice? If the shoe were on the other foot, I’d offer the apology for sending the heart pendant knowing it meant nothing, and then if contacted again, the restraining order would be in play. She harassed me by sending the meaningless heart pendant. What Anya failed to see was her role in the responses she received as the instigator—I had a right to an emotional response—one I’d never dream of ever denying her nor bring a third party in to interfere with unless my physical safety was compromised. There was no doubt I was emotionally distraught but was never driven to reach out to Katie and Andrew to resolve it like other jilted lovers have done in my situation. No matter what Anya did, my ire rested with her and Jackson—not ever with her kids. I’d want my mother and father to stay together too even if they gave me nothing but the essentials and kept me in the dark about their problems.

Going on the rest of my life believing in a love that now inspired a restraining order to be filed against me was impossible. If she planned to go through with this, then with the exception of her children, my side of the story needed to be told to all those who were told something different--the truth on my side. Anya appeared to ignore the role she played in all the feelings I still carried that have taken away any dream of having a family of my own one day. Losing a career job on top of it and struggling to make ends meet after years of hard work made it even worse—especially if she needed the permission of a ten year old, a twelve year old, her philandering husband, family members, friends and co-workers in order to be together.

Pulling away from my disgust, I offered a peace flag hoping she’d choose the right path for the sake of her children—and not giving into Jackson’s seemingly bad advice. The truth in its entirety residing in me.

ME: “Give me a sincere detailed apology, and I will leave you alone. You will never hear from me again.”

I waited ten minutes for an apology filled response—a reasonable request. She had zero right to allow or encourage me to feel a single thing for her if she planned to use the kids against me and was never ambivalent to her marriage. If she ever backed staying with a man who cheated on her several times over a man who would never dream of doing so—even staying faithful to her for nearly four years now. She owed me an apology for telling me mothers sacrificed anything for their kids after allowing me to fall deeply in love with her. She owed me an apology for fighting with me when she never saw the good and only the bad in us being together—for listening to others and requiring their permission after taking my heart. She owed me an apology allowing the creep she married to never allow her to be with me—that I was the free pass he gave her to even the score. Everything she ever allowed me to feel, she owed me an apology for. A simple “I’m sorry” would never suffice, but the acknowledgments of the crimes she committed against my trusting nature, would be enough for me to move on to whatever my next move would be--the apology not as important as an acknowledgement for what she allowed and encouraged me to feel was wrong. When enough time passed leaving me to ascertain she believed an apology wasn’t deserved, my raw emotions shot out of my head like a canon—even remembering the time she thought her creepy husband might show up at my door and advising me not to answer.

ME: “You couldn’t tell that trinket was a heart and Landyn may overanalyze it like he always does? Give me a break. I’ve never threatened you with bodily harm and never would. I’ve never showed up at your doorstep or stalked you. You have no basis for filing a restraining order.”

ME: “And let Shithead know, if he ever comes to see me I’m going to rearrange his looks for good. That’s not a threat--it's a warning. If he ever makes the mistake to come and see me. I would take that as an act of violence and will defend myself accordingly.”

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ME: “That fucker invaded my privacy for over a year and a half. I will definitely counter with an invasion of privacy or cyber stalking charge. Get a divorce if you don’t trust your wife like any normal person would. Stay out of my private info.”

ME: “Respect my wishes and I will respect yours. Show me the dignity and class I always thought you had and you will receive the same in return. If you can’t do that, if you deny me the closure I deserve, then Iyou leave me no choice but to get closure in court in front of him as well.”

ME: “Money and things don’t lead to happiness. I’m not going to let you get away with this. I’m a great guy not some loser you married who cheats on pregnant women and ruins marriages without the thought of how that may hurt his wife and kids. He deserves this.”

ME: “I’ll protect you as much as I can.”

ME: “Your only fault was not falling in love with me--it was encouraging me to fall in love with you. Now that’s a good starting point for your detailed apology. Bring back the girl I know you are for one last time—I know she’s in there somewhere.”

ME: “So please apologize for what you put me through in detail so I know not to hate you for what you did and I’ll be out of your life forever. It will be all over.”

ME: “Or maybe you don’t want it to be over bad enough to do that? Please don’t deny me closure. I deserve that much at least.”

ME: “The Anya I knew would've done the right thing when it relates to us. At least we could live separately but on good terms.”

ME: “Your “accident” only angers me because if you had stayed true to your heart and feelings, if you just knew something to shut me the hell up, it would’ve never happened. And at least I could’ve helped you with the depression part of it.”

ME: “I know how much working out means to you. I know it’s been hell for you. It breaks my heart like you can’t believe because you inspired me to live a healthy lifestyle—it’s horrible. I haven’t slept thinking about it.”

ME: “Well, I guess if I ever win the Noble Peace Prize there will be a great debate over who’s was more unearned—mine or Obama’s.”

ME: “Sorry for coming off as an asshole. Please, please apologize and let’s move on with our lives in a positive way.”

After an hour cool down, I couldn’t help but feel bad for calling her husband a “Shithead” and that “I’d rearrange his looks for good”—he was the hero of his children. Beating anyone up was not me—said only to discourage him and in self-defense, but her remorseless responses just brought out the absolute worst in me. It just seemed he drove her to this option—not something she would ever consider. I’m certain they’d do anything to protect the kids, but Anya knew me—they were never in danger. If she did do this on her own then she knew sending the heart pendant was intentionally meant to hurt me. Without an acknowledgement through an apology of some kind, it would leave me feeling the same trauma a rape victim did—she never had my consent to our relationship if she put the decision to be with me in the hands of others who would never allow her to. For her to allow someone to feel so deeply, not only spoke of the mental damage she obtained over her marriage, but should also carry some kind of criminal charge--this wrecked my life. Her love left me never trusting in love ever again—costing me Sunday night family dinners of my own one day. Only a self- serving demon would do something this heinous. She never had my consent to care for her to only pit me against the happiness of her kids. She never had my consent leading me into an impossible situation that she knew would only hurt me. I needed to know she knew she was wrong and that the heart pendant was not a chess piece.

After downing three Vicodin horse pills at one time then washing them down with a tall glass of water, my descent into madness continued two hours after my first set of texts—still trying to hold onto the impossibility of a dream.

ME: “Some apology ideas: I’m sorry for encouraging you to fall in love with me when I think. I’m better than the general public and it’s the reason why I’ve stayed.”

ME: “I’m sorry for telling you “I love you forever” without also telling you “As long as it’s a secret”.”

ME: “I’m sorry for telling you I don’t want to lose 50% of my kids and I would need their permission before encouraging you to fall in love with me.”

ME: “I’m sorry for encouraging you to fall in love with me knowing my husband wouldn’t allow it and I’d accept his free pass never risking a thing other than remaining one up on him.”

ME: “You did not betray your kids. We did not betray your kids. HE betrayed YOUR kids the day HE cheated on and the years HE disrespected YOU, chipping your heart away for him. That’s the truth. Don’t ever doubt that.”

ME: “The one thing a husband should never do in this world is disrespect his wife. He’s to blame and he won’t get away with it and use me, or you, as his scapegoat. Not going to happen.”

ME: “Yes, I believe strongly in love. If it makes me look like a fool with a broken heart, then so be it. This world needs to change its ways. We can start right here with this.”

ME: “I stand up for what I believe in. I will die for what I believe in. I know what’s right and wrong. Everyone will know I was in this for all the right reasons.”

ME: “There’s a difference between loving someone and being in love. You led me to believe you were in love with me. Love knows. Love promises. I deserved you to know if it was love and not for you to fight with me whenever I felt it didn’t feel like it. The truth is going to make everything right in my world.”

ME: “I need to focus on more important things in my life and let this go. That’s what I was trying to do but you sent me a heart pendant. I have the right to a sincere apology acknowledging I was right about the way I felt based on that alone.”

ME: “If he’s going to hurt you by forcing you to drag this into court with me, I’m going to make sure he’s the one who looks bad. I know he’s not a good man and money can only hide so much. He won’t be able to hide behind it much longer.”

ME: “For the last 2 years I really didn’t know how to feel. Your last letter helped take the clouds away. I think what you told me should’ve come 3 months earlier if you didn’t want any more letters.”

ME: “Enjoy the rest of your day. If your husband lays a hand on you, let him know he will deal with me. Be careful.”

In my texts, I fought for nothing less than an act of contrition from her acknowledging the deception—to truly let go of what I now had no choice to. Her silence here, and over nearly the last two years, roared louder than a supernova—the woman I knew and loved was no longer the same woman. I didn’t know who the real Anya was anymore, but maybe I never did? I tried hard to believe her husband was behind this, but it wasn’t until receiving the completed domestic violence form, in her handwriting, that she was involved in a coup to overthrow me from her life forever.

DV-100 Item 23 – Description of Abuse

Landyn Lastman has been stalking me for years. He looks up any and every information about me. He is obsessed with me. He writes about my anniversary date with my husband. He has asked about my car accident that happened and I have not told him. He knows about my bodily injury from the car accident. I don’t know how he knows unless he can look up police reports. He knows about my “family” dinners I have every Sunday. He writes about me. He says he will be writing a book about me. He is working on publishing a book about me. He has also contacted my friends. I’m very sure that if his computer was investigated thoroughly it will have more information about me and my life than I will ever know. He is obsessed with me.

Her handwritten words sealed my fate leaving me no choice—I had to purge her from my heart, standing to lose much more continuing to hold on to someone who turned into the same beast her husband was. Here, her ability to deceive was on full display—she knew exactly how I learned about her car accident. Anya’s perjurious words left me reaching for three more Vicodin pills to deal with it all—especially upon seeing her signature on the form. Even going as far to tell the court about a book about her, and not about us—the same book she used to feed me titles to. The worst thing about her description of abuse wasn’t even the filing of the restraining order, but the undeniable truth she conspired with Jackson against me—that all those nights wasting away in isolation, my fleeting life meant nothing to her. That Jackson and Anya could enter people’s lives at their own volition, leaving them in their wake while theirs remained intact and unblemished was beyond maddening.

Her cold words were not only meant to break my heart, but to put me in my grave. Little did she realize however, she murdered me two years earlier leaving me no different than a ghost in limbo. While attempting to empathize with her cause even after refusing to accept any responsibility for the depth of all I felt—she shot me from point blank range then mocked me. If I remained noble in her eyes, there would be no reward, only ending up like the Great Gatsby—buried and forgotten forever without a single rose from the woman who claimed to love him. There was no way that would be me. I valued every single woman I ever encountered—always respecting and defending them, but this was something intolerable. Anya had a right to treat Jackson this way after all her ever put through—but not me. While she had neighbor parties and Sunday night family dinners, her love took those things away from me—and there was no getting back to the person I was before meeting her. Even when she didn’t know, I still believed she knew love. Unfortunately, we both needed to learn a few more things before we were through. If Anya refused to give me closure, I would seek it myself. If she didn’t care about my life, she would receive the same respect in return. There was no way I’d live the same lie she did.

After a lot of contemplation, and really against all I ever wanted to do, the compassion for her situation escaped me. The more I looked back on the bad times, the more they made sense and the time came to crush all hope—she needed to be eradicated from this heart of mine, like the disease her love was. She assumed for myself, a relationship on her terms alone, was worthy of encouraging and allowing me to be a part of while knowing she lacked both the courage and even the power to leave—a situation she knew would wreck any man who fell for her, like it did Lance. Without knowing, she punished me for the crimes her jackass husband committed forgetting the time I left her at the bar because she was married. She once told me “I was afraid this was going to happen”—no words she ever uttered were more indicative of her motive—if she had any real intention to be with me, she would’ve feared nothing. Before falling for her she led me to believe she was only there because no one would be there for her if she were to leave—it wasn’t until six months later she told me she would sacrifice anything for her children. And that’s a wonderful thing to tell someone but not after she allowed and encouraged someone to fall deeply in love with her. When she told me “I couldn’t help it” she also told me “I couldn’t help disrespect your heart”. The worst thing about it was she loved me so well—I could only see the love in it, but now her true colors have shown. Even after she told me “she was hoping to clear her head” when she returned home from a three-day "business trip" to the canary island of Tenerife with her husband, I still believed she loved me...while she didn’t even believe it herself--even admitting as much. Now each time she called what she felt “true love” only left me wondering if it was indirectly meant to be a dig—that it shocked her to fall in love with a man like me. She even hid who her husband was from me—her greatest act of deception yet—to use him to attack me if ever pushed to prove her love--likely the reason she still slept with him.

A few days later, a notice came in the mail--the temporary restraining order was denied pending a hearing. It seemed suspicious, based on the description of abuse, there would even be a hearing. If they denied it based on a lack of evidence then where was the threat to her safety? I could understand if I had been arrested on suspicion of stalking or a threat of physical violence but there was nothing here but an ex-lovers quarrel. Did the court consider she may have provoked my reaction? It just seemed strange to have an argument so weak like “he’s writing a book about me”, a hearing would even be considered. I’ve heard of people outside the homes of celebrities who never received restraining order hearings—this didn’t feel right at all. The denial of the restraining order by the court until a hearing gave me three days to consider a response—Jackson had to be behind this as much as Anya.

To say I wasn’t upset with Anya about threatening me with a restraining order would be the greatest understatement ever uttered. After all this woman allowed and encouraged me to feel without telling me she ultimately put the decision to be with me in the hands of others drove me beyond the gates of hell. Her misrepresentations leaving me to rot left me bent on setting the record straight. People could call it revenge, vengeance, getting even but this was beyond that. This was about intentionally destroying a man’s life with lies that brought him to fight so much for a love that apparently never truly existed but in the mind of a narcissist. I wanted to put the blame solely on Jackson—to believe HE was the one behind this, but there was no denying Anya was the one who willingly pulled the trigger to protect the family name she never told me meant the world to her.

Grabbing an envelope, I placed the heart pendant, and a brief note to Jackson inside, telling him to return this to his wife for me. Before mailing it though, I presented Anya with one last chance to right this wrong by apologizing. When she continued to dodge any responsibility for sending me the heart pendant, and the mess she left my life in with her dishonesty, she left me no other option but to purge her love from my heart. It’s the last thing I ever wanted to do, never even a subconscious thought until now, but it was time to return all she ever used to manipulate my emotions with. If the heart pendant was meaningless, then everything she ever gave me had to be as well. There was no denying what this final act would mean—losing all I ever believed in forever.

I then wrote her an email, titling it “My Final Communication” in the subject line. There would be no more letters from me.

MY FINAL COMMUNICATION

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Kiddo,

Just to check with you for clarity doesn’t there have to actually be a threat of violence for there to be a case made for a domestic violence restraining order? I don’t think they are just handing those out anymore. The ridiculousness of it only goes to show you how much of a control freak you really are. Those damn Capricorns.

For the last 2 years I’ve waited for a moment of clarity when the smoke cleared from our hostile ending so I could better understand why things ended the way they did. After a year of blaming myself for pretty much everything, I took the very painful step of realizing you weren’t really in love with me at all—you were just in love with the idea of being in love again, so in an effort to learn this hard truth, I wrote you a letter requesting my necklace back based on certain conditions if your love were true. I finally find the strength to move on and let you go, things you wanted, and you send me a heart pendant of all things—a heart clearly attached to a bag I never gave you. So instead of being angry about it, I decided to be a gentleman and ask you a few months down the road, when my feelings were in check, to meet me so we could talk about it, if you wanted to. I thought that would be fair if you wanted to say something to me in case you didn’t want to memorialize it in a letter that may get back to your husband. It was very clear in that letter I sent you in late March that I wanted to know the meaning behind the heart pendant, if there was one. I then get a letter back from you that cruelly declined. I will never understand why you wouldn’t just tell me about the heart pendant in that letter to me so the other letter I sent, including this email, could’ve totally been avoided, but I guess kindness and consideration is no longer in your nature.

I tried to let this go. The universe knows I have but our ending just never sat well with me. What you did that day was as chicken shit as chicken shit gets. My family. Landyn is trying to hurt my family. Landyn is trying to hurt my kids. Right. That’s exactly what I was trying to do. Hurt kids and destroy your family. That’s the very reason why I agreed to start seeing you. It’s also the biggest lie anyone could ever tell and that story is something that doesn’t fly well with me. When I first met you, I told you clearly “I didn’t want to get hurt” and “money scares me”. Not that we wouldn’t be okay financially but because money appeared to be your be all, end all—now I’ve learned it always was. Money makes everything right side up and perfect for Anya and her family. Let’s face it, I knew the first night I met you, that you were all about money. Who would still sleep with a man who has cheated on them multiple times? The truth is Shithead could fuck an orangutan, bring you back the Ebola virus and you’d still stay. And why Anya? So a three year old who doesn’t even know what a horse is, could have one? Let’s be honest. You’re all about money, not about love. Love was always optional and viewed as a luxury, never a necessity because it’s irrational and unrealistic to you. To you, and everyone else you have made friends with because of money.

The problem I have with you is simply this—you lied to me about who you were. You lied to me about how you truly felt about his infidelities. You lied to me about who would decide if we’re together—something you certainly were never in control of. And the biggest crime of all? You put a spin on the words “I love you”. It’s comical how you can hold me to my “big boy” comment but I could never hold you to anything you said like “Kids are resilient” and “Nothing is impossible” or even “I love you”. That all because you’re a woman, you have the right to change your mind without consequence and as the man I should have to accept that or lose my nobility. I was only “Your Landyn” as long as I gave you the best of both worlds, and let me tell you something, that is not love. That is not being in love. It’s a cop-out and I had EVERY right in the world to question it. You had no right to fight me on it, and yes, I am a “victim” of your love. I still am—a love born of narcissism, but disguised as empathy. Love would never allow me to feel the way I do, let alone feeling the need to write and send you this email. Love would never put me in the position to feel as if I was asking you to break up a family or to hurt your kids especially based on what you told me about him and your unhappiness with the marriage. Love would want me to know Andrew and Katie one day, and not feel like a creep whenever I see them, which fortunately has been only once. Most importantly, above all, love doesn’t transfer one’s unhappiness to another the way you transferred yours to me. Don’t you dare say I wasn’t patient—a year was more than enough time for you to know and based off of your “I need you to sweep me off my feet” requirement, it shouldn’t have taken that long if you were in love with me. You put me on a “10 year to never” plan after encouraging and allowing me to fall deeply in love with you. That alone should warrant an apology from you along with putting my fate, my entire life and an adult decision in the hands of a 10 and 12 year old at the time. How could you ever blame me for questioning your true intentions?

So, I’ll tell you what, go ahead and call the National Guard or have a SEALS team come invade my residence. Hell, why don’t you send this to ‘Our lawyer” if that will make you feel better as well because at this point, quite frankly, I don’t give a shit. And I could care less if you think I’m noble or not anymore—your definition of nobility is skewed and you do not deserve an ounce of nobility from me for the manner in which you’ve made a mockery of my heart and all I believed in. You’re not the Queen of England, kiddo, and you have no right to judge me whatsoever based on what you married. Furthermore, I don’t give a fuck what kind of man you think I am—you no longer validate that for me anymore. But in case you didn’t know, I’m the kind of man who doesn’t let control freaks, who think they are above others, take advantage of them. If you try to hurt me in any way, you will deal with me, and if you don’t like it, tough shit. I’m not a violent man by any stretch of your imagination, but I will tell you how I feel—you can count on that. That’s called integrity. That’s how trust and character is built. But those are things you don’t know anything about because you married a man without any of those traits so they’re scary to you.

All you had to do was show me a little class after my letter. Write me something as simple as “You know what, Landyn. I think you’re right. I’m sorry for putting you through that. It wasn’t fair or right” and then the Landyn you’re getting right now wouldn’t exist, but if you want to be disrespectful, then it will be met with disrespect. If you can’t be honorable after sending me a meaningless heart pendant to try to manipulate my feelings one last time, then neither can I. You put my heart through the ringer and you owe me a detailed apology for doing so. The one thing you never do in life, and I hope you teach your kids this, is to never encourage someone to fall deeply in love with you knowing the decision to be with him would be in the hands of others. There’s no doubt you knew from day one what you planned to do. It was deliberate and malicious—all to feed your ego. You know it’s true and that’s why you run like a scared cat. You accuse me of harassment but you’ve harassed my heart for 2 years and I’ll be damned if you’re not going to pay for it in some way—choosing a man who has been screwed over by girls one too many times. This will be the last time a girl makes a mockery of my heart and my belief in love. This is by far the worst because not only did you break my heart but you’re also trying to portray me as wanting to break up a family and hurt your kids—kids you allowed me to grow fond of. It’s beyond fucked up and it’s time you face the music. It’s not even about you staying, Anya. I have no choice but to care less. It’s not even about you not being in love with me. You have that right, and you’ve killed all the beauty I ever saw in you. This is about an assassination attempt on my character, and it’s something I will go to war with you on—no way will people with no character make me out to be the bad guy. You can protect the Caiaphas name all you want, but you know it only stands for using people to keep a family together and not what a family should stand for—the true honor in the Caiaphas family name you work so hard to protect.

You want me to respect your wishes? How funny you never respected mine yet you have the audacity to demand this from me. Did you respect me enough to tell me you still slept with your husband before you encouraged me to fall in love with you and after all you told me about how you felt about him? Oh, that’s right, you would’ve never been able to have privacy when having sex with another man in your life if you’ve told me that. Did you respect me enough to tell me “we mothers sacrifice our happiness for our kids” before encouraging me to fall in love with you? Did you respect my feelings by leaving your decision in the hands of others after loving me with your “heart and soul” or your “everything”? Now you want me to respect your wishes, and if I don’t, you will threaten me with an RO? At least you now know why my “threats” to tell existed. It’s funny how threats manifest themselves whenever someone feels a lack of respect—now you get the picture yet I never said you were abusing, threatening or harassing me after allowing and encouraging me to be in love with someone who would abandon me because she let others decide my fate. How could you have ever gotten mad at me for questioning your intentions if the truth about us would lead you to taking this kind of action against me? I had every right to question your “love”.

You betrayed yourself, Anya—your car accident only proves that. You and Shithead both betray your kids everyday if you truly believe money and things lead to happiness. Katie and Andrew should do well in school, to do well in school, like most kids and not because you have the means to reward them with more than other parents. Money can buy them good grades, but it will never be able to buy them the world’s fairness.

I stood up for you. I defended you at every turn. I lost friends over you. I put your needs above my own. I lost my job. I was out of work for 10 months struggling to get over you. I had to seek counseling. I was on Zoloft for 8 months. I’ve gone through as much, if not much more, emotional distress as you, therefore maybe I should be the one filing a domestic violence restraining order against you. I find it ironic, the accident that has left you in chronic pain, depressed, heavily medicated, unable to work out, overweight, and unable to leave the house matched the very description of my own life the day you broke my heart. Not to mention, you sent a guy in the past, you were once engaged to, packing for Shithead. You had a “stalker” in your life one time before, who I’m sure you must have hurt pretty bad to define him as such. In addition, I’m certain you hurt Lance the same way you hurt me, if he felt strongly enough to describe the ending of his relationship with you as “tragic”. Without a doubt, he probably heard the “my kids” excuse too. I guess in hindsight, it’s fitting that you’re in chronic pain after all the pain you have brought to others. Funny how people who place a premium on beauty and vanity will now be judged for it. I guess it’s God’s way, if He exists, of evening things out, wouldn’t you say? I guess there’s some justice in this world after all. I think what makes it sweeter for me, were all the times I told you to be true to yourself, and you never listened to me. All the times you accused me of hurting you when I was only trying to help you. All the times I told you that you were important and mattered too. Now, it’s only a matter of time before the wonderful ambitious man you married will cheat on you once again, if it hasn’t happened already. What will make it even sweeter is when the kids find out who Dad really is and how much his wife, and their mother, sacrificed so they could have things that truly won’t bring them happiness in this life. I’m certain if he cheated on a healthy and beautiful pregnant wife, he’d cheat on an unhealthy overweight one someday too. And, it will be even easier for him this time around because now he can take advantage of your physical pain to do so. Not that I wish you any further pain or suffering because I know you only want the best for me in life and that’s why you couldn’t simply give me a detailed apology for the wrong you’ve done.

I guess women don’t change their minds, do they Anya? That’s okay though because now I know the ones who feel they can without consequence will now know better to respect the feelings of others and to be true to their words. To know that people who feel love, and who want to feel loved, also don’t want to be someone’s dirty secret. I believe people who feel they have the right to change their mind frequently, without any regard or consideration to how that might affect others are called liars, in case you didn’t know. If you truly wished me the very best in life, you would’ve recognized your faults (the way I always have), and apologized for them in detail so I could get much needed closure you denied me for reasons only the Universe knows. Sad to know I really did care about you and thought I knew you better than anyone. The truth is I have no idea who you are or were. The most disappointing thing for me was learning you’re just like every other attractive woman here in southern California who’s obsessed with money and vanity. Now knowing that, you’re a dime a dozen, nothing special and you’re just like every other woman out there, even the ones I’ve met before you. That makes it much easier for me to move on now.

Since there will apparently be no apology. I will state, for the record, your inconsideration of my feelings will not yield an ounce of violence from me unless in self defense and believe me I’m ready for all the ones who are after my “blood”. Your inconsideration however will yield a true revealing of who you and Jackson really are. It’s my gift for all the pain you put me and others through and now no one will be safe from the truth of who you and him really are because you chose this option opening the floodgates. This is unfortunately what happens, when you fuck over good people in life.

Oh, and have a nice life. I wish you the best.

Feeling agitated, I downed another Vicodin before copying my words over to the body of an email. There was hesitancy in clicking send, but putting this master plan in motion to eradicate Anya from my heart required me doing so. Still, I wasn't ready to commit this true act of suicide. With her love leaving me wasting away from the inside out--it felt intentional. I’m not saying she never loved me; she did threaten Jackson with divorce, but she never made me feel like the cure—only the disease. There was no reason to question my sanity anymore, whatever what was left of a sound mind had now become unsound. She believed she was doing the right thing by meeting me in San Diego but after missing her, she then believed it was wrong. Yet she still believed it was right and just to leave the decision to be with me to her kids, family and Jackson because she didn't want to hurt anyone. Apparently, she only wanted to hurt me. Her seeking the restraining order against a man she greatly wronged could only be viewed as an act of demonic proportions. Wronging me on this level wasn’t even the worst part—the fact she was unapologetic about a single thing was.

Before throwing my finger’s weight to right click, my bedroom beckoned me to take inventory of the life she gave me. The alarm clock that woke me up for the last three years since. Her two perfume bottles, reminders of her scent in the air, still at ease on my dresser. The black bra she left behind making sure she was always on my mind. The numerous CD’s she burned me, stacked up next to the iPod she bought me for Christmas, my way of staying in touch with the love we felt. The cards and shopping bags that always brought a smile to my face left me remembering her thoughtfulness at times I desperately needed it. The four "Twilight" series books leaning on each other in my bookcase, just like us during the times we needed a respite from the torture of being apart. Our beach towels, neatly folded on the seat of a chair providing the evidence “our beach” was more than real. All these things that carried so much beauty and warmth now became weapons of mass destruction—meant to not show love but to control me, to keep me off guard—the tools used to get what she needed from me, without any regard to what I needed from her.

Spotting an empty box, one previously used for moving, the plot to my demise began taking shape---printing out a special message on a white sheet of letter sized paper, using a bold thirty-six font to get it across, then taping it to the inside bottom of the box. If the heart pendant was meaningless, then everything she ever gave me had to be also. A gathering of all her weapons took place before tossing all the meaningless nothings into the box--like it was a boiling pot of stew. Even adding for good measure, a book I purchased titled “The Good Divorce”, in case the recipients did the honorable thing after their marriage had hurt another person’s life. These were far from honorable people though, so it would probably be viewed as further evidence of harassment—like sending me a meaningless heart pendant was. After sealing the box with duck, I mean duct tape, I jumped on the internet to determine the date of delivery, inadvertently learning of a day of special significance to Jackson. After shutting down the computer armed with this new information, I loaded the box into my car and headed over to a nearby Hallmark gift shop to have the box gift wrapped for his upcoming birthday.

Jackson undoubtedly pressured Anya into filing the restraining order against me, falsely claiming that our relationship was an act of not loving her children—the greatest lie ever told. If Jackson had never disrespected Anya’s heart, this package would never be sent directly to him. This pain would be all on me for deciding to pursue a relationship with a good man’s wife. Jackson was not a good man and his status as a good father was questionable at times due to his lack of participation in his children's lives. And I was certain Anya had feelings for me—she couldn’t fake all she felt. But her love was only meant to cause me harm if she'd never be brave enough to listen to and trust the man she loved. The hardest part was knowing Anya had no respect for my heart—that she saw me no different as any other man she ever met after leading me to believe that wasn’t true. As I took another Vicodin, the good times became unretrievable after her disrespectful letter—one only her husband deserved.

Once inside the store, with my arms wrapped around a box caring the remains of my heart, a tall thin dark-haired man of middle eastern descent greeted me from behind the counter.

“Hello there. Can I help you, Sir?” he asked, his eyes fixated on the container in my arms.

“Indeed.” I replied, placing the nearly thirty-pound box on the counter. “I’d like to get this giftwrapped, please. How much will it cost?”

“Oh, this box?” he inquired, surveilling it.

“Yes…it’s my friend’s birthday tomorrow.” I told him, smirking. “I need to get it wrapped and shipped over to him today.”

“It will be about eighty to eighty-five dollars to wrap this for you.” He answered, his eyes looking into mine with apprehension—or maybe it was the guilt I began feeling.

“Really? Eighty-five dollars?” I retorted, astonished at the price.

“Yes.” He countered, without a counter offer. “It’ll look really nice.”

The box was both tall, dense and like Anya’s love needed to be disguised so no one knew it came from me but from a family member. Although hardly having enough money to eat on these days, a night without dinner was worth the price.

“Okay, let’s do it.” I confirmed, nodding. “How long will it take?”

“Forty-five minutes. I make good for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh…wow.” he blurted upon lifting the box off the counter. “That’s pretty heavy.”

“There’s quite the gift inside.” I remarked, proudly. “A very special gift.”

“Who is it for?”

“It’s for a very special friend—his name is Jackson.”

“Wowser!” He exclaimed, moving the box along the floor as the items moved noisily within it. “What did you get him?”

“Oh, a few different things.” I informed him, fighting back my laughter. “To be honest, someone else bought these things for him and threw them in there—I’ll be just as surprised as him when he opens it tomorrow.”

“Well, it looks like Mr. Jackson will be very surprised!”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” I dryly replied, a smile forming on my face.

With step one of my plan in progress, step two was the greater obstacle—how do I get this box carrying the remains of my shattered heart delivered? This birthday gift had to come from someone he knew, but who were his family members? Would one of his lessees ever consider getting him a gift for his birthday? Would a particular auditor, who he helped get a discount on a Rolex watch, send him something for his birthday? By disguising the gifter as a member from my old CPA firm, it would take care of three people who wronged me instead of only two. Would one of his fellow politicians do such a thing? How would I know who he associated with? It probably wouldn’t make it to his doorstep—a duplicate gift giving it away. One thing was certain, anyone I chose only cared about the almighty dollar anyway.

My only reservation was Katie and Andrew bearing witness to this trojan horse of mine. How this box containing the shards of my heart could affect them. We were all in the same boat—innocent, trusting and unsuspecting parties who had fallen prey to the greatest lie going. My thoughts then shifted to the things money could never buy—that the greatest lessons they will ever learn in life would never come from a textbook. A part of me believed they needed to see this to maybe save their own marriages one day—to see the danger in living a dishonest life. That even when they remain unseen, choices had consequences. As angry as Anya and Jackson made me, it just wasn’t my call to make, preferring they learn the truth from their parents, not from me. As badly as Anya wronged me, there’s no way to justify being their informant. But they both had to know pursuing a restraining order was not a good idea if they planned to hide this from them. I could be wrong, I’ve never been in such a scenario, but it seemed they’d learn mom was in a relationship with a man who wasn’t their father this way. As badly as I wanted the world to know about our love, hating only being good enough to be her secret, I hoped her kids remained in the dark. They likely thought they were protecting Katie and Andrew with this restraining order, but it was only putting themselves out there to learn things that should remain private until they were older.

While having fantasies about him opening his gift in front of others, it likely would only be added to a pile then opened after everyone went home--my true preference. Although I’m sure he turned his birthday into an event each year, I wanted to bring an awareness to him—to know the only reason Anya left me was because she was forced—not because she wanted to leave as evidenced each time she ever tried to. As much as being a secret despised me, this wasn’t about exposing this to the world—only to his world. It now seemed Anya used these items in the box to get what she wanted and needed from me—gifted to me not solely from love but to manipulate my emotions. Like a rape victim, she never had my consent to pursue a relationship with me while allowing the decision to never escape the influence of Jackson and others. All she required from me was to be there for her if she were to leave and to sweep her off her feet—that was the deal. Any alterations were an act of betrayal, especially pitting her happiness and mine against the happiness of her kids. I had no doubt she felt something very similar to love but with it being on terms of her own, even having a million soulmates in her lifetime was possible—why I’m absolutely convinced there could only be one. The fact she denied me a sincere apology after she changed my life forever with her love was beyond unconscionable to me. The ego involved, likely knowing she’d use her husband and the people she knew to further wreck my life, one she had already wrecked, spoke volumes about who Anya truly was as a person—someone I made millions of excuses for. This is where my thoughts have arrived—she didn’t respect others at all. I’m sure she felt wronged by me, but she needs to go back to December 2007 to understand how she could never feel like the victim. There was only one true victim here and unfortunately, it was me. Anya’s love was a matador, allowing and encouraging me to charge at her before pulling away the sheet to leave me in the position to run over her children, her family.

Every partner Anya and Jackson ever utilized over the course of their marriage, had always just gone away broken into that goodnight. That just wasn’t me and something I couldn’t do after all she allowed and encouraged me to know and feel. My exposed heart may have been worthy of her amusement and disrespect but would never be played with. She led me to believe her marriage was beyond repair, trusting that with no inhibitions. Anya could have her marriage and Jackson could have it, too—but it would be under the umbrella of truth and no longer under the cloud of deception. Their marriage never gave them a license to ruin the lives of others who cared for them. There was nothing sacred about it in my eyes, not after walking away then being told I broke her heart. And especially not after being the second guy in her life. There were consequences for hijacking a plane and there were consequences for hijacking my heart.

While Jackson’s birthday gift was being primed for delivery, I dropped the envelope addressed to Jackson’s work, with the heart pendant inside, into a mail box just outside the store—it seemed more likely to be intercepted at his house. I then went back inside the Hallmark store to pick up the gift wrapped box—the store clerk did a magnificent job disguising it as a real present. After buying a card to add to its legitimacy and signing it as being from Kevin Kash and the partners at KSR, I dropped it off at the UPS store for one day delivery—he’d have it on the same day of his birthday.

After watching them take the package, affix the necessary labels then bringiong it to the back for shipping, there was now no turning back. There was no joy felt, no feeling of satisfaction—just the feeling of being in control of something again—even if it was my own destruction. I hated her for loving me while handing her power to leave over to others—she never had my consent to do that--the last thing needed was more heartache in a life full of it. I walked away for a real reason, not because I didn’t like her, but because I did. I trusted she always held the decision-making power to leave and wasn’t something she’d simply hand off to others. And I could still question her true intentions to ever leave, regardless of if she threatened Jackson with divorce--only using me as leverage because she never saw me as the solution, but rather the disease she needed time to clear her head of. At the time I needed her love the most, it abandoned me because she could no longer hide behind its lie. Even my poor mother, who was battling Cancer, and I were at odds with each other while this broken heart of mine took precedence. Believing in love too much for my own good had left me beyond desperate. The time had come to destroy myself, to purge this parasite Anya’s love had become, from my soul--to reinvent myself like Debbie had done. After returning home, my finger found the temerity to right-click, initiating the send button on "My Final Communication" email. The purest act of atrial suicide ever committed—officially ending the dream forever, and now awaiting the fallout to come.