Until And Do Us Part Literally Ch 01

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Love at first sight, dressed all in blue with a gold badge on his chest, Susan meets the man of her dreams.

Thinking back while warming my hands with my hot coffee cup, needing to write this story for my sanity, I wrote this story as if it was all a bad dream instead of a perfect love affair. With it all happening ten, long years ago, sometimes it feels as if it all happened yesterday. Memories that are sometimes hard to forget, from time to time they haunt me by giving me bad dreams and nightmares.

The first time I saw Robert or Bobby, as he liked to be called, as if I was seeing a rainbow shining just for me or witnessing a personal miracle, it was love at first sight for me. Never have I felt as happy. Never have I been as excited. Never have I felt as alive, so positive, so energetic, and so hopeful that my life had finally turned the corner for the better.

In the way I looked at my life, after experiencing so much pain and suffering sorrow, seeing him was as if I was born again. Seeing him was as if he was my hero, my white knight in shining armor, and my salvation all rolled into one. Instantly forgetting about all of the bad things that happened in my past, I was in love. Indeed it was a miracle for me to trust another man never mind to fall in love with another man. Only with me putting so very much of my expectations on him, maybe I had doomed our romance before it even began.

Unfortunately, in the way of disappearing cigarette smoke, love is fleeting. Now that I think back, with my eyes wide open and no longer blinded by love, I don't think it was love at first sight for him. Now that I really know him or think that I know him, I'll never know the real him. Now knowing him for the cad that he is, I seriously doubt if it was love at first sight for him. With him just using me and possessing me, with him showing me off to his friends, he wore me as I was a piece of jewelry. It took me years to understand that a man like him can't love anything or anyone but himself.

A man like him doesn't know the meaning of love. A man like him is without feelings. A man like him doesn't feel remorse or guilt, only pleasure. If something didn't affect him directly, he had the shortened memory of a dog. With him never apologizing for what he did to me, no doubt feeling that I deserved his slaps, his punches, and his kicks, he's not sorry for the beatings he gave me. He never apologized for shoving me down the cellar stairs and leaving me there unconscious and for dead.

With him able to detach his emotions, as if removing his batteries, a man like him doesn't have attachments. I know now that an attachment, unnecessary baggage, was all that I was to him. I was something he could stand in a corner when done playing with me and when I was finished entertaining him with my hand, my mouth, and my pussy. With him having sex with whores all over the world, I was just another whore to him. The only difference between being his whore and being his wife, I had his ring on my finger and his last name taken as my last name.

For him to withstand the physical pain he's endured when fighting in a ring and, later, the torture he survived as a prisoner of war, a man like him doesn't feel physical pain, never mind the emotional pain of a love lost. A man like him doesn't feel anything for anyone but for himself. His personal palette is simple. Eyes front in real time, not giving any thoughts to the future, never mind the past, it's just what he feels right here and right now. Instead of a man, trained to perfection, he's closer to a machine, the perfect fighting and killing machine.

* * * * *

I remember watching a movie, Michael Mann's Heat with Robert De Niro as Neil McCauley and Al Pacino as Los Angeles Police Lieutenant Vincent Hanna. It's a great movie. If you haven't seen the movie, just as I highly recommend Scorsese's movie Casino with De Niro, Sharon Stone, and Joe Pesci, I highly recommend both of those movie. Anyway, there was something in the movie Heat that De Niro's character, Neil McCauley said over a cup of coffee in a diner when talking to Al Pacino, as Lt. Hanna, that stayed with me. The character that De Niro played reminded me of my ex-husband.

Not really registering with me before but when I heard what De Niro said again years later after my divorce, when watching the movie again, it was something my ex-husband could have said and may have said for all that I know. Finally, after years of wondering what I did wrong, it was then that I understood that I didn't do anything wrong. Except for me being in love and for the expectations that I put upon him, it was then that I realized that everything that was wrong with our marriage was his fault. It was then that I truly understood who he was. No reasoning with him, as if a Pit bull with a bone, he was a psychopath trying to act normal while playing the part of a policemen.

Even though he was there with me physically, he was never there with me emotionally. As if De Niro had stolen my ex-husband's line and my ex-husband's character, I could see my ex-husband playing that role and fleeing the country when he felt the heat. With him still having his CIA credentials and passports, able to disappear in thin air, he could travel anywhere at any time. Whether serving in the military in special ops, called to do a mission for the CIA, working for the Boston Police as an undercover operative, or doing something illegal for a mob boss, doing what he had to do, he was still a stone cold killer.

"A guy told me one time," said De Niro as McCauley. "Don't let yourself get attached to anything you are not willing to walk out on in 30 seconds flat if you feel the heat around the corner. Now, if you're on me and you gotta move when I move, how do you expect to keep a marriage?"

He was referring to Al Pacino's character, Lt. Hanna's third marriage going down the toilet. In the way that De Niro's character hit home with my ex-husband, he could have been referring to my ex and to our marriage. If I had known before what I know now, I never would have married him. Only at the time, vulnerable and ready for love, I thought he was the one.

With my internal clock ticking, I wanted to start a family. I wanted a baby. Foolishly, a typical dumb blonde, I thought he loved me as much as I loved him. Only, he didn't love me. Incapable of love, he couldn't love me. With him having something seriously wrong with him, he was more damaged than I could ever be. It was then that I understood my attraction to him. With him being just as fucked up as I was, we had that in common.

* * * * *

Wow, insightfully eye opening, it was then that I realized my ex-husband's philosophy of life. He confessed to me some of the really bad things, criminal things, and God awful things he's done as an Army Ranger in a war zone, a CIA operative on a mission, as undercover police officer, and as a hit man for the mob. Kill or be killed.

"Don't be a victim. Never get in a car. Never let anyone take you anywhere. Do you understand what I'm saying to you? You must make your stand right where you are. When confronted by someone out to hurt you, you must be just as crazed as they are," he said.

"Okay, I get it. Don't worry. I'm just going to the mall," I said.

Only, he was serious and I wasn't. He knew better and I didn't. He insisted on teaching me some things on how to defend myself. Better than the average helpless woman, I was no match for him. He was as quick with his hands as he was with his feet.

"Dead or alive, with a knife or a bullet traveling faster than you can think, it's in that one split second of doubt, that deadly pause, that has you testifying before Internal Affairs for a justified shooting or has your widow shopping for a casket. I'd rather error on my side than on their side. Being that they're all criminals and scum, if I don't take them out, someone else will," he said with anger.

He looked at me as if he was a professor done lecturing me.

"Calm down Bobby. Here, have a drink," I said pouring him a stiff one.

He was always angry in the way that I used to always be in a rage before I had therapy. He needed to talk to someone but someone like him would never see a shrink unless forced to see a shrink by his captain. Someone like him needed to remain angry to do his job. Yet, a good mixed with all that happened to him in the past enraging him and with his training in Judo relaxing him, he was more balanced the most men.

"What does it matter? In the end, I'm just doing my job," he said with a shrug and softening in his demeanor and lowering his voice to a quiet whisper. "I'm just doing what I was hired to do, to keep you and everyone else safe. If it wasn't for men like me, they're be chaos."

Just as Robert De Niro said in that movie, Heat, if my ex felt the heat around the corner, just like in that car theft movie, Gone in 60 Seconds, never looking back, he'd be gone in 30 seconds rather than to go to prison for life. Leaving me behind, he wouldn't give me a second thought. Heat, by the way, was his all-time favorite movie, along with Deadwood, both violent movies, death and destruction was the way he lived his life.

* * * * *

Seemingly at the time, in the way he looked at me, couldn't take his eyes off of me, I thought it was love at first sight for him too. Certainly in the way he held me and kissed me, having never been kissed like that before, I thought he loved me...to death. Our match made in Heaven, I thought we'd be together for the rest of our lives instead of just three years.

"Until death do us part," is what I said when I married him.

I took the traditional vows instead of writing my own. With me a writer, I wanted to write my own vows but thinking more of his feelings, I didn't want to pressure him to write something that he didn't mean and something he didn't feel. A man of little words, he'd rather punch someone in the face and/or kill them and be done with them than to have words or an argument with them.

I've seen him in a bar fight when he overheard a man commenting on my ass. His hands and feet are faster than most people can speak. As if he was Jason Bourne in Bourne Identity when he disabled those two Swiss policemen when they rousted him from a bench in the park, he wasn't a man to anger. With three quick tap, tap, tap blows, one to the face, one to the neck, and one to the stomach, the fight was over. With him just flicking out his hands and not even reaching back to hit the man with a haymaker, most of the patrons didn't even know there was a fight. If nothing else, my ex was my inspiration for writing my story, The Retired Marine and the Bag Lady. Scary bad, I've never seen anyone handle themselves in the way my ex could.

When with him, I felt safe. When with him, I felt protected. Only, my safety was limited to me staying with him. As soon as I told him that I was leaving and filing for divorce, I was no longer safe from him. For me to feel safe, in the way that he could be gone in 30 seconds, after he signed the divorce papers and I left him, I needed to disappear.

When things weren't navy blue with a gold badge on his chest, things were black and white. There were no grey areas with him. Either you were good or you were bad. With him having surviving a bad childhood too, boo-hoo, he didn't care about what happened to you in your childhood for you to act out and for you to be like the way you are. He was the judge, the jury, and the executioner all rolled into one.

Following his orders to the letter, a personal extension of the United States military, the best military in the world, he was the essence of the perfect soldier. Retired from active duty, he was now a modern day Rambo hidden in plain sight as a Boston policeman. Volunteering for the jobs that no one else wanted, he was the one they called to take care of things and to clean up their messes. After a while, able to see the transformation in his eyes, even those messes got to him. After a while, no longer the good man he was, as broken as I was when his past overcame his present, he was just going through the motions of going through life while pretending that he cared when he didn't and couldn't.

Unfortunately for him but fortunately for me, he didn't have years of therapy in the way that I had. After a while, not only did he not care for me but also he didn't even care about himself and his own safety. After a while with everything in his life meaningless and unimportant but for his job, he didn't care about anything. He was like Mel Gibson when he played Martin Riggs, a suicidal cop, in Lethal Weapon.

Just as he was desensitized to all things living, he was desensitized to death too. With him wearing his bulletproof vest and carrying his three guns, two knives, SAP gloves, expandable baton, brass knuckles, blackjack, and with a shotgun and an assault rifle in his trunk, a virtual arsenal of death, he felt invincible. Not wasting the time nor the energy, he didn't reflect on his past or think about his future. His world was only about today and what he had to do now.

"If you don't have order, you have chaos," he liked saying. "I much prefer having order to chaos. I don't like it when things are a mess," he said not realizing what a mess his life was.

Until death do we part? Well, now he's gone, gone for good, and I'm still here. I'm not dead. Even though he could have killed me, he didn't kill me. With me still alive and kicking, had I stayed with him, no doubt about it, I'd be dead. After all he had confessed to me about some of the things he's done, I was a loose end. I was his chaos. I was evidence to his mess. Gone in 30 seconds is how long it would have taken him to murder me, perhaps a little longer to dispose of my body.

* * * * *

Right from the first time he saw me, he seemed smitten with me. Before he even professed his love, I suspected he loved me. Even though he didn't have to tell me he did, he told me he did with his eyes, with his attentiveness, and with his kiss. He listened to me as if I was the only woman in the world. His kisses made me feel that he loved me, truly loved me.

In the way he looked at me, he made me feel that he adored me. A generous lover, when we made love to me, when his cock was buried deep inside of me, just in the way he made love to me, I was certain that he loved me. How could something that felt so right be so wrong? How could someone deceive me for so long? How could I love someone who didn't love me?

Yet in the way he was able to hide his true feelings, in hindsight, I never knew who he was. With him in his own world or law and order and right and wrong, I never knew what he was feeling and/or what he was thinking. He was an enigma. With the wool pulled tightly over my eyes and with him definitely a wolf in sheep's clothing, he had me fooled. I was so naïve. I was such a sucker.

Sadly and still painful for me to even write this, he had a vasectomy just before he married me. He didn't tell me he was having a vasectomy. His decision, apparently he didn't think it was my business to even discuss it. I wondered what he'd have to say about my own body if I wanted to have an abortion, which I'd never have, or if I wanted to keep the baby when he didn't. He having a vasectomy without consulting me wasn't right.

After the terrible childhood I had, he knew I wanted children. He knew that I wanted to right the wrongs of my childhood with my own children. Only, he took that right away from me by denying me a child. Just because he lost his faith in mankind and was tired of living didn't mean that I had too.

Even though he knew he couldn't father a child, we tried to have children for years. Night and day, week after week, and month after month, he pounded my pussy while telling me how much he wanted to give me a baby. He told me all of the names he wanted to name his son. He made me so happy with the thought that he wanted what I wanted. It wasn't until we signed the divorce papers and were sitting across from one another at the lawyer's office that he told me that he had a vasectomy. Spitting my hatred for him in his face, if I had his gun, I would have shot him dead.

To be continued...

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