I have been asked why...

I have been asked why, why are you doing this?  This is, in its simplest form, unloading my feelings about my relationship with Bob over the last 22 years.

In a deeper sense this is about my understanding.  Understanding why I fell in love with Bob.  Understanding why I  chose not to pay attention to the situations that spoke volumes about what the future would bring. Understanding Bobs sick need to play such horrible games with people’s lives.  Understanding my need for Bob to get better, understanding my need for wanting Bob to have a better life.  Understanding why I didn't listen to doctors much earlier when told Bob was not going to improve, that I should understand he would get worse, much worse.

Last Thursday night I was having dinner at Ivy’s with a group of friends. I was recognized by the first physician Bob and I had in Indianapolis.  He came to the table to ask how I was;  I was with a group of fourteen so I excused myself and moved away from the table to talk.  He put his arms around me and said, "You did everything you could, you know that". I just looked at him, tears welling in my eyes.  He told me he had heard that Bob had skipped town owing a lot of money, he knew about the shoplifting, he knew how seriously ill I had been.  He went back to the time before Bob left in 2008.  I remember the day I sat sobbing in this man’s office because Bob was unraveling again. He told me that day to leave, get out.  He told me that he had refused to see Bob because nothing was going to help him.  Over the year after he stopped seeing this doctor Bob went to at last three different doctors, all discontinued treatment, all for the same reasons. Nothing was going to help, not love, not support, not stability, not caring, not medication, nothing, nothing was going to help Bob.  Everybody saw the seriousness, but I continued on thinking it would get better, it got much worse.

So, when I am asked why I am going over it all again it is because I need closure.  I was told not to expect closure from Bob, which will never happen.   I have asked Bob many times to talk so that we can close our relationship.  He  would only say, “We will someday.”  It is to late now.  I know that Bob thinks everybody else is to blame, he always has.

In putting this to paper I am releasing it,  I am gaining a better understanding of the why and how things came to be.  In the past two weeks I have met some incredible people, people who have suffered through and come out the other side of the manipulation deceit, fear and isolation the sociopath creates.  Its funny, Bob used to repeatedly tell me that nobody liked me, when he left I had maybe five friends on Facebook, today I have I have many.  Those people  like me, enjoy me and count me as a good friend, a well intentioned friend.  When Bob left I had a Twitter account,  now I have three. For the first time in a long time I am me, the guy that got marked and lost his life, his whole life, to a sociopath.

So, when will I stop? I can't answer that, it will end when it ends. This is process, a process I must go through.  I've been told its going to be painful. So far the most painful thing has been the realization and acceptance that the person I loved and knew was incapable of love, was an illusion, a chameleon that changed as he needed to satisfy himself.

Will I ever forget what has happened, no.  Will I ever forgive what has happened, no.  Will I ever be able to tell Bob I love him and hope he has a nice life, no.  Will I ever trust anything Bob has ever told me, no.  I thank everyone who has taken the time to view these entries. For now I will continue, knowing that I will make it to the other side.

This is a wonderful quote from an amazing woman, it is fitting for all that is my world now ...

I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

― Maya Angelou

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Hyper Smash

A Great Blog

I received a nice message from positivagirl at http://datingasociopath.com/2013/05/22/dating-a-female-sociopath/?replytocom=1045#respond


This website is invaluable, it has given me insight and helped me to understand the denial process I was under and the things I dismissed in dealing with my sociopath;


Hi Drewe, I am sorry it has taken me so long to respond. How harsh it is when somebody cruelly rips away your world, and then leaves you with nothing it is so hard to rebuild your life. Do you have friends and family around you for support? Or was that taken away from you too? I am sorry to hear your story, and will add it to the my story page. I just wanted you to know that you are not alone. There are millions of people who have been through the same thing. If nothing else, despite he left you dependent on him, you can at least have peace of mind now. There is no more abuse. From this, there are can only bring healing this is not a reflection on you, or your self worth. I understand PTSD. I was diagnosed severe chronic which took me years to come out of the other side of trauma. That alone can be difficult to cope with.

Morning, thank you so much for the reply.  It is interactions with people who "get it" as my dear friend Jenni White (Director of Adult Services at Coburn Place in Indianapolis) says.

It has been a terrible road to go down.  At first 22 years of "stuff" flooded over me.  I was able to hold it together in the beginning  but over about two months I began to crumble.  I had been isolated from everyone and everything, he made sure of that.  I was completely alone when he left.  I had my first hospital admission in November.  I had five admissions in three months, the last was the most serious.

The losses I am dealing with are difficult.  Of all of the losses, the one that has been the most difficult was the loss of my dogs.  I had the option of sending them to a shelter that would make sure they were safe and I could have them back when I was ready.  The only problem was that they would not guarantee they would be kept together.  I sent them with a "friend" to Louisville who promised to keep them together.  Instead, he lied to me and gave them away  and split them up.  Those animals were my life.

Writing is helping, therapy is helping.  No contact has been a good thing, it has allowed my true feelings to come out.  Finding your blog was a great help, so much, all of what I have read has given me insight and validated the way I feel and the way I have been treated.  It mirrors my life.  Bob knew that.  He posted on Twitter that I was doing it to hurt him, typical sociopath.

I was never worried about my physical safety.  Everyone else was, but not me.  I was fearful when Bob was out of control and psychotic, but in general no.  I think it was, I know it was my denial.  Several months ago I attended a meeting hosted by a man here in Indy that has opened a treatment center for drug abuse and serves those with HIV.  He made a comment that turned on a light in my head.  He said that HIV/AIDS patients function with a distinct level if denial, it is what allows them to function on a daily basis.  It allows them to create as much normalcy in their lives as possible.  I found the comment could 

apply to me, my situation.  My denial allowed me to function while Bob was still in my life.  While it was not optimal functioning and eventually was a negative for me, it kept me on a level of functioning most of the time.  I also was not as adept at recognizing the pathology.  While I was, at time concerned about the anti social aspect of Bob's behavior, I never connected it with being a sociopath.  Perhaps that was my denial also.

Bob took anything and everything that meant anything to me.  He took friends, he did that by playing the victim and painting a dour picture of me so that my relationships would falter.  He took "things" from me.  He took my self worth, my self esteem from me.  I was continually "gaslighted" told I was imagining things, told I was sick and the one with the problems.  I was constantly beaten down by a sick sadistic predator.

I have been fortunate to make friends, but I tread lightly and trust is a huge issue for me at this point.  I am learning to trust my intuition again, if my crazy meter goes off I remove myself and have no contact with people who trigger my uneasiness.  

I am at a critical stage where all of the past is beginning to make sense.  I am replaying the the last 22 years with Bob, it, at times seems so unreal, like a bad movie.  I remember sitting last summer with Bob, he wanted to watch "I love you Phillip Morris."  I sat and watched the film becoming more and more uneasy.  I was watching my relationship with Bob.  A sick sadistic relationship that made me nervous and scared. I remember going to bed that night, looking at Bob, holding my dogs tight and being afraid of the future, afraid of the past, it was all making sense.  I remember the feeling of hopelessness, the feeling of being trapped with someone who was crazy and unstable.  I knew I needed to get out, I didn't know how.  I am now able to look back at that time, that very difficult time, I had doctors and therapists telling me to get out, to save myself.  My denial was still strong and allowed me to function.

I am at a critical stage where the severity of Bob's personality has become clear to me.   A sharp, undistorted, crisp view, I liken it to a beautiful morning with a shimmering blue sky.  That view scares me.  That view puts fear in me, fear for my safety, fear of Bob, fear of Bob's family.  I am not entirely convinced that Bob will not continue to try and harm me.  I maintained contact to make sure he was far away, a safe buffer zone; but again denial played a large part, Bob has lived up to every expectation I had of him, at points I knew, others were quick to see, not me.  I am scared because I understand how twisted the relationship is, or was, and I know from my work that it never truly ends until someone dies.   I hope that is not me.

I had in the beginning I been in contact with The Gay Men's Domestic Violence Project in Boston.  Initially there was concern over my physical safety and plans were discussed to relocate me.  As my physical health deteriorated from stress it was thought best for me to stay near the doctors who were treating me.  I am, again, faced with the prospect of relocation.  My dearest friend lives in Savannah as do others I know, however, Bob is there, making a return to Savannah impossible.  Another case of his allowing me to be alienated from those who care about me.  

I am sure Bob will continue his assault in some way.  The issue is how? I have begun to out him and sociopaths don't like to be outed, it makes them angry.  In outing him I am hoping that my story will reach those he is setting up for victimization now.  He is, as a good sociopath, constantly scoping out empathic people to destroy.  

I hope we can have a dialog, I don't want what has happened to me to happen to another human being, ever!  I know that it will, but if my story is told and others see it and internalize it then someone, even if just one someone can be helped then it has been for good'

I am reminded of a topic we discussed at a meeting to create an action plan for domestic abuse in Indianapolis.  During the afternoon the participants, many from service agencies discussed the "Re-victimization of the victim," I had never thought of the concept. But it is very true and very real as is the trauma.  The difficulty is that the "system" continually re-victimizes the victim and adds to the trauma, until that is fully understood by providers, police, the courts, and the public, victims don't have a chance

Again, thanks for the kind words and concern, it means alot to me. www.hypersmash.com

A Family of Sociopaths.......

In 2003 Bob was arrested in Savannah,  Georgia for soliciting a police officer for sex at a boat ramp on East President at the intracoastal waterway.  This was a notorious hangout for gay men, still is,  I think and is listed on several sites as a pick up place or a place to have sex, out on the trails, sick indeed.

When Bob was arrested the kind officer allowed me to pick up the car Bob drove, which was in my name, so that I would not suffer by having it impounded.  When I arrived to get the car Bob was sitting in the unmarked cruiser, shaking and white as a sheet.  I looked at him with complete and utter disgust.  The officer looked at me with complete understanding, it was if he knew the tortured pain I was feeling.  He took me aside and we talked about what had happened, I didn't want to hear it it made me ill, disgusted.  He, like others told me this behavior never stops.  It hasn't and will never for Bob

For me Bob had committed the unthinkable, a sex crime.  A crime so heinous that I could not even talk to him.  all he kept saying was I'm sorry, I'm sorry.  I did not believe him.  To This day I am sure this was not the first time, to this day I am sure it was happening many years prior, ever since we had moved in together.

I took the car home that day, I was devastated at Bobs behavior.  I was devastated that I had to ask a neighbor for a ride to the Boat Ramp  someone I did not know, someone I did not know had to see this disgusting spectacle.  Someone I didn't know was judging me by the company I kept.

Bob and I had a contract on a home in Bluffton, SC.  That very morning we told the management company we were not going to renew our lease.  That very morning I was at peace, things were good, life was good.  Bob had a new job and I was thrilled.  This changed everything.

Bob spent three days in the Chatham County jail, he would call me hysterical asking me to help him, there was nothing I could do for him.   The issue was that in 2000 Bobs brother, Richard Thomas Hunt, http://www.bustedmugshots.com/georgia/lilburn/clarence-robert-hunt/30532182  was arrested in Gwinnett County Georgia.  When Richard Thomas Hunt was arrested he used Bobs social security number and drivers licsense number.  When Bob was arrested and his background run the police found existing warrants, many of them,  for his brother but it looked as if Bob was the one with the warrants.  Such a nice family.

Roberts https://www.facebook.com/bob.hunt.7524?fref=pb&hc_location=friends_tab father had paid to get Richard out of Gwinnett County Georgia so he would not have to go to jail again, you see the father is as bad as the children.  Well balanced parents would have made sure the child paid his dues for bad behavior.  Not the Hunts, obstruction of justice comes naturally to them. The Hunt Family, is above all things balanced, all social norms (more on that another time).

I was loss for what to do, a loss for how to handle this, another crisis. I called Bobs father and asked him for help.  His initial response was no.  I don't know that I blame him, Bob was definitely a flight risk.  Eventually Bobs dad did post bond for Robert, his bond was $10,000.00  Savannah does not look kindly on sexual predators.

I was still in my codependent mind frame, believing that Bob was acting out because he had been dealt a raw deal.  It never occurred to me that Bob was a sociopath, not until later anyway.

I was in a dreadful place, my friends were horrified and never wanted to see Bob again.  They didn't want their children around him, to them Bob was a sexual predator and potential pedophile.  I now suspect that Bob is probably a pedophile.

In my terrible place I called a friend at the Chatham County Health Department, Sharon Varn,  I was sobbing on the phone.  She immediately came to me with Gene Hall a pastor.  We talked about what had happened and what was best for me at this time.  Both agreed I needed to see a doctor to get on medication to calm me down.  You see, at this stage, the years of stress created from the manufactured drama that was Bob, was beginning to take its toll on me.

The next day I was seen by a great doctor in Savannah, Jeff Schyberg.  He spent a lot of time talking with me about what had happened, he constantly checked on me by phone.  You see, it was clear to everyone else that I had a very sick person, Bob, in my life.  People were, as they have been recently, gravely concerned for my safety.  They were especially scared after seeing me, the shape I was in, battered emotionally and physically.  Bob had beaten me the night he got out of jail when I asked him why he did what he did.  I asked to many questions, I wanted answers, lots of answers.  What I got was a severe beating from Bob.

I stuck very close to Sharon Varn from the health department, Gene Hall and Jeff Schyberg.  Sharon had me speak to a friend of hers who is an episcopal minister (gay) in Thunderbolt, a section of Savannah.  He had been through a similar situation with a partner over the course of many years. His advice was to place a tracking device in the car to monitor Bobs movements. He also told me to get the hell away from Bob.  In my state of denial as to the severity of the problem I scoffed at the idea.  In retrospect I should have done just that.

Eventually Bob would see Jeff Schyberg.  Bob was put on Zyprexa to stabilize his mood.  It helped with the mood and calmed him down. It helped the violent behavior that was emergent.  The drawback for Bob was weight gain.  The drawback was also that co-workers started to tell Bob he didn't need the medication.  A friend of Bob's, a co worker he listened to, Sheila Fortner is to be blamed for Bob not getting the help he  needed at that point.  Sheila had a hold on Bob, a very negative, almost predatory hold and he listened to her.  Sheila still maintains that hold.

Eventually Gene Hall would meet with Bob.  I had hoped that Gene's very kind, concerned demeanor would help Bob and that Gene would be able to penetrate and help Bob see his behavior.  Gene told me that and I quote, "Bob is never going to get it!"  It was everyone's opinion that Bob was not going to take responsibility for anything, anytime.  In my denial I still maintained Bob was a victim, that is what he had always presented to me.  I was sure there was some deep underlying reason for Bobs behavior.  There was but I did not want to face what it was.  I do think deep in my soul I knew.  But I still loved him, not the Bob with abhorrent behavior, but the Bob  that was sweet, loving and kind.  It never occurred to me that this was an illusion, a manufactured self with a deep predatory, sadistic monster living inside.  An individual with no conscience.  An individual with no sense of right or wrong.  An individual with a grand sense of entitlement.

I don't know if Bob was ever arrested again, it is possible that he was and I never found out.  I do know that the attorney who represented him got stuck for the services, Bob never paid him, you see Bob never pays anyone.

Bobs brother Richard  https://www.facebook.com/Rickth1969/about lives in Ohio, where he went when his father shuffled him out of Georgia.  He is "ordained" as a priest in an obscure sect of the catholic church presumably  He is as bad as Bob.

For years Bob would not talk to Richard, he is now friends with him on Facebook.  I often wonder if the father and the two sons and possibly the step mother Patsy Goza Hunt https://www.facebook.com/patsy.g.hunt are a crime ring. 

Today it is still hard for me to look back and see all the times that I should have ended my relationship with Bob.  But every time I would get to a place where I would be ready Bob would charm me and I would stay.  What I find baffling is that he played this game with me for so many years, I think his pathology is so severe that he functions to hurt others.  As long as he could continue to hurt me his game did not have to end.

Today a list of all the people Bob has had contact with has been compiled by the authorities.  It was compiled to protect me, to protect me from someone very unstable, someone who is physically violent.  I remain connected to those who protect me, I have no choice.


HyperSmash.com

There is a great website, http://www.sociopathworld.com  while I was looking around I came across an article about getting the sociopath to leave.  Here is an excerpt:

"The truth is that you and your sociopath have formed a symbiotic relationship. You may think you owe him nothing, but the relationship matters to the sociopath in ways you cannot guess or understand. You may think the sociopath respects your boundaries, but the sociopath will not be sympathetic to your assertions of your needs. The sociopath does not have or respect boundaries. The sociopath has his needs, too, and will fight to make sure that they are met. You do not want to get into an all-out fight with a sociopath when the sociopath feels like his survival is threatened. You will lose.

With a sociopath, the best thing to do is to make the breakup seem like it was his or her choice. Like with ticks or other parasites, you want to poison the well so the sociopath willingly leaves. Become a helpless, emotionless, reactionless burden. Start being contrary, without being openly defiant. If the sociopath likes to go out, develop a preference for staying in. Stop bathing. Focus on work. Pretend you're tired, sick, depressed, say you forgot your keys, you forgot to feed the goldfish, be incompetent but make everything seem like an accident. If the sociopath gets mad, say sorry, but don't fight back. Say "I don't know what's come over me." Have long phone conversations with your mother or other people the sociopath hates. In general, let yourself go completely and be as intolerable to live with as possible without being confrontational. This may seem very passive-aggressive, but after about three months (give or take), the sociopath will be out of your life. You should be in the clear after your sociopath has been gone three to six months. By that time the sociopath will not need you to satisfy any of his basic needs, and will see you instead for what you really are probably a weak-willed whining sissy."

The ironic thing is that this excerpt details my behavior over the last number of years.  In much the same way Bob created my dependencay on him I let him.  I became dependent upon him, but I also didn't feel much emotion towards him in the last stages.. I felt less emotion when I found the masturbation videos he'd been circulating on twitter and facebook and who knows where else. Honestly, who knows how many were made, I'm sure there's more of them in existance.   

I now know that it was this behavior, this sleazy, rauncy behavior was in fact his way of finding a new victim.  He had already decided to leave but knew he had to stay until he had a check from his lawsuit against Value City Furniture (more abouot that later).  He was putting himself out on twitter and other places to find a place to go.

What I find funny is that in his controlling me, my every move, my life he created his own downfall.  You see, he is an emotionless creature and is not capable of empathy.  What he had created was someone who no longer cared, who no longer tried and asked him for help, help he was unable to give because he is incapable of kindness or responsibility.  All he knows is how to suck people in with lies to make them feel sorry for him. 

Once you are in his grasp he will begin the process of bleeding you dry, first money, then emotion and he uses sex as a means of control, witholding it if you anger him and forcing himself if he feels he is no longer in control and has to regain you.  The violence comes as a response to his being challenged.

The more his grasp slips the more unpreditable, violent and manipulative he becomes. 

I happened upon an article in "Psychology Today, "

"Understanding the Sociopath: Cause, Motivation, Relationship" by Seth Myers, Phys.D

Dr. Meyers makes interesting points regarding the sociopath, their functioning and attitude.  For those of us who have been victimized by a sociopath the devastation they cause is horrific, the following is an excerpt from the article:

"Ultimately, the sociopath typically emotionally destroys those who are close to him or her, but the sociopath destroys them in a way consistent with their unique approach to others: They take them out like your average person kills off characters in a video game. Those in the wake of the sociopath suffer because they have the liability sociopaths don't: actual human feelings that stem from a deep sense of social obligations to others, a moral anchor that is supposed to be part and parcel of having relationships.

The sense of entitlement that comes with sociopathy is astonishing to those who abide by the social laws and conventions of our culture. Where does the entitlement come from? It stems from an underlying sense of rage. Sociopaths feel deeply angry and resentful underneath their often-charming exterior, and this rage fuels their sense that they have the right to act out in whichever way they happen to choose at the time. Everything is up for grabs with sociopaths and nothing is off limits.

In relationships, sociopaths are the epitome of Machiavellian creatures. If they were astrological signs, they would be Geminis, with two distinct 'selfs' at work. They are duplicity incarnate, with a polished self shown to the world and a covert, hidden self that has a rigid and calculating agenda: assume the highest level of the social hierarchy and win, win, win. It is often the kindest and most trusting individuals who suffer the most at the hands of sociopaths, and the healing process for these individuals continues long after the relationship has ended. Those in the wake of the sociopath are often left wondering, What happened to me? Why does this one individual have such a powerful effect on me?

In the media, I'm often asked what causes sociopathy. "Are they born this way?" is one of the most frequently asked questions. The truth is that we don't know. Stout (2005) sums up the research well, explaining that as much as 50% percent of the cause of sociopathy can be attributed to heritability, while the remaining percentage is a confusing and not-yet-understood mixture of environmental factors. (Notably, a history ofchildhood abuse among sociopaths is not always present.) Similarly, Ferguson (2010) conducted a meta-analysis and found that 56% of the variance in Antisocial Personality Disorder, the formal disorder of sociopathy, can be explained through genetic influences.

I'm hard-pressed to say that I have vast reservoirs of empathy for the sociopath. At the same time, to see the life trajectory of a sociopath, it's hard to not feel sad that the sociopath has an existence that separates him from the vast majority of 'normal' people. They often end up in prison and never truly know what it feels like to love and trust. Just imagine what that existence is like, not just for a week or month or summer, but for life. Do they even know what they're missing? No, but they live in a constant state of hypervigilance, viewing the world in a sterile, game-like manner. They have no real attachment to anyone."

My sociopath, Clarence Robert Hunt, III
A chameleon who makes himself into whatever he needs to be to destroy his victims

This describes Bob to a tee, his complete lack of trust in others, his use of others to satisfy his wants and desires.  His pointless attacks on others for sport.  The calculating, cold and uncaring ways in which he sought to destroy others, especially me.

The interesting correlation between genetics and antisocial/sociopathic personality disorder links directly to Bob's family.  His brother exhibits all the traits of a sociopath, so does his father.  The difference with Bob was always that he masked his pathology so well by playing the defenseless victim that people actually felt sorry for him.  I was, in fact, very sorry for Bob's life and his life story.  How much of that story is really true no one knows.  What we do know is that Bob used his charming, affable, caring persona to victimize others in sadistic ways.  

Should I have seen it, yes.  Why didn't I see it?  I didn't see it because he was so good, he used emotional blackmail so well, and tears so well that being a kind and caring person there was o way for me not to be sucked into his deceit.

Initially Bob's pathology was not clearly evident to me.  There were red flags that would give me the occasional clenching of my stomach at things he would say or do.  Over time his pathology worsened and began seeping like waste leaving a cesspool.  Over time he lost much of the ability to hide himself from others.  It was then that he retreated to the double life, a new set of victims or consorts that he kept quiet about, a new set of unsuspecting victims being manipulated by stories of victimization.

The stories of victimization and abuse by me got Bob sympathy.  They got him safety, safety to begin to victimize the very people he had conned into believing his story.  In the final stages, before Bob left he had already been planning his escape and setting up new victims. His parents, he said to me not long after he left and had been lying to me about staying with family in Huntsville, Alabama, "they have money, you can tell,"  he was never in Huntsville, he was in Monroe, Georgia with his parents, he was commenting on his parents.  I shuddered when Bob told me this, he was casing his own parents, what could he get.  The sad shame is that his parents have no idea what their son is capable of doing.  Bob has tremendous rage at both his father and stepmother.  Rage that therapists who have seen Bob say could eventually be homicidal.  

Whomever Bob is involved with in Savannah at this time has something Bob wants, he does not become involved with anyone for the aspect of having a friend, it is for personal gain.  He has scoped out what he can get and he has laid a trap, a deceitful dangerous trap.

If the involvement is with Keith Allen Kelly, (whom Bob says has nothing) then Keith is in terrible danger. Bob transfers all of the negative in his life to whomever he is involved with at the time.  In  time Keith Allen Kelly will be the target of all the wrong Bob feels he has suffered in his life.  He will become violent, if he has not already, he will become abusive, physically, emotionally, financially, sexually.  It may be that all Bob is seeking from Keith is to control him, in my estimation that is part of his victimization anyway.  I am sure Keith is not a bad person, I am sure Keith is desperate for love and he seems to cling to anything or one that give him notice.  

The most scary thing about Bob is the decompensation that he has gone through.  He has become more calculating, sinister and violent as he has aged.  When I was first domestic violence advocate Bob scored very high on the lethality index.  For those who have never heard of it, the lethality index is a measure of an individuals ability to deadly.

For those who would like to read the full article, here is the link:

http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/insight-is-2020/201304/understanding-the-sociopath-cause-motivation-relationship

Hypersmash.com

Falling in Love

I met Bob in 1993.  We met at a party, It was a large group of people  at  the home of   a couple I has just met at another party given  by  my  boss.   I don't know why I was drawn to him, he looked lost standing all alone leaning against a counter in the kitchen eating cheesecake.  We talked a bit, very little in fact.  It was nothing significant. Later  the  next week I got a call from  the party host, he asked me  if  I had  met  anytone  at  the party that I would like to get to know better.  By this time I forgotten Bob's name.  I described him and he knew who I was talking about.  He gave me Bob's number and I did, reluctantly, call him.  I was never one to initiate contact, I was shy and it caused me a lot of anxiety to talk with someone I didn't really know.  We had a really nice conversation, we were on the phone for quite a time.  We agreed to meet for dinner later in the week.  

The night of our dinner I picked Bob up at his apartment.  He had recently moved into the place, it was a carriage house apartment in a bad part of town. It was an area of town that he no place being in, later I would learn from a co-worker that Bob's apartment was one block from the worst crack park in Savannah.  We went to Snapper's on Whitemarsh Island.  Bob would eventually work at Snapper's.

I remember being somewhat concerned about our compatability.  Bob told me that he had wanted to attend The School of Mines and study geology, but his father and stepmother would not let him.  He talked about his college career and his studying to be a teacher.  Bob didn't finish his degree.  He told me he became disillusioned with teaching when he was told, in a class, that he could not correct a  student's english usage.  He now worked second shift as an assistant manager of a Revco Drug store.  Bob told me that now he wanted to be a hairdresser.  That seemed stereotypically gay to me.  Bob was somewhat effeminate, not at all what I liked.  I still was worried and uncomfortable about being found out, so I tended to like men who were more masculine.  After dinner I took Bob home, we went into his apartment and talked for a while.  The apartment was small, the kitchen terrible, the bathroom worse.  He had a small dog, Sydney he had named her after the Mayflower Madam, Sydney Biddle Barrows.

That night Bob kissed me when we got to the car, it was a full on kiss, not a peck on the cheek, and he did it again several times, we both were getting more and more aroused and it was outside.  I remember feeling his erection as we hugged.  I left that evening, we had agreed to meet again. I am not sure what the events were.  I do remember Bob and I did a lot together.  We both liked the beach and spent a lot of time there.  We would spend hours talking.  We began to talk daily, then several times daily, we would meet for lunch.  I remember enjoying Bob immensely, I remember going to his apartment on Saturday mornings, he had given me a key, and crawling in bed with him.  Most of the time he didn't wake up he just turned and put his arms around me and cuddled tightly against me.  I felt loved, I felt wanted, I felt an overwhelming calm.  I had never had this before, I had never felt this before, I liked the feeling, I was falling in love.

When I moved to Savannah I stayed with my mother, she was moving and I was looking for an apartment of my own.  I had been told to live outside the city, primarily because of the crime.  Bob and I had grown closer, much closer.  There were times I would feel a twinge of uneasiness at some of the things he would  say and do.  I arrived at his apartment one day, his hand was cut, multiple  cuts, he said he wanted to see if the air conditioner was working so he stuck his hand into the units fan,  it just happened to be on at the time .This  concerned me.  Bob did things that at times made no sense.  One day we were at the beach and we were walking out in the surf on the south end of Tybee, the tide was going out and we got into an area where there was an undertow. I nearly lost my balance the water was so strong.  It didn't phase Bob at all, it actually scared me that he did not think that it was dangerous.  I remember him telling me it was OK to just follow him.  There were other signs, his telling me how he flirted with men in the bars to get drinks.  Bob spent his nights after work at Faces or Club One.  His routine was to go to the bars after work and stay out late.  I guessed that his life was probably pretty sad, he seemed sad, very sad.

One evening we wanted to cook for me.  He got ribs, the problem was his stove was broken and would only heat to 500 degrees.  He had a grill and was going to fix the ribs on the grill.  They didn't come out quite right, that was fine, it was nice that he wanted to do it for me.  That night I spent the night, I remember Bob not going to bed when I did, I found that strange.  He never wanted me to stay up when he wanted to go to bed, but he would stay up without me.  Some of this may have been his schedule, some of this may have been the beginning of his need to have me around all the time.

I really enjoyed the time we spent together.  I think I admired Bob's charm, his boyish qualities and his neediness. He was the sweetest man I’d ever met, he had a vulnerability about him that made me want to protect him.  He was someone that needed taking care of, he was depressed and the more I learned about his life the more I loved him.  His mother had recently died and he had not seemed to deal with the loss, he would cry when he spoke of her.  He had never lived alone, he was doing it for the first time at 28., Bob had a series of living arrangements, all were short lived.  He had bounced around from friend to friend.  There was never really any stability in his life.  That made me sad for him.

While Bob was in college he met Steven.  Steven was much, much older than Bob and a good ten years older than me.  That would have made him about twenty years older when they met.  Bob was just twenty, so Steven was probably past forty.  Bob ended up moving in with Steven.  Probably the worst thing he could have done.  Bob dropped out of school and had several jobs, low paying jobs, a grocery store and a sub shop.  I'm not sure how long Bob lived with Steven, he told me they had never had sex but slept in the same bed while Bob lived with him.  Bob told me that he had been raped.  I asked him how it happened and he said the guy forced himself on him.  I was worried about that, I was worried about the partners he had, sexual partners.  One was Rick, he worked in a pawn shop and was someone Bob had dated and slept with, I would later find out that Rick was HIV+ and he never told Bob.  All the men Bob told me about were much older than he, the involvement was short, intense and none of these guys, except for Steven, was in his life.  Rick maintained contact but that was about all, or so I think.  Steven always had a hold on Bob.  I often said to Bob that he and Steven should probably ended up together.  I think in some respects Steven was fulfilling a father need for Bob.  Steven had many "relationships". None lasted very long and all of the guys had some criminal background.  As Bob told me about all the older men I started to put together that he was being used, used in the worst possible way.  Bob was fresh young meat  for these guys.  They were not teaching him anything or helping him to be a better person.  They were not  helping him define himself as a gay man. What they were teaching him was how to engage in risky, dangerous behavior.

One night we had Steven and his then boyfriend over for dinner.  I didn't mind Steven, I didn't like the boyfriend.  Steven was a truck driver. Steven was an alcoholic. I cooked a nice dinner and had set the table as I normally would for company.  After dinner Steven and his boyfriend asked us to go Faces, a bar downtown.  I told them I could not because of work.  I felt funny when Bob asked me if he could go without me.  I didn't know what to think, part of me was concerned and part of me was angry.  I told Bob, honestly, that I prefered his not going.  He pressed a bit as to why and then backed off.  I was insecure of Bob going.  Bob had told me some of his drinking stories and he had been arrested for DUI.  I immediately went to his having told me about the flirting for drinks and that concerned me.  He didn't go that night.  I was thankful he didn't go.

The months went by and Bob and I grew closer and closer, I had fallen deeply in love with Bob.  I remember the night I told him.  He didn't tell me back.  I should have wondered why.  In the later part of July, Bob called me late in the evening.  His voice was trembling, he sounded like he was crying.  He told me his apartment had been broken into, they had stolen his guns, took furniture, he told me the dog was found cowering under the bed.  I didn't know what to say to him, I felt terrible for him.  Over the next three nights Bob was robbed each night until nothing was left.  He was now going to be homeless and all his belongings were gone. The next words out of my mouth were why don't we live together.  He said yes.  We found an apartment on Wilmington Island, two bedrooms and two baths.  My furniture was delivered from Connecticut and we had a home.  The only problem was it was all mine and nothing of Bob’s

Bob got a promotion.  He was made manager of the Hilton Head store.  I was thrilled for him, he was certainly capable of doing the job.  The bad part was the job was on Hilton Head on the far end of the Island near the Sea Pines entrance and a long drive.  Bob had a car that we'd bought him, it was a Honda hatchback with high miles.  I worried about him driving that distance in that car.  Bob asked if he could use my car, my new 5 litre Mustang.  I let him.

My mother had become ill.  I noticed a change in her when Bob and I visited her in September, over Labor Day.  She seemed tired, very tired.  She had been sick with a respiratory infection after the move.  In late October she called me at work.  Something she never did.  I knew something was wrong for her to call me at work.  She asked me to come down, she was not doing well and needed me.  I told my boss what was happening, told Bob I was going.  I packed that night and set off the next morning.  When I got to the house I noticed she really hadn't been doing much.  She was not letting the dogs out.  For the next week I tried to get her into the doctor.  Finally I was able to get her seen.  She had congestive heart failure.  I ended up staying with her for three weeks.  During that time I talked to Bob regularly on the phone.  I worried about him being alone, but he said he was fine.  I returned home knowing that the next few months were going to be tough, I was going to go to mom's every other weekend and arranged time to be with her at Thanksgiving and Christmas.  I remember walking into our apartment when I got home, I remember looking at Bob and asking him what had happened, he had lost thirty pounds while I was gone.  He said he hadn't been eating.  I was worried.

At Thanksgiving Bob took the train down, he then took the car to go home.  He was going to come and get me when I was ready to go  back to Savannah.  

Christmas came and Bob and I spent it with mom.  By this time she was doing better and was able to do things on her own.  I wouldn't see her again until March.

In the meantime our lives were pretty unremarkable,  I seemed to get busier and busier at work.  I was doing a lot and getting tired.  I was also depressed.  and having trouble with the culture shock of Savannah.  It was the south, it was nothing like liberal New England.  It was as if, in many ways, the civil rights movement had bypassed Savannah all together.

I went, at the urging of my supervisor, someone I now consider my best friend, to a psychiatrist.  He understood what was happening and put me on antidepressants.  In a few weeks I felt much better.  Bob had gone to the doctor several times with me for joint sessions.  He didn't like going, he didn't know why he had to be there.  He was the first doctor to tell me to leave Bob, this was before any of the problems surfaced.  Well, the serious problems.  I think, in retrospect that the doctor, who was closeted knew of Bob’s reputation. Life went on and was busy, I was taking on more at work, I was offered and took a second job as a counselor in an outpatient rehab program.  Bob was still working on Hilton Head.  We had varying schedules and were able to spend some time together. .  I was concerned about his level of depression.  .  Bob was always very needy but the more depressed he became the more needy he became.  It became very difficult for me to sleep.  I would lay on my stomach or side facing away from Bob.  He would literally be on top of me, it became very uncomfortable for me.  I talked to him about it and he looked crushed.  I felt terrible. .  

During those years, the early years, Bob would leave me cards telling me he loved me.  He sent me flowers at work for no reason.  Nice things that told me he did love me.  Eventually those things would stop.  I missed his doing that, I wanted the romance, I wanted to know he cared.  Our relationship lacked intimacy, I don’t think  Bob had any clue what intimacy was or how and why it is needed in a relationship.

Bob had been commuting to Hilton Head for six or seven months.  He called me one day, his voice shaking, he was upset.  Apparently there was a store inventory audit and it was bad.  He told me that it was from the previous manager.  He asked me what to do, he knew he was going to be fired.  I told him to try and stick it out, I told him if he needed to quit to do so, I would support his decision.  He ended up leaving the company.  He slipped into a depression that was difficult, he lost interest in everything.

Bob had worked since he was fifteen.  He was a janitor and graded papers and answered phones at his school.  He did this all through High School.  I had always wondered why his parents didn't let him be a teenager.  Because of this work is very important to Bob , it is not so much a strong work ethic as it is how he identifies himself.  I think that he didn’t have strong role models in the formative years, he was and is still unable to create balance in his life.  He undertakes work with such intensity that he ultimately spirals out of control.  I has happened repeatedly.  

Several weeks after Bob had become unemployed he was still not working.  I told him to get anything he could.  He really  didn’t even try to find a job..I was getting very worried about my mother.  I had been to visit her and was concerned about her being alone .  I discussed all of this with Bob.  We agreed to begin looking at jobs in Florida.  I was able to get an interview at a mental health /addictions center.  We decided to go down together for that interview.  We got down to mom's and began looking for a place to live.  Bob got an interview at a Taco Bell franchise as a manager trainee.  I remember his first day of work.  They had given him a woman's shirt instead of a mans.  He refused to take it off and just wear a plain shirt.  He was ready to leave well in advance of his appointment.  I don't know what the problem was, but while he was sitting waiting to go he fell asleep.  His wearing a womans shirt made no sense to me and I couldn't understand why he wouldn't take it off.

Bob was working, I was not.  I had to go back to Savannah and my job, I left my mom and Bob together.  I had always told Bob never to divulge our relationship to my mother.  I was not out to her and didn't want to be.  It was personal, my mother didn't take things well and ever since I'd been young she sheltered me.  He understood, or so I thought.  I went back to Savannah still hoping to find a job in Florida.  I don't remember the exact timing of all that happened, I do remember the phone calls and the drunken rampage my mother went on.  I guess she and Bob got drinking, I think she knew if she loosened him up he would talk.  Well she asked him if we were gay and he of course said yes.  That was it the floodgates opened and she let him have it and called me and let me have it too.  I was called every gay slur known to man.  She would repeatedly call me yell and hang up.  I got to talk to Bob briefly, he was scared, he'd never seen this side of her.  I figured that things would blow over in the morning and cooler heads would prevail.  I was wrong, my mother asked Bob to leave.  It was sad, hard for me, I loved Bob and I wanted nothing more than for her to like him and include him.  That was the last time they would see each other. Bob called me before he left her house to tell me he was on his way home.  I worried about him driving the distance having had little sleep.  I made a decision to myself that day.  I had to decide between my mother and Bob.  I chose Bob.  Mom and I didn't speak until the week before my birthday that year.  She never apologized, but she told me she missed me and wanted me to come down.

When I had gotten home after leaving Bob with my Mom there had been a water leak in our apartment.  It was serious and required repairs.  They did an awful job with the repairs.  There was too much going on and we both needed some peace and quiet.  Bob had been in touch with his "Uncle Eddy" who lived on the back river on Tybee Island.  The house was Bob's grandparents and his Great Aunt had maneuvered it away from the other relatives.  We got asked to Eddy's for dinner on a Saturday night.  I don't know how it came about, but the downstairs of the house was and apartment of sorts.  It was at the beach which great because we both loved it there.  Bob was still not working.  That put a lot of stress on me.  Eddy asked us if we'd like to move in, we both said yes.  We broke the apartment lease and moved out to Tybee.  I remember the day we moved, friends  of mine from work were there to help.  One was a peer of mine, he took me aside when we got to Eddy's and told me that a number of his clients were at the house for a party.  What was bad was that the clients were from the transitional center, they were not supposed to be in that environment.

Life at Eddy's was interesting.   Eddy was a terrible alcoholic.  He drank from the time he got up until he passed out at night.  We had little privacy and it was noisy all night, not good for me having to get up early for work.  We tried to manage, but both of us were becoming more and more uneasy.  The final straw came when Eddy was banging on the door one night wielding a gun, he was falling down drunk.  It scared the both of us.  I started the search for a new place to live.  Then we found a book in the spare bedroom, a book full of naked pictures of young boys and Eddy in some compromising positions.  A friend of mine at the Savannah Police Department told me after the fact that I should have turned the book over to him.  

Luckily we found a nice place on Officers Row.  It was the second floor of one of the former officers housing.  It had a full view of the ocean and you could see the ships coming into the mouth of the Savannah River.  We moved, with problems though. Eddy tried to stop Bob from taking the furniture, he claimed it was his, I made a call to the Tybee police Cheif and it was taken care of, Bob wasn't bothered at all.  Eddy did, however, stalk us for a time and it made me very uneasy, you could not miss him he had a black 1965 Mustang convertible, the only one on the Island.  The stalking stopped after Bob's father called him and told him to stop or he was going to make public the fact that Eddy molested him when he was young.  Eddy stopped.

I was in heaven.  I loved the beach, the house had a wrap around front porch.  I loved getting up in the morning and sitting on the porch having coffee.  I loved getting home at night and walking on the beach.  I only had Saturday off, so my life was pretty busy with a full time and part time job.  I loved riding my bike around the island, we had bought Bob a bike, he liked it but not when I got up at four in the morning to ride before work.  

Bob was working at Snapper's, on Whitemarsh Island, he enjoyed it and his schedule was not bad at all.  He worked Monday through Friday and just a couple of nights.

He was happy and that made me feel good.  Around Christmas that year I saw the first explosion of many.  Bob pulled over the Christmas tree in a rage one night.  He had gone completely off and I saw a side of him I had never seen.  It scared me.

We had joined a gym on Wilmington Island, it was great, small , not crowded and run by our doctor.  I would go and work out in the morning, Bob would go with me.  Bob didn't really work out though, he did more sitting.  For the first time since Connecticut I felt good and was getting weight off I'd put on since moving to Savannah.  Christmas I went to mom's, Bob didn't go to his parents, he stayed in Savannah.  I hated leaving him alone, that was the hardest part of my mothers and Bobs estrangement. I felt a need to be with her so she wasn't alone and I felt a need to be with my partner.  Bob said he understood, he never said anything about it until last summer.  He blamed me for not staying with him over the holidays.  

After Christmas we were in a routine.  I was still working a lot and was going on in my life.  I was under stress much of the time and was tired a lot.  It was in June I think that we were returning from the gym headed back out to Tybee.  There was a hurricane warning.  Of all the things I feared, A hurricane scared me the most.  I told Bob was scared and he made some off the cuff remark, I let him have it.  We got quiet and finished the drive home.  When we got home Bob went ahead of me into the apartment.  He was angry and started to break apart a rocking chair that was his mothers.  He continued to break the chair apart until nothing was left but splintered wood.   Then he locked himself in a closet.  He stayed there for what seemed forever.  I was shaking, I was worried, I had never seen him like this.  I called the medical director, a psychiatrist, that was head of our facility.  I told him what had happened and he told me to bring Bob in the next morning.  For the rest of that Sunday I tried to keep things as calm as possible. We talked a little about what had happened.  He told me about his spending time in the closet as a child, this went on through his teens.  He told me he had a TV in his closet, it was the place he would go to get away from the chaos at home.  I felt terrible for him.  I knew that day how damaged he really was.

Bob was seen the next day and immediately put on antidepressants.  The doctor was going to monitor him and arranged for psychological testing.  He had the testing and it revealed several things, he was in a severe depression, he was very smart, very smart and he was ADHD.  He stayed with the psychologist and the doctor, and within several months he was feeling better, had energy, seemed happy.  Bob changed for the better, he was finally interested in things, he was funny again, we laughed a lot.  

He continued on with the medications, they helped him immensely.  He got a promotion at work, not a great promotion but nonetheless a promotion.  Everything seemed calm.  The therapist said Bob was dissociative.  Basically, he would slip into psychosis when things were more than he could handle.  Treatable but tough.  The therapy centered around our relationship, Bob’s issues as well as mine.  I had hoped that we would come out of therapy with a better understanding of each other and a greater commitment from him.  I had  always felt that Bob was not really participating in our relationship.  He still had neediness about him, a kind of lost soul.  I worried about him, I worried about his depression and and I was deeply concerned for his future.  

My life became very busy.  I had two jobs, was going away for training in Chicago and spending a month at the Rutgers Summer School of Drug and Alcohol Studies.  My first trip to Chicago was in March.  I worried about leaving Bob at home alone.  Before I left I made out all the checks for bills coming due and instructions on when to send them.  Simple enough.  When I got back none of the bills had been sent out, my car insurance was past due, my car payment was late and a host of other bills.  I could not understand why he didn't send the bills out, then went to the bank and money was gone, the money to pay the bills.  I don't know what he spent the money on.  I questioned if he was going to bars, It crossed my mind that he was out doing things he probably should not have been doing.  Bob was not a good liar.  It was  obvious when he lied, he would stammer and look away from you when he lied.  He also had a habit of rolling his eyes when he lied.  I would point this out to him, he denied vehemently that he was lying, the more he protested the more it became clear he was lying.  

It was around this time that I was getting closer to a role of caretaker than that of a partner. Bob had begun to play with his medication, he would skip it, he would not take it at all.  It was easy to tell when he had not taken his medication.  He felt that the medication wasn't needed, this was just the beginning of what would be a long painful struggle and a spiral out of control that lasted for years.

It was also around this time that I began to be suspicious of Bob's life away from me.  He had kept me from his friends.  He didn't want me to get to know his friends,  He said I was the one isolating him when in fact it was Bob isolating me.  Then I started tohear that he was unhappy in our relationship.  I would try to talk to Bob about the problems and wanted to get to the bottom of anything that was causing trouble.  He wouldn't talk.  He would just clam up and say he was fine. I became insecure about what was going on.  Another thing happened that concerned me  for it was a change in his attitude.  We were invited to the friends where we met for our anniversary.  They wanted to celebrate our being together.  It was a cookout, they had a pool and were nudists.  I was not particularly fond of sitting around naked.  We had an understanding that we would come if everybody was clothed.  To my surprise Bob took off his clothes.  I was shocked.  This was a guy who, when I met him, put his underwear on after sex.  He wouldn't sleep nude either.  In time he would sleep nude and he stopped putting on his underwear after sex.  It was as if he was ashamed of having sex.  Guilt or being ashamed, I don't know.  That evening I did go swimming with no suit.  To my surprise and bewilderment Bob got in the hot tub with four other guys and didn't get in the pool with me.  I wondered what was going on.  This was the first of many changes that would take place, changes that would make me wonder who I'd become involved with.

That night everyone wanted us go to the bars with them.  Of course I said no, I think Bob thought that I would cave in and go.  He was different on the way home that night.  I felt a distance between us, I didn't like the feeling.  I remember holding him tight that night.  

In June I went back to Chicago.  That trip was a training trip and I wish I'd taken Bob with me.  I went with the director of the facility where I worked part time.  It was not a lot of fun, from the time we got on the plane this person was drinking.  Then he started making advances to me, unwelcome advances.  It was a nerve racking trip, I just clammed up because I didn't know what to do and was in a very awkward position.  Just before, the night before in fact, I had asked the people arriving to stay in the third floor loft to please be quiet.  It was one in the morning and I was awakened by the noise.  I had to get up at four thirty.  They were quiet the rest of the night.  

When I got home there was a letter from the woman who owned the house and was in the loud group.  It was a two page how dare you.  I don't react well to how dare you.  This woman had a reputation for being a nut and I had to much going on, I decided we were moving.  I called a friend who was an apartment manager on Wilmington Island, she got us a two bedroom apartment.  I changed my dates for Rutgers in order to move.  We moved got settled and I left for New Jersey.  I didn't want a repeat of the last time I was gone, I wanted there to be no problems when I got back.

Following the training I flew up to Boston to see my sister.  I hadn't seen her since leaving Connecticut.  We had a nice time.  The entire weekend I tried to find a time to tell her about my relationship with Bob.  As far as I knew, my mother believed we were not together.  At least that is what I told her.

When I got home the apartment was a mess.  Bob had done nothing the entire time I was gone.  I flew off the handle, it was another instance of Bob not participating in our relationship.  This would become worse over time, much worse.  The other problem was that Bob was and is very rough on things.  He treats things as disposable, he does not form attachments to things like the rest of us, he doesn't even form attachments with people.

Major changes were coming in our lives, changes that set a bad course for both of us in the end.  

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