Sometime ago, in my old journal, I did an entry about Daniel, and how the loss of his presence affected me very deeply.  I thought it might be healthy for me to dredge up the demons of past relationships, one at a time, over the course of many months or years, as a therapeutic kind of thing, for most of these stories are untold, and there is healing in telling. 
    Maybe I'm ready to talk about Dave. 
    Dave was in his early forties, and I in my early twenties.  I can see your eyes rolling already, but my youth, such as it was, gave me a lot more mileage than most, and, arguably, the wisdom that goes with it.  I was his equal, no doubt. 
    It was when I was in the Army, as was he, and he was not in my chain of command, which theoretically made him fair game.  We still kept our relationship quiet, for it wasn't a good idea for his troops to suddenly discover that he was human.  He had much more success with them while seeming to be made of stone.  And actually the secrecy was a fuel for desire, as it often can be.  Tensions, temptations, innuendoes, secret plans, aaaahh such is the stuff... 
    It was a very exciting affair, and it pushed the boundaries of my adventurousness, for I found him willing to try anything I might suggest, and there was much I hadn't tried yet.  I was the master, I was the slave, I was the exhibit, I was the goddess.  We were kinky and straight, tender and innovative.  Even when the pretense of cruelty shone gleefully in his eyes, so also did love. 
    I never doubted his love for me, it was evident in everything.  We went on many adventures to places far afield, where we weren't likely to be recognized.  We did all the touchy things lovers do.  It was warm.  It was so nice. 
    Two things brought down what we had.  The first was my faithlessness.  I just didn't have a good grasp on my fidelity.  I could easily say that my polyamory, though I'd never heard of it at the time, was the problem, but if that were the case, I did all the wrong things.  I cheated sometimes, sometimes I sought permission, sometimes I just told him what I would do and then did it.  Sometimes I felt like I loved whoever it seemed I needed so badly, but looking back, it doesn't seem so at all.  I was selfish, and hungry.  This hurt him badly, that he in all his trying could not be everything to me. 
    The second thing was his lack of self-appreciation, and this came before the infidelity, so you cannot say I caused it, though I may have exacerbated it.  He had a very thick set of filters that every perception wove its way through, and usually ended up derogatory on its arrival.  I could say the most innocent thing, "My, how gorgeous you look today!" which would provoke the reply, "Oh so yesterday I looked like shit, then."  Every comment wound up twisted, and it got so hard to say the right thing, to pin him down to accepting a compliment, or even a neutral comment.  I would get so furious, the fights were every bit as spectacular as the lovemaking. 
    We were on again, off again for two years, during which time I was on again, off again with the guy I would marry later, who would prove to be a bigamist and a fraud.  The whole thing ended when I was reassigned to the other side of the country; we considered it for the best, I think. 
    A few months later I heard his name again.  He had been reassigned to Alaska and was involved in a big scandal invovling the burning of another soldier in effigy.  The media made it out to be a racial thing, but knowing him as I did, I knew there was more to it than that, and race likely had nothing to do with it at all.  I never knew a less bigoted man than Dave. 

    A word about the nightmare of last entry:  as I read it over, it occurred to me that it is not very apparent just why that dream was a nightmare to me.  No monsters, no grisly images of death or severe injury, no stalking or falling or whatever.  Being bound to a person who most definitely does not want me is not the happy ideal marriage in my eyes, regardless of my depth of feeling for him, or more likely because of the depth of my feeling for him.  Something that very one sided can only cause much injury. 
    I am not now jealous of Chloe.  I like her and respect her a great deal.  I still consider her a friend, and accepted her invitation to attend their virtual wedding, which I may talk about some other day.  Whatever pain I suffer from this exile really has nothing to do with her, and I wish her every happiness.