In the Beginning

I wish I'd saved every text I sent, every IM chat, and taped every conversation I had with friends in the days following my beginning to find out what Clark was. I wish that, because while so much of me wants to be able to pretend he never existed, I also don't want to forget all of the things that have happened, either. It's kind of one of those "stranger than fiction" things that has just been so enormous and unbelievable that I feel if I've lived through it, I should at least remember every bit of it (as twisted as that may seem). Over these months, we've talked about so many memories and analyzed so many behaviors, and I want to have a record of it. Part of me thinks if I have that record, maybe I can stop thinking about it so much in an effort to remember it, because I'll have it down if I should ever feel the need to peruse it again. Thus, this blog. I'll still do posts on certain topics relating to sociopaths, but I'm also going to start telling the events as I remember them, just because I want them down.

Which brings me to my first real interactions with Clark. One of them involved plans we were supposed to have one night, yet the day of, I couldn't get ahold of him via cell phone. I kept texting and texting, starting to get nervous. Breaking off our afternoon plans was one thing, but we were supposed to be attending a big event that night, but I had no idea what time we were meeting, etc. I'm someone who lives by planner, so this was a problem.

Finally, a mutual aquaintance sent me a text saying Clark had texted him and wanted him to tell me he was in the emergency room being treated for chest pains. DING DING! WARNING BELL! If he could text our mutual aquaintance, why couldn't he text me? (By the way, that whole "have someone tell someone else something" thing is a whole different part of his pathology, but that's another story for another time). Oh well. I shook the thought away. I just hoped he was okay.

An hour or so later, he called me. He assured me he was fine to go to the event that night. When I saw him later that day, he didn't seem sick at all. He was perfectly fine. He did tell me that meant we couldn't stay at his apartment that night (he lived out of town)- we would go and stay at his parents' home, because "they had the medicine he needed there."

I would later find out more about why we really couldn't stay at his apartment. Again, another story for another time.

But this day was my first experience with his very large lies to cover for when he blew me off or blew anyone off. This was my first experience with the pity ploy, too, I think. Oh, no, it wasn't. That would've been the few days prior when he blew off something because his dad was having "triple bypass surgery." Cut to the night a few days later when we stayed at his parents' after the event. He told me (pre-damage control) on our way to their house to "not mention his Dad's surgery if he was home, because he was really sensitive about it. In fact, you'd never know he had surgery at all. He's recovered so fast."

Yep, you'd never know he had surgery, because he didn't. If only I'd see through that right then and there, I'd have saved myself a lot of heartache. Unfortunately, I bought it hook, line, and sinker.