This is my third time starting over writing this portion of my story. I keep getting caught up in the details, because I am still too close to it. This is the last part, what I call the aftermath, takes place after the pretender (the man who I last lived with who pretended to be a Dom) had been discarded. Make no mistake, I did discard him. If you haven’t read that part of my story, you can find it here.
There is a gap at the end of my other story which I left off where he went to jail. Between the time I left him at his parents and the time he went to jail, he spent living with this other woman, she and I became friends. Our friendship grew slowly over the years but really didn’t solidify until late in her relationship with the pretender. There seemed to be quite a difference in what occurred in her relationship from mine but the result was all the same if not far worse. She ended up with two small children, living on minimum wage. He physically beat her, and one of those times was while she was pregnant. But that is her story, and isn’t really mine to tell, other than how it overlapped mine.
After discarding the pretender, I had to deal with things alone in a foreign country without friends. I hadn’t really become aware of my isolation until then. I’ve always been a loner, someone who didn’t gather hordes of friends. At the most in my life I would have maybe one or two close girlfriends at any given time but not this time. I had no one. I came close to just chucking it all in, packing up my daughter and driving back to where my brothers lived just as one of my sister-in-laws suggested. All I could think of though, was I didn’t want to take the easy road and just give up.
It was hard. The stress was unbelievable. I didn’t know French but I was picking it up piece by piece. I thought about taking French classes the province offered but my time at work was demanding and the time taking care of my daughter didn’t leave much time for other things. My money was stretched as tight as it could be with the financial difficulties I had along with having to pay an in-home sitter due to not being able to get anyone at any daycare on the phone to see if I could find her a spot. No one would talk to anyone who didn’t speak French. And no one would return my calls if I left messages. It was beyond frustrating.
I finally got my finances straightened out enough to apply for permanent residency for me and my daughter. It took months and a good chunk of change to finally get them. I moved from an apartment on the third floor of a building with no elevator to a ground floor apartment in a quadplex or whatever you call them where there are four apartments in one building. There was no yard for my daughter to play in but about a year after we moved into the place we met one of the neighbors who had two kids, one older and the other younger than my daughter. They spoke English and both her kids and mine were happy to have someone to play with who spoke English.
The kid’s mother and I became friends, but she wasn’t much help to me other than just someone to talk to on occasion. Actually that sounded kind of harsh, she was a lot of help by just being my friend. But, she had a whole slew of her own problems and we did our best to support each other. I was very grateful I now had someone I could call a friend. We took the kids to the park together some times. Other times, when the weather was nice we would sit on our steps watching the kids play on the sidewalk, or we spent time at each other’s homes. It wasn’t perfect but then life is never perfect, and I was still stressed to the max, though I really didn’t know it.
Most of this time I wasn’t interested in any men, though at one point I seemed to go through a period of feeling quite desperate to have someone help share the load and I went online searching through dating sites. After a couple months I gave that up, realizing I was looking again for all the wrong reasons.
During this time too I was receiving emails from the pretender telling me how he had changed and that he held me in high esteem (whatever that means). Him and his wife (yes they married) came a couple times to visit his daughter, and as I said she and I were becoming friends. The first time I met her, we had gone to a movie and were talking so I asked her if she minded if I said something. She said to say what was on my mind, so I cautioned her about the pretender, explaining to her how I thought he had used me to put a roof over his head, food in his stomach and clothes on his body. She listened and then I heard the excuses of why it wouldn’t happen to her. She had after all been a counselor at one time, so I dropped it.
During one of the visits, just as they were getting in the car to leave, the pretender, kissed me. I was shocked to say the least, especially that he would do it in front of his wife. She either didn’t see or it didn’t bother her or she chose not to say anything in front of me.
I received more emails after that making it sound like he wanted to get back together with me, but I shut him down and told him no way. The email communications were interesting. I didn’t believe a word he said and he kept talking his garbage of about how he had changed while I sat back and waited for it to all blow up.