Guest Room
05-22-2017, 11:24 PM
The story with his parents is equally curious. Having told me they were dead, both having "died" last summer - the same time he was diagnosed "indetectable HIV" (the last mystery I have not yet solved), I was suspicious. Within the first month of us dating, Research quickly revealed a photo of them running a marathon in a newspaper dated September 2016. I showed it to him and he said "it's just a memorial photo from the year before. I wasn't convinced. A couple weeks later, he confessed "they are alive, but dead to me", due to the HIV and being gay. Plausible.
We took a trip with friends to San Francisco. He got very drunk, disappeared at a mystery friend's house. I was worried. He came back and told me "I came to SF to kill myself - tonight's my last night". As a priest, I felt I had to take such a threat seriously. He made me believe I talked him out of it. We came back to NY and he told me he had to catch up with work in the city, and that he'd be home at the end of the day. But he didn't. I convinced myself he had returned and actually killed himself. I called the police in NYC, gave them his (fake) address and they couldn't find him. Frantic with worry, I tracked down a phone number for his parents, asking if they had a better address and telling them my worst fear. That led to a long discussion about how they hadn't heard from him in 2 years.
Then he walked in the door. Angry I had contacted his parents.
Then, in November, I had to rush to the Midwest to turn off my father's ventilator. While I was at his bedside, I got a call from my credit card company reporting extravagant expenses on my card in his parents' hometown. I looked and realized he was going from bar to bar - $500 worth. I called his parents asking them to go to such-and-such bar and stop him (I wasn't thinking straight under the circumstances). They declined because it was inconvenient. I canceled the card.
When he broke up in February, his mother was worried he would kill himself. I had his Facebook password. I looked him up and found he was hooking up for a place to stay. Dick shots and an address. So, I gave his mother the password knowing she'd see the pornographic drunken mess (I admit I enjoyed doing a shitty ex-thing for good reason!)
She and I chatted a lot more.
Once he gave up the alcohol, he finally introduced me to the parents. They told me I was the first boyfriend he'd ever introduced. He and his parents eventually reconciled and have a good relationship again, and B and the parents gave me the credit. Nice.
A few days ago, with all of his "I need to make a big decision" announcement, I was having an anxiety attack. I wrote a long letter spelling out all of the above and asked if she had ever considered whether he might have been sexually abused as a child. The theory still makes a lot of sense to me. She didn't answer - uncharacteristic. The next day, I sent an apology text if I had overstepped. Eventually, she merely texted a "thumbs up". Odd. And that's where it stands now. He did tells me they chatted on the phone this morning, but I'm sure she said nothing of my letter or theory.
I should reiterate that he has been totally trustworthy since we got back together in February. But still no sex or affection. I still wonder if this was child abuse. Her silence makes me wonder all the more. Yet, I now regret writing to her.
We took a trip with friends to San Francisco. He got very drunk, disappeared at a mystery friend's house. I was worried. He came back and told me "I came to SF to kill myself - tonight's my last night". As a priest, I felt I had to take such a threat seriously. He made me believe I talked him out of it. We came back to NY and he told me he had to catch up with work in the city, and that he'd be home at the end of the day. But he didn't. I convinced myself he had returned and actually killed himself. I called the police in NYC, gave them his (fake) address and they couldn't find him. Frantic with worry, I tracked down a phone number for his parents, asking if they had a better address and telling them my worst fear. That led to a long discussion about how they hadn't heard from him in 2 years.
Then he walked in the door. Angry I had contacted his parents.
Then, in November, I had to rush to the Midwest to turn off my father's ventilator. While I was at his bedside, I got a call from my credit card company reporting extravagant expenses on my card in his parents' hometown. I looked and realized he was going from bar to bar - $500 worth. I called his parents asking them to go to such-and-such bar and stop him (I wasn't thinking straight under the circumstances). They declined because it was inconvenient. I canceled the card.
When he broke up in February, his mother was worried he would kill himself. I had his Facebook password. I looked him up and found he was hooking up for a place to stay. Dick shots and an address. So, I gave his mother the password knowing she'd see the pornographic drunken mess (I admit I enjoyed doing a shitty ex-thing for good reason!)
She and I chatted a lot more.
Once he gave up the alcohol, he finally introduced me to the parents. They told me I was the first boyfriend he'd ever introduced. He and his parents eventually reconciled and have a good relationship again, and B and the parents gave me the credit. Nice.
A few days ago, with all of his "I need to make a big decision" announcement, I was having an anxiety attack. I wrote a long letter spelling out all of the above and asked if she had ever considered whether he might have been sexually abused as a child. The theory still makes a lot of sense to me. She didn't answer - uncharacteristic. The next day, I sent an apology text if I had overstepped. Eventually, she merely texted a "thumbs up". Odd. And that's where it stands now. He did tells me they chatted on the phone this morning, but I'm sure she said nothing of my letter or theory.
I should reiterate that he has been totally trustworthy since we got back together in February. But still no sex or affection. I still wonder if this was child abuse. Her silence makes me wonder all the more. Yet, I now regret writing to her.
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