Las Vegas

I need to go back to Las Vegas.

It's been nearly ten years.  I always think of that trip to Las Vegas that I took with my family to see my nephews' basketball tournament as the last time I was the Original Me ~ before my life changed completely ~ if only I had known that my future had been foreshadowed by women before me ~ who had already experienced the kind of abuse I was about to encounter.

We had our first "date" the night before my trip ~ I stayed out late ~ and caught a plane the next morning with my sister and her boys.  Those 3 1/2 days were so unexpectedly fun ~ I loved the basketball and all the down time in between.  Dad gave us each $150 to gamble with during our stay ~ from his lucky winnings already no doubt ~ and since I was not really into gambling, I went to Caesars Palace and pretended to be rich ~ dropping all the cold cash down at Versace on a pair of Cobalt Blue designer jeans that fit perfectly.  I could not stop laughing that I did such a thing and wrapped up the afternoon by buying Lady Godiva chocolate for the plane ride home.

The plane ride home.

The plane might have just crashed to have spared me from what would happen within nine days of my return.

The foreshadow did come to me on the plane ride home.  My sister's partner told me that this guy I had just dated would be calling me the minute I got home.  "Just you wait," he warned in a joking way, "He's going to be calling you since you've been gone for four days! Just you wait!"

I was so adventurous back then ~ having drove Mom's Old Mustang to airport myself ~ now driving back before Midnight from San Jose to Ben Lomond.

And within fifteen minutes, the phone rang.  And yes, it was him.  Looking back, I now wonder if he was actually sitting in the church parking lot across the street waiting for a glimpse of the White Mustang returning.  But no, he said, he had been trying to reach me every fifteen minutes ~ just hitting redial ~ not knowing exactly when my flight came in that night.

Poor Lil' Red ~ I had not even seen him in 3 1/2 days, and here I was foolishly agreeing to go out at midnight.  I wish I had just stayed home.

Of course, this second date was just as fabulous as the first ~ with warm gingerbread and homemade whipped cream at the Saturn Cafe ~ and late night Karaoke at some bar that is now torn down.

I was swept away by all of the attention I had so craved in my twenties and early thirties ~ Miss Late Bloomer ~ Miss 36-and-1/2-year-old spinster of sorts ~ now being lavished with love and affection from someone who would hurt me like no other sooner than later.

That "sooner" started within five days on the first night I did not call him after work or have dinner with him.  A young friend at UCSC wanted to go to Zoccoli's after work, and since I had not seen anyone or spent enough time with Lil' Red that first week, I thought it would be okay to do "my own thing."

Later he called around 9:30 p.m. ~ seemingly frustrated about not hearing from me earlier ~ wondering where I was ~ and told me he still wanted to see me that evening.

So I got ready to go out again and found myself riding with him in his Black Mustang down a windy Graham Hill Road back to Santa Cruz with him saying:

"If I do not see a lot of you, then I am going to have to see a lot of other women."

Baffled by this comment, I did not run away at that moment.  I just thought, we'll I guess that means he wants to be exclusive ~ maybe this is his strange way of letting me know ~ but the statement still haunted me ~ because of it's controlling ultimatum style ~ almost like a threat to cheat if I was not available to spend time with him 24-7.  So naive was I even at 36 ~ having very little life experience with men ~ only having one borderline abusive relationship with a jealous boyfriend back in high school.  I should have known he was sounding just like Lupe who eventually stopped me from hanging out with my girlfriends by the end of our year together.  I should have known.  But I did not know.  I did not know.

I did not know that four days later, it was over.  I had lost myself already.  I lost my backbone.  The backbone was filled up with fear.   Fear of leaving even after only nine days.  The mind games had started.  The crazy making had started.  He was already starting to swear.  I even went to a domestic violence support group in the hopes of ending it right then and there.  I already knew where the resources were located ~ having helped my sister with volunteer activities  ~ as she had become an advocate herself ~ after 15 years of survival herself.

But I didn't.  I did not leave.  I tried for four years.  It was so hard back then to leave.  So hard.

I need to go back to Las Vegas.  I need to get on a plane and buy another pair of Versace jeans ~ this time two sizes bigger ~ since I am no longer being starved by him ~ I want some more Lady Godiva chocolate for the plane ride home ~ and this time coming back to a world that is good and loving and clean and kind ~ a world where people love and care about me ~ who do not try to change me ~ a world where compliments are spoken instead of daily criticisms ~ the world which I have already created for myself today.