Saint Patrick's Day

After the relationship with the BPD ended, I had little interaction with her. She and I did not communicate because in a Borderline relationship, you cannot have contact with the partner. They will end up accusing you of horrible things that you probably did not do, but nonetheless, it's stressful and risky.

I had just received a bin full of my belongings from the Borderline. She left them, along with a container of Faultless starch, on my porch.

I felt terrible.

I felt angry.

I felt like it was time for me to be a single guy. Spend a night on the town, just hanging out, and being myself. Or, maybe do something else.

Maybe I find Bob.

Finding Bob -- Borderlines' Old Boyfriends Help Fill In The Missing Pieces

Bob was her last major Boyfriend. Bob had dated the BPD for 3 years, according to the BPD. She cheated on her now dead husband with Bob. Had a full-out affair, admitted it and stopped, then went back to the affair around the same time that her husband passed away in a drunk driving car accident.

From what the BPD told me, Bob was a narcissist:

- Bob cheated on her regularly

- Bob was charming and handsome, but mean underneath

- Bob watched pornography regularly and did nasty things to the BPD

- Bob victimized the BPD

- Bob mistreated the BPD

- Bob lied to the BPD regularly

- Bob was married but getting divorced when he was with the BPD

- Bob now has a restraining order from seeing the BPD because of the night they broke up. More about that in the future.

When I met the BPD and began dating her, she told me on the first date that she was victimized by a narcissist. She told me that Bob promised her the world, but just took advantage of her. I felt so bad for her, and I had such compassion for her because of what Bob did to her.

I wanted to find Bob and beat him up.

When the phone rang and she got hang ups, she said that it was Bob calling. So much that I eventually answered the phone so he would know that I was there and she was protected.

When we first moved in together, the BPDs parents told her that they were quite comforted because I would be there to take care of her.

Looking back, she took care of herself just fine. She made herself vulnerable to the world so she could take full advantage of it.

When we first started dating and she would act irrationally, abnormally or just plain crazy, I would tell her that this behavior was not acceptable. At first, it was so outrageous that it was cute, but eventually, I needed to understand the root cause.

The BPD would apologize profusely, telling me that she had been the victim of Bob, the narcissist, and that she had overreacted as a result. After hearing her story, I always felt bad for her, terribly bad, and I would accept her apology.

I would tell her, "Don't do it again."

She'd do it. Again and again.

Eventually, in her mind, I became Bob. Looking back, I think in the beginning, she thought of me poorly and treated me as such, but over time, her image of me as a narcissist strengthened, and she made everything into that. She changed history to fit that image of me, because only really screwed up people could love someone like her, in her mind.

Back to finding Bob. I decided to go out in the town that Bob lived. He was a public official and well-known, and it was the night where the town had its Saint Patrick Day's celebration. The town is a small city so finding him was not easy. I had tried before. a couple of times and could not find him.

I worried that I would have difficulty recognizing him. I had only seen him once, at a bar with the BPD, when she told me that he was there and pointed him out to me.

Oh, by the way, he had a restraining order against the BPD also. She had said that this was standard practice -- both parties have restraining orders against one another when there is an incident. So, he couldn't go near her and neither could she.

So, I went out that night by myself, enjoying myself immensely. I treated myself to sushi, walked around the town, had a couple of drinks, then settled having a few smokes (I was smoking back then -- wonder why) at the cigar bar.

As I'm sitting there, I notice Bob behind me. Holy crap. I recognized this guy right away -- right away -- in a huge crowd.

I went over to him right away and asked to speak with him, taking him to another part of the bar where we could talk privately.

I introduced myself to him, told him that I had been in a relationship with the BPD and told him the current situation. We spent the rest of the evening discussing things:

"Did you ever cheat on her," I queried?

"No, I was always true blue to her," he responded. "I was going to marry her."

Then I asked him a slough of other questions, including the night that they broke up and she told me that he beat her. "She beat me up," he responded. I didn't ask any additional questions about that, but clearly, stories didn't jive.

Then he told me a story about how she was a victim of her now dead husband. He told me that she said that he tried to strangle her, and that she cried to Bob about this.

I remember hearing the story, but it was never like this.

By the end of the night, it was clear that the BPD's stories were just that -- stories. We talked about girls that the BPD had told me that Bob was sleeping with while they were in a relationship, things that she had done while they were together (like sleeping with his best friend), and more.

This woman had wreaked havoc on this poor guy's life. After she was gone, he had ruined his marriage, his career had been impacted, and his friends were impacted.

Typical borderline.

So, there I was, a couple drinks in me, and I had just found everything out -- I had just discovered that all the things that she told me and I believed were lies, and she was merely projecting her lies onto me.

I send her a couple of text messages that night. The first one says, "Bob says hi." This one was in Bob's presence.

She replies, "that's mean."

I reply, "I know the truth now."

She replies, "so do I."

Then, I get ugly. I start sending me messages that say things like, "you cried to Bob that Jeff was an abuser, choking you, then you cry to me about Bob abusing you? You're a big fat f'ing liar."

I forget the rest but a sent her a flurry of messages that continued until about 4 a.m. -- probably about 5 in all, saying things like "you've hurt me so bad and accused me of being a monster when you're the monster. I just want to heal." I woke up early and sent another.

She didn't reply. That was the last time I ever communicated with her.

Since then, she has contacted the counselor that we both saw and told her that she feared for her safety because I hung out with Bob that night. The counselor told me to stay clear of her and that, "she's trying to take you down."

Also, she contacted the police on Father's Day of that year, indicating that I had broken into her online photo account and put pictures of myself online. I spoke with the officer for quite some time, indicating that I did nothing of the sort. We discussed my options -- get a restraining order against her, file harassment charges, or leave it be, and we decided to leave it be.

Borderline breakups are pure drama. Borderline relationships are pure drama. Borderline lives are pure drama -- that's how they get their identity. If you can, steer clear of them -- they'll shorten your lifespan and make your life much more stressful. No fun, long term.