Dangerous Men -- by Anne Shier

My name is Marisa Smith. I grew up in a rather quiet suburban neighbourhood in the city of Bowmanville, where families kept to themselves; children played carefree games with each other and there was no fear whatsoever of evil invading our lives. In fact, as children, we had no idea what the word “evil” meant. I grew up in this fairy-tale environment practically sequestered from the outside world; it protected us from harm and nurtured us. As children, we felt completely safe. We played from morning till night, usually outside, with complete abandon, and we never had the slightest fear that anything bad could ever happen. It’s something that stays with you even as you grow older, become an adult, move away and maybe get married (or just stay single).

To this day vivid images pop into my head of the idyllic life we led there in the village of Elmsford. We played games like hide and seek; we went fishing for tadpoles (“pollywogs,” as we called them) in the small creek near our house; we endlessly romped through nearby farmers’ fields; we went on long hikes with a picnic lunch; we built forts in our backyards out of old blankets and we built tree houses whenever there was a suitable tree to use for this purpose.

        When it was time to come home for dinner, all my mother had to do was to call for me out our back door and I would come running. Of course by dinnertime I was filthy from head to toe, especially during summertime. That meant bath time was a regular daily ritual, and by the time I was 10, bathing daily had become a habit, and I usually had a warm bubble bath whether I really needed it or not.

Life as a child was very good to me. My parents were loving and kind people who welcomed my friends into our house whenever I wanted.

         Things went on like this for a long, long time—at least it seemed like a long time to me. When I entered puberty (at age 13) and was just starting to change physically (whether I realized it or not), my life started to change too. Now I was becoming more aware of my own body and of boys. Funny, I had never really thought I was all that different from boys. After all, I was very much a tomboy, to the extent that I would rather play ball with the boys than dolls with the girls. To be sure, I had my share of friends—girls and boys—and making friends with either sex was never a problem for me. I really liked having lots of friends. Eventually I learned that people can be friends to varying degrees: there was the one true best friend to whom I could confide my wishes and dreams; there was the “fair weather” friend I could depend on only when things were going well in my life and there was the person who just pretended to be my friend but was really a back-stabbing enemy in disguise.

Through painful experience I had learned the subtle differences between these different types of friends, and I thought I had learned my lessons well—so much for being an “expert” in this realm. I found out later I still had a hell of a lot of learning to do regarding human nature. Human beings are capable of doing truly great things, but, as I was about to discover, they are also capable of dark deeds that can hurt people and practically ruin their lives. This was a painful lesson for me to learn, but I eventually learned it well. It’s just too bad that we all have to learn through painful life experience who we can trust to be a true friend and who we should never trust.

When I became a young adult (I was age 20), I naively thought I was now a grownup and could make all my own decisions. To wit, I had been dating a young man close to my own age (we were only three or four months apart) for the last three years. His name was Keith. During the time we dated, he treated me very well. We regularly went out to see movies; we had many casual meals together and a few really nice ones; he even bought me nice little gifts or flowers occasionally and he was charming, gentle, nice and kind to me. I really believed he was my “Prince Charming” and that I was extremely lucky to have found him on practically my first attempt at finding a mate. What I did not know about Keith was that he was also capable of being “Prince Charming” to other young women when I wasn’t around. He could switch his charming façade on and off at will, it seemed.

You might want to know: When did I find out about this other side of Keith’s personality? Well, I was unlucky enough to find out about his sexual adventures with some of my “gal pals” quite by accident. One of my closest girlfriends, Trish, admitted to me one day that she had slept with my boyfriend once or twice because she was pissed off with me (for some reason I didn’t know about). But she also did it with him because Keith had exercised the same charm with her that he’d always displayed with me whenever he met a woman he found attractive. In other words, he seduced her. I only found out about her indiscretion because, one day, when she was pissed off with me yet again, she decided to tell me all about their date and their subsequent romp in the hay. I didn’t know who I hated more at that moment, him for being a philandering jerk-off or her for being nothing but a cheap tart!

I knew I could no longer trust Keith, yet by that time we were already engaged! I knew I should no longer consider marrying him or expect to be happy with him. I also knew Trish was now history as my best girlfriend—I couldn’t trust her anymore either. At this point, I was starting to wonder if I would ever be able to trust any boyfriend or best girlfriend I might have in the future again. Life was definitely not like my idyllic childhood had been; it was full of deception, seduction and betrayal.

If I had known what was going on behind my back all this time, perhaps I could have armed myself appropriately. As it was, all I wanted to do now was to get hold of a revolver out of its gun locker and threaten those two traitors. If I could have killed them both and gotten away with first-degree murder, I’m sure I would have been sorely tempted. To my credit, I restrained my desire to put a bullet between Keith’s eyes and then between those two balloons Trish liked to call breasts.

  However, nothing less would have satisfied me completely. That’s when I realized that any idealism I’d had about a marriage to my Prince Charming was just a dream, an illusion with no substance in reality. And then, just a moment after having these murderous thoughts, the absurdity of the situation struck me—that I was definitely jealous of Trish’s more-than-ample bosom. No wonder Keith had found her so seductive! I started to laugh; I figured I should forget all about them. They truly deserved each other.

 When I became a more mature adult (at age 30), I finally began to think I had life’s calamities figured out. All I had to do was meet a handsome, wealthy man, seduce him into making love to me and have a baby on my own. Why not? It had become obvious that I was not going to settle down and get married. I had been deceived, seduced and betrayed multiple times at this point in my life, and I was getting thoroughly fed up with the crap that was piling up at my door. Surely I deserved better than this. When I met a man I thought was even remotely like a Prince Charming, I promised myself to first get professional help before I would allow myself to be bamboozled by any such man again. After all, a psychiatrist wouldn’t be allowed to lie to me; a male in such a position would have to be truthful to me, as a matter of legal ethics, if for no other reason. I wouldn’t have expected anything less as his patient.

And that was how I met Clay, my husband-to-be. I sure didn’t expect that to happen.

But as fate would have it, just as we were preparing to get married, something weird happened. A woman I thought was his ex-wife suddenly appeared on the scene. However, she claimed to be his legal wife, not his ex-wife, making Clay a potential bigamist. I was truly shocked! How could he do this to me on the eve of our wedding day? How could he even consider marrying some other woman when he wasn’t even divorced or widowed? I could not understand this at all. In addition, he and I had been sharing expenses and had bought several assets together, including a house. He had access to all my debit and credit cards, bank accounts, RRSPs and so on, and he took full advantage of the free access he had to my entire financial portfolio. If he left me now, I would be well and truly broke and would probably be forced to declare bankruptcy! Why had I allowed myself to trust any man again, especially someone like Clay? I wanted to kick myself. I should have known better than to trust any man again after what had happened between Keith and Trish. But we all get lonely, don’t we? Damn and double damn! It was entirely my own fault because I had not even had the sense to have him checked out (you know, a credit check) before deciding to get involved with him.
That’s what really sensible women do these days. They meet someone they would consider eligible for marriage and then have a private investigator check him out for various things: personal and work history, personal health and most of all, personal attachments (like wives or ex-wives and children). If he passes the “test,” then a sensible woman may think about getting involved with the man she’s chosen. Perhaps she will make a commitment or perhaps she won’t. But at least she knows what she’s getting herself into. She will not allow herself to be used, abused and taken advantage of. She will not allow her heart to be used as a doormat by the man of her dreams. She will protect the quality of her life and her future by ensuring that she doesn’t get involved with a man whose sole interest is his own life and happiness.

 Finally, when I became a middle-aged adult (at age 40), I had to decide what I truly wanted in life. When I was given a wonderful opportunity to have a baby son, I realized that I loved my son above anyone else in the whole world. I knew then I didn’t need anyone else, that I would never need anyone else. My son was my whole world, and I would do anything for him. God knows, he is not perfect (who is?), but I love him with all my heart. It occurred to me that having a marital relationship (or a common-law one) with a devious man was not the vehicle that was going to make me happy. I guess I’d been brainwashed to think so because of the idyllic family life I’d had with my parents in that idyllic neighbourhood in Elmsford.

I have managed to make myself happy by not getting involved with self-centered men who think only of themselves. I have also managed to steer clear of those destructive relationships that I knew were bad for me; in fact, they’d be bad for any woman. Because of these things, I truly consider myself lucky to be alive, healthy and thriving in this modern world.

copyright - Anne Shier, 2013, all rights reserved, published by Authorhouse, Bloomington, Indiana, USA