A Letter ...

Dear Don,

In my starting efforts to try and better myself as a person, physically, spiritually and emotionally, it seems clear that I must travel back in time to try and figure out where some of my inner turmoil had begun. I cannot possibly blame you entirely, but there are several issues in my life that can be directly or indirectly traced back to you, our relationship and my avoidance of you after our break-up. Even the house I currently live in can be traced back to you since I started living here with a friend I had made after beginning to hang out at the 247 bar in order to avoid seeing you at Woody's. You were my first real boyfriend, but I don't think in the five years we were together I can actually say that I truly loved you and I realize now that I was nothing more than a possession to you.

I can remember seeing you way back 20-23 years ago in the CSR bar when we were both underage, me with long curly hair sitting alone at the bar and you coming in with your much older boyfriend, your hair spiked in that long forgotten '80s style wearing loud colored shirts to match. We never really spoke, but i thought you were attractive. It was a few years later when you finally came up to me and began talking. I had always been shy but you, being the loud opinionated Italian/Irishman that you were, didn't care. We hung out as friends for a few weeks before we started dating. Little did I know that you were also dating someone else at the time, but you soon broke up with him and started going out with me. I realize now how volitile the relationship was from the get-go, but the weaker part of me was just happy to be in a relationship and that, I realize was my first huge mistake.

This all goes back to 1986. I know that because in the early summer of that year I purchased my first "new" car, a 1987 Chevy Beretta, bright red with tinted windows and custom pinstripe done by a childhood friend who did detail work in a car dealership. I know that because late in that summer, we had our first physical altercation and, as materialistic as the reason may have been, I had my true first opportunity to bag the relationship, but instead I made my 2nd huge mistake. I allowed you to manipulate me and allow me to blame myself.

We were down in Wildwood staying with your family and you, me and your two cousins, Julie and (I forget the older sister's name) went out barhopping. We all got alittle drunk and I really don't remember what started it all, but I got so pissed off at you that I flicked my cigarette at you and it bounced off your cheek. You came at me with such force and anger that I was sure an all-out brawl would ensue. But, as luck would have it, the bartender behind me saw the entire thing, leaped over the bar and grabbed you before you got to me. Ironically, it was you to be escorted out of the place while your cousins tried to calm me. I kept trying to tell your cousins that you were doing something to my new car, but they assured me that they knew you better than me and that you were just outside cooling off. They tried to get me to dance, but I had to see for myself.

We left the bar and headed for the parking lot. There you were, standing beside my car. You immediately started to apologize for overreacting, but I ignored you and carefully circled my car, scanning every inch of the bright red surface. It didn't take me long to notice the broken antennae and soon after the huge 2 foot long scratch going down the center of my hood. I remember staring at you and asking you point blank what had happened? I remember you trying to tell me that this was how you found the car. I remember your cousins telling you that that was bullshit; that I was just inside the bar telling them that you were out here doing something to my new car. Yet you kept denying it.

The ride back to the beachhouse was silent until you finally screamed out from the back seat that yes...it was you. I simply said, "I know" and continued driving.

Back at the beach house, the rest of your family was sound asleep. You apologized again and said that you would pay for the damages. You asked me if I was leaving. I wanted to so bad, just pack my car and drive home right then and there, never to lay eyes on you again. But it was also 3 in the morning and I had been drinking, so instead I continued to give you the silent treatment. You got up and walked out of the house and headed down to the beach.

Part of my silent treatment had been to keep my anger in check. The last thing I wanted was to raise royal hell with you and wake the entire family. So I followed you out to the beach, readying my self for battle. Instead, after yelling and screaming out there under a blanket of stars, I was suddenly on my knees crying and begging for YOUR forgiveness for being MAD. I still don't know how you managed to do that to me, but I remember you coming over to me and giving me a hug and, thinking about it still so vividly in my mind, I know now that that was your whole intention, to manipulate me into believing that my actions IN the bar led YOU to do damage to my car.

Over the next several months, I started to lose my longtime friends. Not so much lose them than give them up for you and YOUR friends, people I had nothing in common with. My waking hours were either spent at work (where you called me several times a day to make sure I was actually there) or your place. I stood by and watched my life slowly deteriorate and become your's. Our weekend nights out at woody's started fairly early and ended early because you had the need to pound back 3 or 4 shots of Jack Daniels within the first hour of being there and, in most cases, by 10:30 or 11 we were back at your place lying in bed and watching tv. You would get a 2nd wind and roll a joint or smoke a bowl. I would take acouple hits and roll over and go to sleep.

When you DID manage to make it through the night, we often went to the Bike stop. Several times there I would leave to go to the bathroom only to return and see you in a darkened corner feeling someone up. And what do I do? I turn the other cheek.

When I actually came across someone from my past, a guy I had a couple dates with a few years earlier, you were in the bathroom. We were upstairs at woody's and I was talking to this guy and you came out of the bathroom, grabbed the beer I was holding for you and stood there between us, defiantly. You stared at him and you looked back at me. "Who's this?"

"This is an old friend of mine, Dave. Dave, this is my boyfriend, Don." Dave reached out his hand, but you looked down at it and then back up at him and didn't say a word. I remember the look Dave had given you, but more importantly, the look he gave me. "Chris, it was good running into you. Good luck." And with that, he turned away.

"What did he mean by that?" You demanded.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Why so rude?" I shot back.

"How do you know him?"

"I dated him...when I was 18!" I turned and walked away, livid. "Thanks for being such an ass to someone I haven't seen in 4 years."

"What? Do you want him again?"

I stopped right in the middle of the flight of stairs leading back down to the first floor. People trying to get by grumbled, but I ignored them. I Looked back at you and suddenly opened up with both barrels: "Let me get this right! I have to sit back and watch you flirt with complete strangers and feel them up and make out with them in the basement of the bikestop, but I come across an old friend and something has to be going on between us??? You're a fucking idiot!!!"

"You tell'm, girlfriend." someone in the passing crowd shouted. Who knows, it could've been Dave himself, but it was enough to make me see that I was causing a seen. I turned and continued down to the first floor and out of the bar.

You apologized and insisted on going back to Dave and apologizing to him, but I wouldn't allow it. I never saw or spoke to Dave again.

***cybernote to Dave DiPietro: it's been about 18 years since this occurred, but please accept MY apologies for having such an asshole as a boyfriend.

Another episode that clearly stands out in my mind, Don, was my best friend's wedding. We were about a year into our relationship and by this time, Mark had been another childhood friend that I let go because of you. But I still lived at home, across the street from him and was invited to his wedding, which so happened to be taking place down the street from your house. I stopped over to see you before heading to the wedding and told you I would see you later in the day. Instead I called you from the reception and told you that I was going to go to a party at Mark's parents' (across the street from where I grew up and lived). You grumbled and bitched and asked what were you supposed to do, just sit home and wait? I explained that I hadn't seen these people in a long time and I wanted to catch up. None of them knew that I was gay, let alone seeing another guy and I planned on keeping it that way.

So there we were, 15 or 20 of us out infront of Mark's house, laughing and drinking and remembering the good times. Then, from across the street, I heard my mother calling. It was after midnight and she was quite upset. "Don's on the phone. What the hell is he doing calling at this hour?" I picked up the phone and you were already screaming at me. "Where are you?"

"I'm at Mark's house. Why?"

"No you're not. I drove down your street and didn't see you."

"How can you miss us? We're the only house on the block with a bunch of bridesmaids in ugly dresses hanging out in the front yard."

"Well I'm going out for a DRINK!"

"Go then. I hanging out with my friends."

The next morning you called telling me you broke your wrist because you punched a wall after I made you so upset. I later found out that you punched a wall in the adult bookstore, putting a hole right through the drywall.

Don, we were in a bad relationship for over five years and for nearly four of those, I wanted out, but didn't know how. It had finally ended though on the day before Easter. I was in the middle of a project and was getting frustrated with myself and you wanted to go out. I said that I wasn't going to go out, but you were getting angry with me. I finally said, "Look, this just isn't working. Go out. Have a good time and leave me to what I have to do."

"Are you breaking up with me?"

"C'mon. I'm not happy. You're not happy."

"Fine!" And you hung up. I was actually relieved. It wasn't the reaction I was expecting, but at least another fight wasn't taking place. By this time all of our conversations were nothing more than arguements in different tones. But a few minutes later, you called me back. I figured it was going to be more apologizing and trying to work things out, something that I had no intention of doing. Not this time. I've apologized enough for your actions. Instead, you said the strangest thing: "I just want you to know that, if anyone asks, I'm telling them that this break up is YOUR fault."

"Fine, Don." I replied, exhausted. "Tell them whatever you want. I really don't care anymore."

I thought that that was the end of it, but was I in for a rude awakening. You once told me: "Don't ever cheat on me. I will find out." It was a strange comment to make, considering that, although our sex life was all but completely gone after the first 2 years, I was completely monogomous as I am in any relationship I'm in. But, Don, no truer words were spoken. For months and even YEARS after our break-up, I was running into people you had fooled around with behind MY back. Thinking back, I can remember you taking secretive phone calls in the other room.

So there you have it, Don. You were right. I WILL find out. I knew long before this letter was written. I have avoided you for a few years after our break-up because I was afraid that I would just out and out KILL you right there on sight. I started hanging out on the other side of town, met a new group of people. Kept our relationship secret and from there, through a series of paths, both good and bad; right and wrong, here I am, writing to you...FINALLY...after 16 years, to tell you how much I hate you. I hate you for manipulating me. I hate you for cheating on me. I hate you for making me give up all the friends of my youth. I hate you for so many things, but most of all, Don...I hate you for making me hate MYSELF.

I hate myself for ALLOWING you to manipulate me
I hate myself for ALLOWING you to make me give up my friends
I hate myself for KNOWING all along, on some level, that you were cheating on me and not nipping it in the bud.
I hate myself for PUTTING UP with this shit for five years.
I hate myself for WAITING 16 YEARS to tell you this
I hate myself for BURYING it only to let it surface and repeat itself in all but ONE reltationship since. And in that one relationship in which it didn't happen...
...I hate myself for THINKING that a relationship couldn't actually BE any other way.

Don, it wasn't until just this very second that I realized how much I actually buried my emotions where you were concerned. I write this letter and think: my God...did this actually HAPPEN to me?

I don't think that I will EVER see true happiness. Not in this lifetime. Time does not heal all wounds. In many cases, it just scabs over and scars, leaving you with a neverending reminder of the pain that once was. It's been 16 years and the hate, although buried deep down, is still there and is still strong. I will always carry the burden of having known you and will, more importantly, always carry the burden of losing my identity and my self worth.

People tell me I'm bitter and it's a name I have given myself. I am currently (as stated in the opening of this letter to you) trying to overcome it. Although you will never see this letter, it's out there as proof that I am finally letting it out. I am accepting my part in that mess of a relationship and that I am tired of granting your request of taking blame for our break-up. Although it's been a long time, it was a good 2 years after our break-up that I was able to break free of the whole "Don and Chris" label. Whenever people asked what happened, I bit my tongue and simply said things just didn't work out. It wasn't until much more recently that I am able to say that a good deal of who I am today was because of the emtional abuse that you put me through, but I still left everything vague. Now it's out, at least a couple of key examples of the MANY.

So, Don, it's been a long time coming, but I'm here to tell you that I will not let you win in the end. You have manipulated me for too long and I'm just seeing that now. It's going to stop. So let me just give you one last piece of advise before I forever put this behind me and try to finally make pease with myself and get on with my life.

That little piece of advice: GO FUCK YOURSELF!

Chris