september 2008

Jakob has nothing to offer under the charming surface. It's a thought which crosses my mind for the first time in september. Because many conversations end this way either that he quickly changes the subject as soon as I want to talk about something profound or he ignores all I have said and leaves it unanswered. Whenever he is in lack of knowledge or loses interest he change the subject and talks about love instead, as the perfect exit strategy. I realize that this is what he does best: talking about our love, his feelings and desire for me and creating romantic memories of the future. It works fine in summer but by september I start to notice that  he has an obvious lack of interest in my life or other people when we talk. Even if I start telling about my life the conversation always ends  that we are talking about him. It is his illness we are talking about, it is his childhood we are talking about, it is his behavior patterns and causes which we discuss, it is his whims which determine whether we talk or not. It is his tears which need to be dried again and again. It is his emotional dolor that is in the center of every conversation.It is his complaints about everything and everyone to be on the topic because they raise questions. His deficits dominate everything. There are non-reflected, one-sided and completely ego-oriented depictions of his life in which he punishes verbally everyone who he secretly considers as dangerous because those people just know too much of the genuine truth about him. There are sad stories that reach my heart.  He blames his father for his weakness, his brothers for their despicable normal lifes, he badmouths about friends or relationships from the past, but the most cruel person, however, was his cold heartless mother. She is the central figure in many discussions and the central theme of his life. Jakobs relationship to his mother is not solved and serves him to this day as a welcome excuse and reason for all emotional cruelty he causes particularly to women.
He often lays next to me and I feel fascination and loathing about the downside of his skin in equal parts. Jakob is unpredictable.Even for himself. The longer we live together the more he loses control about his emotions. Now and then there are ugly moments in his speech. So extremely charming he is, so extremely angry he can get. Often enough it just needs a thoughtless remark of mine and he feels provoked  beyond all measure. And the same Jakob who was just charming transformes in a nasty asshole from one second to another whoinsults and mocks me. Jakob is very easy to provoke and each talk is a balancingact. The slightest hint of criticism is provocative. Inquiries to his stories are provocative. Too little attention is provocative. Pursue own needs is provocative.Slightest demands on him are provocative and he considers them as pressure. Our conversations get more explosive, also because I finally want to have his papers and his stuff here from denmark so he can take care of a job. I find his lack of interest in his papers/things disturbing and ask now more often. He presents  excuses and explanations on some notes. 

"He called 6.16. He is not coming before next friday. He will send you the papers (fax to your work)...fine for the peace between us but I am disappointed and a bit angry. I will call him tonight and tell him how i feel. He needs your fax number."

I don't receive anything at work but finally, he announces happily that his friend definately comes next weekend and will bring everything. I am relieved and another week goes by in which Jakob spends his time with doing nothing. I wonder a lot about his inactivity. Every impulse needs to come from the outside before he moves. He plays the helpless, dependent, like a little boy. My observations about it are answered with fierce indignation. Then the weekend is there. One night before he assures me again that he talked to his friend, that his friend just hit the road and can be expected next day in the afternoon. I come back from an event the next day and look forward to meet his friend. As I enter the apartment Jakob is not there and I find some notes and a letter on the floor. The notes say that his friend doesn't come. Neither the stuff. Neither the papers. The letter is a masterful attempt at reconciliation. It contains explanations about his behaviour and excuses which later turn out to be just more lies.

"(...) if this had been one year ago i would have run. As i always run. But i am too old to run and i am way too much in love with you to not stay and fight. When i say stay that means of course it depends on you. i have no rights no part in your appartment. All is up to you. I can't force you to do anything. Neither will i try.

(...) i didn't let you choose. My lies forced you into a decision which I am sure you would like to be without. I brought lies into what could have been the most wonderful thing in my life. maybe yours too. i don't know. saying I'am so sorry for all this doesn't help you at all.  there's so many things which is screaming to be said loud but which is staying inside me.

Don't you think i so much want us to be what this was supposed to be: Love. Not lies and feeling of being uncertain. You told me yesterday that you know so much about me. No you don't. You may know some of my lies, some of the things i did but i have to tell you much more one day. if we have the time. it's like peeling off layer after layer. And it's wrong because what i really want is you to see the core. the real me. not having to wait until you finally get there.

I have dealt with lies all my life. From my parents, from my brothers, i have used lies to hide, used lies to prevent myself from being naked - helpless. I never trusted anyone. Yes, i believed their words but i never never trusted them enough to be who i really am. i am probably a failure. Looking back at my life is painful. the decisions i made haunts me now. Coming back with full force. You know, i never really did live the citizen life: tomorrow. it was now. always. I didn't plan retirement or what to do in order to get a career. I took the jobs i needed to be able to do what i wanted. to get food. a roof over my head. buying clothes etc. etc. once i tried to live a normal life. i had to. with B. i had to adknowledge my responsibility. And i did. when it ended i could again feel free. be able to breath. Don't get me wrong: i loved her. I cared for her. but the life as a family man...it just didn't work. i was bored senseless.

I thought i was made for this life of not taking responsibility. I burned so many bridges. Surviving the (...) didn't really change me that much except for one thing. I swore to myself that i would not let anyone push me around like (...) did. It runs deep inside of me. Very very deep. That is why i sometimes get so aggressive when you ask me. and it is so fucking wrong of me because all you do is to try to help me.

(...) we are alike and we are different. I have never been in control of my life, neighter did i wanted that control. I set some rules back then and i lived after them. i never wanted to hurt people. i didn't want to end up like a criminal or a drug addict/alcoholist. and i sticked to those rules after some insecure steps.

(...) the price i have to pay now is high. that my way of living might prevent me from getting a good job which will suit yours. It's true that i worked many places with PC's, software and so on. But it also is part of the picture that i have "holes" where i worked with trashy jobs which had nothing to do with computers and that doesn't looks good on a paper.

Returning to norway even that i thought i would only be for a few months was not the right thing to do. the monster was still a monster and I couldn't find anything there which i haven't already searched for. I knew this guy, (...) is his name, and he was starting up this PC maintanance/repair stuff. It was all very very shitty. no company name, all black-money and no papers signed. But i needed the money. it terminated pretty fast and then i was without a job. i called the psych. hospital and they were happy to take me back, but i was pretty much burned out at that time. I didn't liked the job anymore. and it showed. The last payment (the one (...) took from my creditcard) i knew it would be the last one. not because i had to see you but because i was so drained. the head of the section where i worked told me straight out: this is not good. You need a break. it was true. i was lost in you and i was dealing with that fucking monster. But i couldn't tell you. I felt like a complete failure. i didn't trusted you enough to tell you. it was wrong because only by telling you could i give you a choice. i choosed for you. it's a crime doing such thing to a person who loves you. have i told you the whole story from the beginning you would maybe have chosed to back out. it would have been the worst thing in my life but at least i knew you had the truth and i wasn't decieving you.

(....)"

The letter sounds pretty reasonable, even honest, right ? 

Forget it, it contains 80% lies !!    (see previous chapters)

He plays and twists your mind the way he needs to twist it in order to get what he wants.

Anger about the fraud is the only sensation. Anger is a clear feeling. I am running out of the apartment. I know him well enough to know where he goes. Rain is pouring down. I find him sitting on a bench, crouched down, a picture of personified misery. I sit next to him and we just sit in silence. Soaking wet and half an hour later, he still doesn't say anything and just keeps staring into the rain. For the first time in our relationship I scream at him. All he does is quietly gazing at the dark and nodding in shame. His composure is even worse. Screaming  the only alternative. I run home and let him sit in the rain. At home I start to dig in panic in his clothes in search of hidden things and new lies. I find them in his passport. His age is wrong.He told me he was 38 years old. According to  his passport he is  43 years old. More distrust. Panic. Sometime he comes home and tells me new stories. He admits the lie about "my friend will come and bring all my stuff". But now he accuses his brother. He says it was agreed back then that his brother was supposed to take care of his furniture and books and did not do it. He accuses him that he let the things rotten and blames him for destruction of his books and keeping his book shelf. Then he admits to have lied about his age. He says that he only lied because his wife told him to do so in order to have "better chances". I ask him if he doesn't have an own opinion. "Blame it to her" is his answer. We must have propitiate but there is uncertainty in everything he says now. I want proof for all the other things he has said.Who are his friends? I want names and faces. What is his education? I want to see papers. What is his attitude toward his wife? I want a clear statement. Who is he? I want to see the birth certificate. He promises to provide everything.

D.