A Haunting Memory
Since it’s spooky week with Halloween tomorrow, it makes sense to share a chilling story! Well, a chilling story for me at the very least. This DTR (defining the relationship) will go down in history as the most memorable. So memorable that it still haunts me to this day! But I get ahead of myself. I can’t start this story with him at the beginning, because that would be a book rather than a blog. I can, however, start at the beginning of this haunting memory when The Rescuer and I were about to meet up for a drink.
I was on and off again with The Rescuer. Not a great start and everyone who has gone through this knows it’s over before it begins, but try telling that to deeply rooted feelings! On this particular evening, we were meeting to have yet another DTR and given how things had been going with us lately, I walked in believing things were back on.
Wrong.
I sat at a table near the large wall of windows that overlooked the River Thames in London. No surprise, he was 30 minutes late. Londoners are typically late (including yours truly) because of public transit or poor planning, but this was not a good start to a very fateful evening.
He finally arrived in a flurry, but all smiles and big hugs. After we caught up, he launched into a monologue. Those many, many words were the opposite of what I expected— "I’m unsure,” “You mean so much to me but…,” “God said…” (yes, the classic God told me to do this excuse).
“This went on until he finally said the typical statement, “It’s not that I don’t want to be with you, it’s just not the right timing.”
Timing? What does that even mean? How can that be an excuse for the past year of flirting, seeing each other multiple times a week, even him blocking other guys from getting to know me?”
As my mind started trying to readjust to the unexpected from The Rescuer, I remember trying not to cry. Don’t show him weakness. But I was angry. He had wasted my time again! And while I unleashed some words of my own on him I remember someone bumping into my chair. The place we were at wasn’t busy, so it was weird that someone bumped into me, but I was too focused on the subject at hand. My mind was swirling with emotions to even care who overheard our conversation.
We got to a point where we were just going in circles, so I got up, grabbed my bag, and left. As I walked back to Waterloo station, I remember feeling like I couldn’t hold the tears back anymore. The floodgates had opened and my head felt like a helium balloon swelling with painful thoughts! I was all blotchy and sniffly by the time I got to the station.
I quickly joined the crowd of people soullessly staring at the train time board. I had a couple of minutes to grab something comforting and warm before my train. So, I nipped to Starbucks to get a peppermint tea. I could tell my face displayed devastation because the barista looked at me in a way that was full of compassion. I dug into my bag for my wallet and that is when my stomach dropped.
“ My wallet was gone! I started to panic-search in hopes I would find it, but it was most definitely gone. ”
I looked up at the barista and as the floodgates opened again, I whimpered, “Someone stole my wallet.” He sympathetically said, “Just take the tea!”
So, with my on-the-house drink, I slowly walked out of Starbucks unsure of what to do next. I still had my phone so quickly opened it to research cancelling my credit cards. And that’s when I saw notification after notification that my bank cards had been used. I opened my banking app and sure enough, the thieves had plowed through most of my funds within the hour!
My cards were locked, I had no cash, no way of getting home, and no identity—my UK visa, Oyster card (public transport card) and Canadian driver’s license were also in my wallet.
“It was now 11pm at night and I felt trapped. No one lived close enough to walk to, and in my very vulnerable state and people-pleasing tendencies, I didn’t want to wake anyone up by calling.
There was only one person that I knew was awake and close enough to help. So, I swallowed my pride and called The Rescuer.”
Is it every man’s dream to save a woman?
I only ask because I’ve never seen someone swoop in faster than The Rescuer (the name doesn’t need much explanation). Though he hurt me more times than I could name, in a very twisted way I knew he cared for me. He stood with me as I called my Canadian bank, UK bank, and the embassy to report everything stolen. I could tell he was concerned and the only other feeling I had besides panic was heightened dislike for him. Every time he looked at me with sympathy, I gave him a glare. I didn’t want his help, but I needed his help. So, I adapted the best I could.
He then waited with me as I made a police report (needed to report my UK visa stolen). The timing of theft is never convenient, but I was supposed to leave the country on a work trip in a week and with no visa, I wasn’t sure I could get back into the country. Just another item to add to the emotional roller coaster I was on. While my emotions were raging and I was trying my best to report and cancel all my bank cards, The Rescuer withdrew £200 and gave it to me to help me get through the next couple of days while I sorted things out with the bank.
“Do you see my predicament? His care always drew me back in, no matter how many times he hurt me. When he handed me the cash, I was so mad at him that I remember thinking, ‘It’s the least you could do!’
Contrary to my thoughts, out of my mouth simply came, ‘Thank you.’”
After what felt like an eternity of phone calls and reports, I went to see when the next train was available for me to get home. And my “luck” kept coming, because I had just missed the last train with my stop on it. Now I really had no way home! At that time, I was living so far outside the city that an Uber/taxi would have been costly and I wasn’t sure they would take cash.
So, The Rescuer came to… the rescue. We boarded a 20-minute train to his house where he then drove me over 40 minutes home at 1am in the morning. That was the most silent, awkward, and longest 60-minute trip I have ever experienced.
The Rescuer and I didn’t speak much after that night. That was until we hosted an 11-week course at church together the following week. *big sigh* I really wanted to bail, and I came very close to doing so, but I didn’t want our mess to become our friends’ mess. Oh, did I not mention? We had kept everything a secret from our friends! One of my worries was if they found out how poorly The Rescuer had treated me over the past year, it would mess up our friendship group. No shocker here, but the secrecy was at his request.
Secrecy can be fun, but not in this case.
I did, eventually, get all my money back, though the police never found the thieves. Not that I expected them to since theft is a common occurrence in London. And I was still able to take my work trip, though I had to sit in “airport jail” for 30 minutes while they verified that my UK visa had been stolen and that I did indeed had the approval to work in the UK.
“To this day, I still panic if I can’t find my wallet or phone immediately. Hence, the haunting.
The biggest lesson I learnt was to have a little more self-respect. I cut myself off from my friends’ support when things went down with The Rescuer, and maybe they could have told me ages before that things weren’t healthy. Either way, that was the last time I hid relationships from those important to me. ”
As for The Rescuer, there are more stories to come. So, we’ll just leave it at, “to be continued…”
Editor’s Note: I was young and naive and highly insecure, or else I wouldn’t have let an on-and-off again relationship drag out as long as it did and I wouldn’t have continued being friends with The Rescuer after everything that happened. But we did remain friends. Mainly because I was a massive people pleaser and we had the same friendship group. That friendship group was my family while living abroad. I didn’t want to lose them! In hindsight I now know, they were all mature enough to be part of the mess and care for the both of us.
