This time of year is always hard.
It was hard before November 1998. But in the years since, I’ve only been reminded how fragile I can be, especially this time of year.
I try to remember to live in the present because I have a happy life. I try to remember that because I am warm and safe and loved now– that is the reason that the past can become so vibrant in the forefront of my mind. That is the reason I can explore traumas in small doses now.
I get angry because Bill got away with it. I get angry because I’ll never get an apology. That’s all I want. A simple apology. Forget jail or any actual punishment. An apology is all I want.
But that’s not how predators work.
I ended up in Willowbrooke in 2016 because Donald Trump’s cavalier, careless, predator attitude toward women– his red hair and stocky build even– reminded me of Bill. I was worried for our country, yes, but even more, I was reminded of another ambitious redhead I knew once upon a time. In the years since, the comparisons have died down because Bill is way smarter than Donald Trump.
But it was at Willowbrooke in 2010 that I realized Bill had been a predator all along. That my perspective had been way skewed all those years. I thought I was in love with him before that. The only reason I turned down his non-proposal proposal the week before I met Jared in person was because I was already in love with Jared. I was in love enough with Jared even before I met him that it was worth it to me to hedge my bets against five years’ worth of experience in Bill’s world. I didn’t know what love was until my Jared came along.
Bill tried to call me, once, after I sent that email to his work email that March of 2010, the week I sent it. He never tried to call again.
And he responded via email three times between 2010 and 2014, asking for various legal opinions. Kept it strictly on topic.
I sent him a copy of the blog post I wrote about it all a while ago, via FB messenger. I assume he blocked me after that, even though we weren’t friends on FB anyway. I haven’t checked because it doesn’t matter. I sent it for closure, not for response.
I know other attorneys for getting legal advice.
Jared reminds me often that professional success does not equal a happy life. I have no idea about Bill’s personal life anymore, but I do know that I got the better end of the deal, regardless. No amount of money could buy my current level of happiness.