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Sundrop: March 2022

I made the decision one morning while I was hanging washing to dry on the airer in my dining room. The dining room mainly holds things for storage and my clothes drying rack. I am yet to finish decorating the house, I’ve only been here for a couple of months.

Right now, it’s wallpapered with something that looks like it’s been up for forty plus years and was never changed. I believe the last tenant was a smoker from the general discoloration in the rooms. There isn’t an actual dining table. I don’t have one of those. Maybe I should get one.

Then an idea hit me out of nowhere but made the most sense of anything in my long miserable existence.

Cole.

I should contact him and ask him out.

I should just do it! Part of me had been waiting for him to reach out to me because isn’t that what men are supposed to do when they like you? When they are interested in you? I’ve speculated most of my adult life on whether he liked me romantically? Sexually? As more than just friends? I’ve always been scared to find out.

I had my most recent brush with death, something that happens often. It was a grizzly accident involving a six-foot five rapist. I did manage to kill him but not before he busted up a rib or two and broke a couple of fingers on my left hand. I decided that maybe life is short, and I don’t have a huge amount of time left to ponder such things.

The last guy I dated was an emotionally unavailable, manipulative, gaslighting little shit. Emphasis on “little.” He had fucked me a few times and left me hanging around. Tried to make me chase after him by applying generalised manipulative tactics like giving me the silent treatment and hoping to what? Make me jealous?

Jealousy is one of the many feelings I do not and cannot process. I understand these feelings and emotions in theory but not in practice. Brain damage from childhood abuse and neglect causes things within the brain to shut down, like empathy. So those tactics I know, because I do them naturally, and much better than he did. Trying to gaslight me and use my non-existent empathy against me? Don’t make me laugh.

So, after not getting what I wanted from him, I walked away. Which is a shame because he was pretty and had a lot of potential as a play partner in bed. I do not like working for or chasing after my meal though. He made me feel bored. I don’t like feeling bored. Apathy is dangerous for someone like me. When I get bored, I become destructive.

Still, that failed dating endeavour did what it always did and made me think of Cole again.

I had been so convinced that he would have gotten in touch with me. When my abusive as fuck relationship with Graham fell apart and the police were involved, it was a messy ending. But I had expected Cole to contact me, at the very least for him to ask me if I was ok. There was nothing, from no one. I didn’t care too much about the others, but him. Him, I did expect more from.

So, the idea came to me that random morning of maybe I should reach out to him? It was unexpected and a little thrilling, exciting in a way I only usually felt with blood on my hands.

There was no blood this time, and I had made the decision years ago to never kill him. He was the only name on my ‘safe list.’

I think back to my grandfather, who raised me and is probably the only male role model I ever had. He did give me some advice when it came to men, that I have tried to follow. Not like the advice he gave me on how to not get caught after murdering someone. He had this idea that the best way to get away without leaving any evidence is to commit murder completely naked. That didn’t sound right to me and even at the tender age of eight, I argued back about body hair etc, but he didn’t listen, he believed he was right. A drunken tirade? Perhaps.

Did he commit murder, was he too, a serial killer? Given my proclivities to death and helping people die before their time, it made sense that someone else in my genetic line was similarly inclined. Psychopathy is a wonderful mix of being hereditary and environment based. Nature and nurture indeed.

He was also the one who when I asked what necrophilia was, described it as a “man who makes love to a corpse.”

And I often wonder why I have an unhealthy understanding of love and sex and violence.

However, I do know that he was interviewed by the police during a series of murders that were very well known, and the killer has never been caught. He fit the physical description to a tee, was in the area at the time but was released because they had no actual evidence to hold him on. It wouldn't surprise me if he had been guilty.

For today's purpose that’s not the advice I had been calling on. I, in fact, had never committed a murder naked. Except for that one time. No, I had been wearing a dress, no matter how badly damaged it had been. Or looked more like underwear than a proper dress. It still counts. We don’t think about that time. That time gets put away in the box of difficult traumas and never taken out to be examined.

Back to Cole and my grandfather who may or may not have been a serial killer who got away with murder and now since he died years ago, would never be solved. Good for him.

I aimed to be better though, that he was always encouraging me to do. The only one who did. Of course, that pressure broke me when I was in my teens. At least one person had cared enough to attempt to push me onto greatness.

Anyway, he had said never to chase after any man. That if a man was interested in me, he would pursue me. It is good advice, sage advice that I had listened to throughout my life and was persistently single as a result. The only times I have dated anyone. I pursued them and those are not relationships or people I am proud to say I dated. Those times blew up in my face quite spectacularly. So, I know he was right.

Cole though.

Maybe he just needs some encouragement. It’s gotten to an awkward stage where we were never quite lovers, never dated and yet there was always something between us. Something connecting us. Friends, and always there in each other's lives whether in a direct way or at the very least in the background. We had been in the same high school, but he was older than me, and I never paid attention to anyone, never noticed him at that stage.

High school was a bad time where it was difficult enough to keep my ever-present rage in check and not harm someone fatally. Then we went to college together, that’s how we got to know each other. Then over the years we had ended up working at the same place for a while, then we had ended up hanging out regularly. He was always there, in the background, was he the one at the end of my golden string? I never approached him romantically because I was so sure that if he was interested in me then he would just say so.

Now, I’m thinking that we had to go through all these years and other people before we could be together.

He makes sense to me.

Cole is a fire sign like me; after being involved with mainly water signs I was ready to be with someone more like myself. He was also the only man who has ever matched me in my humour and in the ease, we have with one another. Any other man has made me feel like I must walk on eggshells, yet he has never shied away from who I am as a person. He doesn’t know everything, but I’ve never hid the struggles I’ve had with my mental health. Never fully disclosed them. I can’t.

So, from that day I decided to research him a little, see what he’s up to. I mean, he might be dating someone. I’m a selfish cunt but I won’t wreck a home to take what I want. I may not have the ability to feel empathy, but I try and not actively harm anyone who doesn’t deserve it. Life is hard enough, it’s rough out here and I don’t want to add to that for the average person.

Most people I know are just trying their best. So, I save my shitty behaviour for those who deserve it. Men. I have no issue hurting men because men, in my experience are fucking awful people. I have a lot of fun with men, I like to make them cry and question their existence.

But Cole, I always held him to a different standard.

Cole.

After my injury and the breakdown of that failed dating situationship from hell, I had taken some time off my job. I’m on sick leave thanks to a little chat with my doctor. I’m hoping to get a move from the department I work in to an easier one. I’d love to work in the library so I could be away from the busyness of the office, the seriousness of the role I currently do. The library though, that is my little dream. I had a chat with my manager about it and fingers crossed when I go back, it’ll be a move to a new department.

Right now, I’m at home and enjoying a little peace which is what I need every so often to recharge. Too much dealing with the public drains me. It takes too much to mask and the older I get, the more I feel the mask slipping. I don’t have the energy to maintain it constantly. The mask I wear is more me than I am anymore, nothing about me is real, the mask is though. Yet some part of the mask always remains, no matter how much my sanity slips.

I am a psychopath. I have never been diagnosed as such. I never will be. Psychology has been a hyper fixation of mine since I was able to read. I love studying people, mainly so I can use their weaknesses and vulnerabilities against them. It also allows me to pretend to be whatever I feel will make people acknowledge me as I want them to perceive me, accept that person and mostly, leave me alone.

It works, I think, I hope.

Cole, I think about his goofy, gorgeous arse and know that I have missed him. It almost hurt whatever feelings I do have, my pride maybe that he didn’t immediately come rushing to my side after everything that happened. I wanted him to be there for me, but I didn’t want to have to ask.

For two weeks I checked his social media. I read what he posted, I checked his likes and what he was replying to. Try and gauge what kind of person a now 37 years old Cole was. Was he just another misogynistic prick like all the others? Did he have a girlfriend, fiancé or wife perhaps? Has he had kids? This is how out of the loop I have been. I have no idea what anyone has been up to, and it’s been three years since I last saw and spoke to him. A fucking lot can happen in that time.

He doesn’t seem to have a significant other in his life, there’s no female, or male commenting or liking his posts consistently. There’s no mention of a wedding or kids. He’s made a few posts angrily being outspoken about a convicted rapist being cast in a TV show that he likes. That piques my interest a little bit. Maybe he is different. Maybe he does condemn what Graham did to me. At least, I hope that he’s not still friends with him and has taken what Graham did to me seriously.

That’s the question really and maybe something that has kept me quiet, kept me away. The worry of not being believed.

Eventually, later in the afternoon I created a social media account on a website that I had a few years ago, deleted my old profile. I had been someone who posted everything online from where I was, to what I was eating. Yes, I have always been that annoying kind of person.

Going quiet on social media was mainly because I didn’t want people reaching out to me. Didn’t want to deal with their outrage that their favourite person in the world had been arrested, charged and ultimately not yet convicted of anything because the court system is a fucking joke on how slow it is. I didn’t want to give anyone the opportunity to argue with me, hurl insults or abuse me over it. I just wanted to be left alone.

Graham always said no one would believe me and with how people have sided with him, he was right. No one believed me because I am known to be emotionally unstable, my mental health has always been an issue. No one believed me because he is an amazing liar, skilled and bold. Where I am argumentative, he is confident. Where he is male, I am female. Doomed by the same narrative most people are who dare to file charges of rape against someone.

I didn't even mean to get the police involved and once they did, it snowballed into something I had no control over. I am the child of narcissists and psychopaths, addicts and abusers. We are not fans of the police; we do not contact them, we do not let them inside, we do not speak to them. That is how I was raised, that they are the enemy. That “we” became just me. I am older and alone now, everyone dead and with no one to protect me anymore. Not that anyone ever did. What choice did I have?

I didn’t want the police looking at me too closely either. How could I explain the fact that I am the Rosemond Ripper, and yet also a victim of being raped and abused by my former boyfriend?

I created the profile and added a few people, but no one who is too closely linked to Graham. A friend's ex-husband sent me a friend request very quickly though, how odd. I did always get the feeling he liked me a little too much. Unfortunately, husbands usually do.

I sigh at that and don't reply. He’s not who I am here for. I go to Cole’s page and before I can overthink it, I click “add friend” and I wait.

It’s only minutes before he accepts me. Great, what now?

What the fuck do I say?

I’ve never been that good at flirting. Manipulating men is one thing but flirting with someone I like? I have no idea what to say.

For once, I am stuck but determined to push forward no matter how weird this is going to be. Trying not to overthink it I just type out something simple and hope he replies.

Me: Hey, long time no speak, how are you?

It’s basic because even I can’t do the “I’ve always had a crush on you” at this stage. I’m sure to blurt that out in the least convenient moment though. He’s slow to reply.

Cole: Hey Luna, how are you? I’m good thanks

Polite, seems a little cautious. I suppose I should have expected that, but he’s replied, it’s not a fuck off or a no. I take that as encouragement and desperately think of something to say.

It’s a Thursday afternoon, I know he is most likely working. He was always someone who rarely took time off, as opposed to me who regularly scheduled time off work because I needed it.

I’m not great at making conversation on a basic level, unless there is a purpose to it, something I need from someone. So, this, trying to converse with someone I like because I want to, that leaves me with little to work with. What do people talk about? The weather seems a little too polite, so I just ask something uncomplicated. I need something to open the conversation, to make him talk, get him asking me questions or tell me something I can work with.

I message back, trying desperately to not be too quick. I don’t want to scare him off, not right away at least. There’s plenty of time for that.

Me: I’ve been great. What have you been up to?

I’m not great but I don’t want at this point to tell him exactly how shit things have been.

This is how it starts, messy and a little like pulling teeth but he starts to reply with a little enthusiasm. Then it's like he realises and slows down, then speeds up again, then slows down. Very quickly we start exchanging photographs, simple things like when he asks me about my new tattoos.

Sending the pictures is a great way to chat about something we both have always had an interest in. It’s also a wonderful excuse to send him selfies and make sure that I look extra pretty for him. Remind him that I am hot. He compliments me on the tattoos, on my hair. It’s a good start; he seems interested but is holding back.

It goes like that for a few days but very quickly in the evening, just after three days I get;

Cole: Sundrop, I’m enjoying talking to you, but I am shattered, and work was fucking shit this week, I’ve taken some of my meds to help me sleep to get an early night, so I wanted to say goodnight before I crashed out on you

I smile at my phone and think, I’ve got him. It was never about chasing or playing games, but he was interested. I knew it. Now this may be the start of something amazing.

I get the actual goodnight text a few minutes later,

Cole: Goodnight Luna

And I’m already swept away. I have an issue with becoming obsessed with people. I’ve been obsessed with Cole since that day we first met back at the start of college. I’m at my most dangerous when I’m in love, even if love for me is a made-up thing. It’s like a light switch for me; I must actively turn the switch on.

Once it’s on though, it fucking burns everything in its path and cares little about anything else. It ruins me. I allow it too, because I like being swept away in the magic and chaos of it.

I’d love for someone to love me too though; I never seem to be loved back. Maybe because I end up with likeminded people who are equally as psychotic or God forbid narcissistic, and they aren’t capable of loving me. Or because I don’t know what love is, so I don’t accept love as it is because I don’t recognise it. Either way, Cole will be mine, whether he wants to be or not.

I decide to get an early night too, going to my bed and wrapping up warm in my duvet, my lilac sheets fresh and cosy as I think about what it would be like to be snuggled up with Cole. Would he be warm? I think about whether he’d warm my cold feet up against his body.

I haven’t slept in a bed with anyone since Graham and he is not an experience I want to repeat. Cole though, it’s COLE. My Cole and now he might very well become my Cole .

I look over the messages from him on my phone before going to sleep.

For once, I sleep well. I wake up in the morning, no alarm set because I don’t have to get up early now so no point pushing it. My body needs rest now, so I allow it as much as I can.

I pick up my phone and can’t help the teenage girl-like squeal that comes from me when I see the message he has sent me at 6.02am.

Cole: Good morning Sundrop. I hope you had a good sleep

Am I the first thought he had as he awoke? He must have woken up and messaged me right away. That little revelation makes me happy. It’s a soft little smile I have on my face when I read and re-read the message. I check the time and it’s a little after 9am. He will be at work already. I get myself comfortable in bed, fluffing up my pillow behind me to better support my neck and I text back.

Me: Good morning, Cole. I did sleep well, thanks for asking! How are you and how did you sleep?

Cole: Aww, pretty good actually! Those tablets knock me the fuck out. At work just now, it’s busy.

Me: Oh, well, I don’t want to bother you

Cole: You could never bother me Luna

Me: Really? I don’t want to be annoying?

Cole: I like talking to you, I’ve missed talking to you

I squeak out loud at that. I can’t help myself as I feel something inside me warming up. I’ve missed talking to him too. In fact, this is probably the most we’ve spoken in a long time. There has been a lot of growing up and growing apart between us over the years. He was dating someone, or I was dating someone. There always seemed to be something getting in the way, keeping us apart. Speaking to him like this, I’m struck by how easy it is. I don’t find myself filtering what I am saying, it feels secure, safe even.

I know I am delusional when it comes to love and men but there’s a glimmer of hope. It’s a gentle spark of something wonderful. I can see it, I can smell it, I can taste it. I always wanted it to be him, I really hope I can allow myself to be excited and not get hurt this time.