Field Good wrote:
One day she fell down drunk and hit her head,
I think I dated the same girl (Victoria?). Had this habit of blacking out and hitting her head on things, not always drunk. Was like a weekly visitor to the ER. Absolute nutcase in bed. But man, a nightmare of deception. After having a nearly medical-grade panic episode because I had to leave town for a couple weeks for work, she'd phone me 6-7 times a day to cry, beg me to come back, tell how she loved me, tell what she'd do to me sexwise if only I'd come back right now. That was the first week. The second week, she fell and "hit her head" and was put in the hospital for several days (I was told) and then I never heard from her again. Time I got back in town she'd resumed with her previous boyfriend and any time I saw her in public she'd act like we'd never met before. This did not stop her phoning me and leaving angry messages from time to time.
Fast forward some time and she wound up homeless and literally living in her car after she'd burned down essentially every friendship and human relationship she had in that city. Turns out she was a heroin addict the whole time too, stole her best friend's credit card and ran up 7 grand worth of debt on it, got kicked out of another friend's house because she was stealing the girl's spoons to cook up. I let her come by the house once during her car-living period just for the humour of it, but it wasn't funny it was just sad and pathetic. She was still a very pretty girl and it bummed me out to see such potential go to such waste. She hadn't showered in days, and wouldn't, when I offered her use of mine. It had rained the previous few days and all her blankets got wet in her car, and everything stank, sour cigaret and wet filth smell of poverty and psychopathy and emotional ruin. She was wearing a ratty bikini as underwear, I let her wash her clothes in my machine and am somewhat ashamed to report that in spite of her filth and obvious mental disorder she was still hot enough that I was hoping I'd get to ball her one more time. Bought her a meal at a chinese place, during which she tried to hold my hand on top of the table like we were lovers. I took my hand away, and immediately she blew up and accused me of helping her just to try and get in her shorts (guilty), expecting her to whore for this chinese dinner, etc. Made a giant scene at this restaurant, luckily like all chinese places it was empty. I muscled her out, drove her back to her car and she collected her wet blankets and drove off. I laughed my ass off the rest of the night, took two showers and went to bed in my clean sheets.
A month or so later I was again out of town for a while and I get a call from supposedly (I believed it at the time, no reason not to) some police department in New Hampshire. This officer saying a girl by name of her name had been found deceased of apparent OD in a bus depot, my number found in her phone, and they are hoping to get some information about kin, etc. I told them what I knew (not much), they thanked me and I hung up. Was kind of bummed to hear it but not entirely surprised. Anyway of course it was fake. I told, as you naturally would, some mutual friends back in home town about it. But a few weeks later she showed back up there, very much not dead in New Hampshire. She'd found some guy to call me up and impersonate an officer delivering this news. I have no idea why, it wasn't like I was looking for her or she owed me money. Anyway the last I heard was she was going around telling people she was going to get a restraining order against me for telling people she was dead when she wasn't. By that time I wasn't even on the same continent anymore, so I had a good laugh about it.
I think I heard she's at large in los angeles now. So watch out. The whole experience was a fairly traumatising one for me. It called up a lot of questions about how I could have so radically failed to properly assess such a bent girl and allow her such access to my life and person, not to mention the social shame one feels at getting clowned so hard by a diseased sociopath junkie. I have problems trusting anyone now, for any reason, as result of my experience with this girl, so complete was the failure of my early-warning system. I no longer live in the USA because of this. I can't say it was the whole and only reason I left, but I do believe it was the final nail in a very nail-filled coffin.
In spite of all, I feel lucky to have gotten off as easily as I did, after now reading some of these other stories.