I should have known not to do it.  I should have known not to allow this man back into my life.  He had shown me who he was when I was 17.

He showed me again at 31.

I had recently gotten a divorce, and was thoroughly enjoying my life.  My sister and I were living in an apartment together, I was working part-time and thinking about going to law school.  My first daughter was 11 years old and growing up fast.  She had gained some independence, and so had I.

This same man contacted  me through his niece.  She phoned me, and told me that he wanted to see me, and that he was now living in Dallas, Texas.  I agreed to talk to him.  He called and invited me to Dallas.  He offered to pay for the plane ticket and all of the expenses.  We decided to take a road trip to New Orleans and party there for a few days before heading back to Dallas.

The plane ride was mostly uneventful, except that I had to fight off a slightly drunken white man looking for a good time.  He sat right next to me, and slurred as he talked about youth and beauty, while looking at me lasciviously.  I shrugged him off, laughed at his attempts to pick me up, and looked forward to seeing the man who had been my first love.

My ex-boyfriend picked me up at the airport, looked at me sideways, and said, “Geez, I didn’t know you were so good looking.”  I remember the almost complete compliment and felt slightly pleased that he found me attractive, even after almost 15 years had passed.  He was 38 or 39, and still as deceivingly handsome as ever.  His beauty again distracted me.  His beauty had always distracted me from who he really was.

He drove up to a hotel, I don’t remember which, but I do remember that the room was large, and well-decorated.  He wanted to have sex right away.  He began kissing me, and I allowed it.  He lay me down on the bed and climbed on top of me.  I remember feeling repulsed and disgusted as he stated through short breaths and gushed, “I knew it would be good, I knew it would be good.”  I felt dirty after he finished.  I felt used.  He got up, showered and left.  He came back later that night and repeated the act.  I felt trapped.  I had no money, no transportation and felt that I had no choice but to comply.  I was afraid of what might happen if I didn’t.

That night, I barely slept as I desperately tried to find a way to leave without being harmed.  In the morning, I got up and dressed before he could climb on top of me again.  I told him that I had been throwing up and felt very sick.  I needed to go home.  He looked surprised and disappointed, but he believed my frightened lie and took me to the airport.  I almost jumped out of the truck before running into the airport.  I had to wait for a couple of hours for my flight to take off.  In that couple of hours, I became so enraged that my head started pounding.  The anger made me cry, so I had to go into the restroom and close the door so that my violent tears could come freely and privately.

I slept on the flight back home.  When I got home, I called his niece and told her not to ever put him in contact with me again.  I explained to her what had happened, and her response was “you shouldn’t have let him do that.”  As if I had enjoyed it, as if he was really my lover.

Again, I moved on with my life.  I forgot about him.  I forgot about that encounter in Dallas, the coercive rape, and the trap he set, the mindless contempt he held for me and all women.  I forgot and moved on.

But, he did not forget.  Narcissists never forget.  He kept me tucked away in some corner of his diseased mind for 30 years before showing up again.