It was the end of another, awful, day when something suddenly clicked in my head.
I had never forgotten about it - I just hadn't concentrated on exploring it, being too pre-occupied with my own torment.
But - and it must have been what, 25 years ago? - I remembered that Sarah had been engaged to be married. She had left her job in London and moved to Sheffield to set up home together with her new fiancee. Then he suddenly upped and ran off with another woman. Out of the blue.
Imagine the hurt and pain that must have caused when it all came crashing down around her. She was left on her own, a woman shockingly spurned. She was in love and she had been betrayed.
The details are slightly hazy now, mainly because she always shrugged it off to me as just "one of those things". I should have paid closer attention, but I didn't want to hurt her with more questions.
She had never before felt the pain of such a massive rejection, of being dumped so cruelly. Of being jilted on her way to the altar, almost.
How horrible and traumatic that must have been for her.
I can only imagine.
I don't know for certain, but I now believe that terrible experience must have, somehow, shaped her approach to all future relationships.
She would always be on the lookout for 'disloyalty', whether it was a partner who wanted to see his grandchildren at Christmas or a partner who spent an hour in the garden with an ex.
The slightest sign of another 'betrayal' and she would simply cut and run - getting her retaliation in first.
She wasn't going to be hurt that badly ever again.
And it fuelled the jealousy she felt, of course, for anyone who she perceived as a threat, whether a grandchild or an ex-.
That experience of betrayal may also be linked to her volatility, the sudden hissy fits, the uncontrollable rage (remember the doorstep?), the temper tantrums, the emotional extremes/immaturity. No idea. Possibly.
More likely that she had never been challenged before for her behaviour, never even been shouted at, certainly not by her doting parents. So she got away with it, undisciplined.
And there is this too - Sarah has no capacity, whatever, to feel empathy for anyone else. So wrapped up is she in her own bubble and her own feelings. The Princess Syndrome again.
That lack of empathy, combined with the uncontrollable rage, is worrying, to say the least.
So the seeds for the destruction of our own relationship were already sown.
That doesn't excuse or justify her behaviour, her actions, nor the pain and suffering she has caused to me. But it does explain them.
It's like the paedophiles we often read about, who were themselves abused as children. We understand them better, but we can't condone, or excuse. (I exaggerate to make the point.)
I think now that being "jilted" explains Sarah's lack of trust, horrible insecurity, pathological jealousy and almost mortal fear that it might happen again.
That she would be betrayed again.
That's what motivated her subsequent actions. And ultimately, she sought terrible revenge on me. Perhaps it was the revenge she wasn't able to exact on her ex-fiancee?
But there is nothing I could have done about any of it.
Any relationship would need to be absolutely perfect for her - the rural idyll away from anyone else, the complete and utter devotion to her, only her, whatever the circumstances.
I kick myself, again and again now, for not seeing all this more clearly.
But how terribly, terribly, sad? I could weep for her. Almost.
The real tragedy is that she will neither recognise, nor accept, any of this.
Because she's 'a strong woman'. To do so would be to show weakness. She often told me, sometimes quite proudly, of how when previous relationships had ended, no-one would ever know.
So she has made herself hard as nails in order to survive.
Sarah has never married, of course. Had none of the children that she secretly yearned for. How awful.
And she moved from Sheffield to be close to her parents - the only people she could truly rely on.
I speculate, but indulge me, that she may eventually find someone - probably much, much older than her, who she will feel safe with. Who will be relatively passive, constantly attentive and totally adoring - why wouldn't he be? - and offer no possible threat to her security. Or perhaps the exact opposite - someone much younger, who she can shape.
Someone who absolutely dotes on only her, to the exclusion of everything else.
A real father figure, or perhaps a sugar Daddy who can easily afford the isolated house in the country?
Whether such a man exists is a matter for conjecture.
We all have baggage - he may have children, grandchildren, a former partner, sudden illness, or some other distraction (however temporary), so there will always be the potential for it all to go horribly wrong, again.
But she may be lucky. I hope she is.
I had never forgotten about it - I just hadn't concentrated on exploring it, being too pre-occupied with my own torment.
But - and it must have been what, 25 years ago? - I remembered that Sarah had been engaged to be married. She had left her job in London and moved to Sheffield to set up home together with her new fiancee. Then he suddenly upped and ran off with another woman. Out of the blue.
Imagine the hurt and pain that must have caused when it all came crashing down around her. She was left on her own, a woman shockingly spurned. She was in love and she had been betrayed.
The details are slightly hazy now, mainly because she always shrugged it off to me as just "one of those things". I should have paid closer attention, but I didn't want to hurt her with more questions.
She had never before felt the pain of such a massive rejection, of being dumped so cruelly. Of being jilted on her way to the altar, almost.
How horrible and traumatic that must have been for her.
I can only imagine.
I don't know for certain, but I now believe that terrible experience must have, somehow, shaped her approach to all future relationships.
She would always be on the lookout for 'disloyalty', whether it was a partner who wanted to see his grandchildren at Christmas or a partner who spent an hour in the garden with an ex.
The slightest sign of another 'betrayal' and she would simply cut and run - getting her retaliation in first.
She wasn't going to be hurt that badly ever again.
And it fuelled the jealousy she felt, of course, for anyone who she perceived as a threat, whether a grandchild or an ex-.
That experience of betrayal may also be linked to her volatility, the sudden hissy fits, the uncontrollable rage (remember the doorstep?), the temper tantrums, the emotional extremes/immaturity. No idea. Possibly.
More likely that she had never been challenged before for her behaviour, never even been shouted at, certainly not by her doting parents. So she got away with it, undisciplined.
And there is this too - Sarah has no capacity, whatever, to feel empathy for anyone else. So wrapped up is she in her own bubble and her own feelings. The Princess Syndrome again.
That lack of empathy, combined with the uncontrollable rage, is worrying, to say the least.
So the seeds for the destruction of our own relationship were already sown.
That doesn't excuse or justify her behaviour, her actions, nor the pain and suffering she has caused to me. But it does explain them.
It's like the paedophiles we often read about, who were themselves abused as children. We understand them better, but we can't condone, or excuse. (I exaggerate to make the point.)
I think now that being "jilted" explains Sarah's lack of trust, horrible insecurity, pathological jealousy and almost mortal fear that it might happen again.
That she would be betrayed again.
That's what motivated her subsequent actions. And ultimately, she sought terrible revenge on me. Perhaps it was the revenge she wasn't able to exact on her ex-fiancee?
But there is nothing I could have done about any of it.
Any relationship would need to be absolutely perfect for her - the rural idyll away from anyone else, the complete and utter devotion to her, only her, whatever the circumstances.
I kick myself, again and again now, for not seeing all this more clearly.
But how terribly, terribly, sad? I could weep for her. Almost.
The real tragedy is that she will neither recognise, nor accept, any of this.
Because she's 'a strong woman'. To do so would be to show weakness. She often told me, sometimes quite proudly, of how when previous relationships had ended, no-one would ever know.
So she has made herself hard as nails in order to survive.
Sarah has never married, of course. Had none of the children that she secretly yearned for. How awful.
And she moved from Sheffield to be close to her parents - the only people she could truly rely on.
I speculate, but indulge me, that she may eventually find someone - probably much, much older than her, who she will feel safe with. Who will be relatively passive, constantly attentive and totally adoring - why wouldn't he be? - and offer no possible threat to her security. Or perhaps the exact opposite - someone much younger, who she can shape.
Someone who absolutely dotes on only her, to the exclusion of everything else.
A real father figure, or perhaps a sugar Daddy who can easily afford the isolated house in the country?
Whether such a man exists is a matter for conjecture.
We all have baggage - he may have children, grandchildren, a former partner, sudden illness, or some other distraction (however temporary), so there will always be the potential for it all to go horribly wrong, again.
But she may be lucky. I hope she is.
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