Part 1
So I'll start this off by saying I fell in love.

I got dragged to a Drake concert by my friends, under the promise it would be a good place to pick up girls.

They were right. I got in the beer lineup, and this little black goddess was next to me. I turned to her, smiled and said, "I'm going to buy you a beer."

Click. Big smile from her. She told me I was cute. I took her phone and put my number in it, then left her and returned to my seat.

Later on during the concert she joined me at my seat, where our chemistry only grew stronger. There was something so exciting about looking into those beautiful green eyes, so full of life and happiness.
I turn to my friends, and tell them I'll catch up with them later. Her and I leave the concert early (neither of us cared about the music), grabbed a 12-case, and drank it while we walked around Vancouver's seawall and talked until about 5 in the morning. I kept having to remind myself this was really happening, as this girl was in every sense of the word perfect. So smart. So funny. We thought the same. I was in love.

We go back to her place and have incredible sex, from which I overheat -- she ended up getting a wet cloth and cooling me off with it until I fell asleep.

We wake up some time in the morning, and it was pretty clear to both of us we didn't want this to end. So I called in sick to work, she skipped class, we smoke a joint, and grab a 6-pack. Then we head down to Granville Island, since she was fairly new to the city and hadn't been there before.
I've never been so completely happy in my life. My eyes are welling up just thinking about it. This beautiful, funny goddess and I, holding hands and exploring Vancouver. Heaven. I'll never forget it. We went to furniture stores and drooled over couches worth $50k. I got to laugh at her face while she tried sushi for the first time.

This period of deepening love didn't just end that day. We shirked all responsibilities for 4 days straight and just enjoyed each other and the intense bond that had formed.

That period of time was the best of my life. I'll never forget an instant of that weekend I met my goddess.


Part 2

Within a week of having known her, she had already met my father and sister. Funny story, that one.
The last girl I dated seriously had filed false assault charges against me, and the trial date was a week after the Drake concert. My goddess and I had still been seeing as much of each other as possible, so of course the night before court she wanted to stay the night. I told her my father would be staying at my apartment due to court in the morning, which she didn't think twice about. She wanted to meet him, of course. I had been open and honest with her about my legal troubles and the poor excuse for a human that my ex had been.

That night my dad passed out in my bed while my goddess and I pushed my couches together, got more stoned than I can ever remember being, and laughed like kids at the 'Fish' episode of BBC life. The mudskippers in particular made her nose crinkle in laughter. As we fell asleep together, I let it slip. "I love you." With her eyes already closed, she smiled happily and fell asleep.

Morning comes, and I'm in court, surrounded by those I love. My sister, father, and goddess are all there to support me. The trial starts, and they're seated directly behind me, forced to listen to the crap my ex was spewing from the stand. I don't care about any of this, save for my goddess' opinion of things. I steal a glance back at her, and she is offering support to my sister, who is crying.

The trial takes an unexpected turn when the prosecution presents some videos from the night in question. I had been drunk, and the ex and I had been fighting. She had managed to record parts of our argument, mostly parts that involved me yelling and swearing at her. You could sense the mood in the court tense up.

I look back again at my goddess. She's looking at me now, but with a look of trust. A look that says she understands. A look that puts my mind at ease. I breathe a sigh of relief.

Too soon. The verdict comes. Guilty. The videos are enough evidence for the judge to come to the conclusion I was violent. Oh well, you can't win everyone over. The sentence is handed down, and I receive a 45-day conditional sentence order plus a year's probation.

And my goddess? Couldn't care less. As soon as I walked out of court, she gave me a hug I'll never forget. All my stress, worries, and concerns vanished, and so did the courthouse around us.

My goddess, my father and I spend the rest of the day at the Vancouver aquarium checking things out and putting what just happened behind us.

Part of my CSO was a 8:00pm curfew, which proved to be quite annoying since my goddess lived downtown and I lived in Surrey, an hour trip by transit. It got to be Christmas-time, and I wasn't allowed out. It was starting to get to me. To make it worse, my goddess was about to leave me for 3 weeks as she was going home to Calgary to visit her family.

I wanted to do something special for her before she left. 3 weeks is a long time.

Whistler. For those that haven't been, it's magic. I pleaded and begged with my probation officer to give me an exemption from my curfew for one night, being honest about everything. I told him how my goddess and I met, I told him how I felt about her, and I told him that this one night in Whistler would be all I would get in the way of a Christmas celebration.

He relented. Wouldn't you? I was plainly in love, over-stressed, and in need of a break. My goddess had been waiting in her car for me outside the probation office while I had been inside. I came running out with a big smile on my face, and told her to fill up her tank because we were going for an adventure. She reached through her car window, grabbed me by the front of my shirt, and kissed me so hard I thought I was going to pass out.

"I love you too baby"

Electricity shooting through my body as I hop in the car, off we go to Whistler. The roads are icy and she's an Alberta driver, but she refuses to let me drive. I think she was trying to show off.

We arrive in Whistler and do what we always do. Get a pack of beer and wander for hours. Honestly, I'm more of a pot smoker than a drinker. But not with my goddess. Her and I singlehandedly kept Molson in business.

Anyways, as we walk around Whistler Village, I can tell she's enthralled. She always had an interesting way of enjoying herself. She would truly stop and smell the roses. She would pause, tilt her face upward like a sunbathing cat, and breathe in deeply as a smile creeped across her face. This one gesture will always stick with me. It's summer now as I write this, and I find myself emulating her every time it's a beautiful, sunny day.

After our midnight stroll, we sneak into the hot tub after closing and enjoy each other under the starlight. She falls asleep on the patio, so I carry her back to our room.

In the morning I awake to her pacing back and forth on our deck, talking discreetly on her phone with the sliding door closed. I close my eyes to fall asleep again after checking the clock. She shakes me awake with a hesitant face half an hour later.

"Who was that?"

"Oh, no one. Let's go get breakfast."

I'm not into mistrusting my goddess, so I don't press the issue.

We decide to explore after breakfast, so I pick a random lake with a path to walk around. The lake was well frozen over, with a foot of fresh snow marred only by a dog's frolicking. The air was still. The scene was static, as if her and I had been transported into a painting. We continue on the path around the lake to find a small courtyard overlooking the lake. Someone had spread rose petals over the entire thing. The dark red stuck out against the fresh white snow in a striking manner much the same as my goddess' green eyes from her mocha complexion. I heard her gasp.

"Did you do this for me?!"

I hadn't. Our story was simply a blessed one. A story of right place, right time.

This time, I drove home. She fell asleep on my shoulder. I could see her phone, and she had 30 missed calls from a blocked number.


Part 3: To Rubble

During her visit to Calgary, at first we talked frequently and Facetimed daily. As the days went on, I heard from her less and less. For the last week of her visit, I didn't hear one word. Just a text telling me what time her flight home would be. I didn't press the issue.

So she came back. While she was gone I had been given her car and keys to her apartment, so I spent a day washing the car, detailing it, changing the oil, cleaning the apartment, and so on. I wanted my goddess to be pampered. Sometimes I would sleep in her bed just for the smell of her. It was intoxicating. It made me miss her so fiercely I had to resist the urge to hop on a plane to Calgary myself.

But the day finally came when she returned. I woke up early, unable to sleep in. After I washed her car once more and filled up the tank, I was ready and waiting at the airport 2 hours early. Her flight landed, and after what felt like a year, she emerged into the baggage claim area. She looked genuinely happy to see me, so any misgivings I had had about our lack of communication simply vanished. I gave her a hug for the ages, and pulled away enough for a deep kiss as well. She seemed almost surprised by the kiss. What the fuck?

Again, I let it go.

Days go by, and she feels off. Suddenly, I'm the only one asking for time together. On one such occassion in January we were walking through Stanley Park when she got a phone call.

"I have to take this..."

She stays out of ear shot from me during the entire 40 minute phone call, walking behind me as she tells me to continue along the path. At one point the ambient noise gets low enough that I can hear the tone with which she is speaking. Soft. Comforting. Loving. Flirty. I feel a pit growing in my stomach. I've been pushing away any signs of things being awry because I don't want jealously to be a part of this relationship. It's just not worth it; something I've learned from the ex. Still, here I am, my heart racing. Hate clouds my thoughts. Pure anger throbbing in my head. The urge to turn around and fucking scream at this woman to get off the phone this instant and be honest about who she's speaking with is so strong that I have to physically bite my own tongue.

I hear her say goodbye on the phone. Without a second's hesitation, I demand to know what is going on. My frustration from the past month is spilled out at once, and I can tell I've scared her.

She admits it to me. She's had a boyfriend the entire time. (Him). They've been together 3 and a half years. He wouldn't move out to Vancouver with her. She was feeling lonely that night at Drake. She didn't think her and I would become such a serious thing. She begins to cry, something I've never seen before; something she prides herself on never doing. She tells me she's sorry, and that she's an asshole. She tells me she spent most of her time in Calgary with him. She tells me, "I do love you. But (He) is my high school love. What do you want from me?"

I've never been one to control my anger well, ask anyone who knows me. My entire body is shaking and red, my eyes won't focus. I can't think of a single thing to say to her. I just want to destroy. I just want to cause pain.

But I don't. I leave her. I tell her to fuck off. I tell her if she follows me, phones me, or texts me, I'll find (Him) on Facebook and tell him everything. She's no fucking goddess. She's just (She) now.
Heartbroken and lonely, I stewed alone at home for weeks. At some point I bothered an old flame for some affection. She was a sweetheart, and looking back, didn't deserve an asshole like me using her like I did. But at the time, I didn't care. We had sex several times. I vented about how angry I was, but I was never direct about what. She eventually figured I was a lost cause of deep pain, so she stopped coming over. I can't blame her for that.

Another month passed. (She) messaged me. "I'm sorry, I really am. I know I'm being selfish right now in talking to you, but I just want to know that you're okay. I want to talk in person" At this point I'm in Victoria for work, and have had meaningless sex with several girls. All the while wishing I was still worshipping a goddess. So I reply.

"I'm in Victoria for work right now, so we can't talk face to face."

"I'd like to see you."

"I'd like to see you too."

So she catches the ferry and several buses. That day. She checks herself into a hotel, and tells me the address. We meet at the White Spot across the street, where she emphatically tells me over and over how sorry she is, how wrong she was to choose him over me. How she should have left him the minute we had our spark.

As obvious as the truth is now, I still wanted to hear those words more than anything. I missed my goddess. I missed how good she made me feel. I missed our drunken nights, and I even missed her annoying chihuahua Flynn. I wanted to know that our brief time together meant more to her than anyone or anything else, and she was saying it all. I still managed to keep enough of a level head to tell her that I would not be joining her at the hotel, nor would I hang out with her in Victoria. I wanted her to really feel shitty about things. I told her to go back home, and that we would talk when I was done working out of town.

I’m not as much of a rock as I had thought. The next weekend I was making a visit back to Vancouver to see her.

We agreed to continue things. I was still in love, and she was still my goddess. She still basked in the sun’s warmth, and she still had striking green eyes and a mocha complexion. I told her I would only be with her if (He) was 100% out of the picture. A single Facebook message, text message, or phone call to him, and I was out, and out forever. She assured me things were done. She told me again and again how deeply she loved me and how foolish she had been, and I accepted it all. She asked me if I had been with anyone else, and I lied and told her what she wanted to hear.

I was still working out of town, but we were alternating weekend visits. She’d come to Victoria, I’d go to Vancouver, and things felt great again. Work, admittedly, was hard to focus on. I just wanted to be back with my goddess.

On one such weekend, it was to be the 4/20 celebration at the Vancouver Art Gallery. We planned to have breakfast Sunday morning with my sister and brother-in-law, then head to the festivities. But that was Sunday.

Friday night, after having left work early, I caught the ferry to Vancouver. Along the way to her apartment, I picked up a 24-pack and a 26, since this was to be a weekend’s worth of booze. The entire time she was excitedly texting me, telling me to hurry up. Telling me how much she missed me and couldn’t wait for me to get to her. So I run to her place like Charlie with the golden ticket, beers happily clinking in my arms. She greets me at the door with nothing on but a smile, and I take the hint. We made love. It must have lasted 45 minutes…or was it 45 days? Orgasm after orgasm shook her, as I fucked her like she’d never been fucked in her life. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder.

After we finish, we start to drink. Most of the case gets finished, and it’s getting late enough that it’s too cold to stay naked any longer. As she’s getting dressed, her phone gets a notification.
New message from (Him). I grab her phone faster than I can register what I just read. She came into the room, looked at me, looked at her phone, and did nothing. I can see she’s waiting for my reaction.

“Should I even open this?”

“No.”

“Too bad.”

The text from (Him) was a reply to her, not an unsolicited message. Her original message read: “I still love you baby. I wish you’d talk to me again. I’m sorry. I’d leave him in a second for you. I love you so much, you’re my everything.”

I put her phone down and walked over to the window. She checks her phone to see what I’ve read.
“Well?” she asks.

“Well you know full fucking what! I’ve never trusted someone like I’ve trusted you. I’ve never loved someone like I’ve loved you. You’re MY everything! I fucking want to die right now.”
She isn’t reacting like I’d expect. She has a distinct lack of reaction. Almost a pokerface. Her lack of reaction upsets me more. “Didn’t this mean anything to you?! What the fuck?!”

More pokerface.

“Fuck you woman! You know what?” I spill everything. I tell her about Brandea back in January. I tell her about the sex I had in Victoria. I don’t hold back a single detail, because I want her pain to match mine. Her pokerface is gone now. She’s just as angry and upset as I am. But yet she doesn’t yell. Still, I go on. I tell her how one girl in Victoria can give a blowjob better than she could ever imagine. Finally, I see my pain and her pain become equal. She starts to sob. She hates me in this instant, and I hate her. After 5 minutes of her silence, she finally speaks.

“Well guess what?”

“What?”

“You just hit me.”

“…what?”

My heart drops. I’ve been through this before.

She runs into the bathroom, her actions becoming erratic. Tears in her eyes and raw emotion on her face, she screams about how I’m a lying piece of shit. How I probably fuck all the girls like I fuck her. How I treat every girl I’m with like I treat her. Absolute bullshit, but here she is, trying to convince herself. By this point, she is full on screaming. I’m less angry now, and more worried about what she meant by, “you just hit me.” And then it becomes clear. She looks at herself in the mirror, and swings hard, punching herself in the eye.

Immediately I grab her to restrain her. Both drunk and insane, we wrestle. She frees herself and runs to the living room, grabbing her phone. She quickly dials 9-1-1 and locks herself in the bathroom.
I’m frozen in fear. What do I do? Leave? The skytrain is closed at this hour, where would I go? I can’t take the phone from her, or that’ll just make the police reaction worse. I pace around her apartment while her dog howls like an idiot. I sit down on the couch. She’s still in the locked bathroom. Minutes pass.

I hear a click. I jump up to look at the bathroom door, which is still locked and closed. I spin around, and get tackled by 3 Vancouver police officers.

Finally, the bathroom door opens, and she emerges. A fourth officer is asking her questions as I’m handcuffed and kneed in the stomach for resisting. They drag me outside, and the last time I see her and hear her, she’s crying to the officer, telling them I punched her in the face.

From there on, it’s a blur. Asshole, pig cops calling me a woman beater. A bare jail cell with no pillow or blanket. A fruit snack bar for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. A knock on the door every time I almost fall asleep. A phone call with my lawyer. A paddywagon ride to jail. More conversation with my lawyer. I distinctly remember being told by him that whatever happened, I’d have to accept a plea bargain. My past history would make it impossible to stand trial for myself. The judge would never believe my side of the story.

I hope you do. For (She) was my goddess. My angel. My one true love. My soulmate, and my life companion. As angry as I’ve been with her, I still love her. I always will. I’ll always remember those first few days after the Drake concert.

But she’s not my goddess anymore. There are no goddesses. Life is not a fairy tale.


Prologue

I'm writing this section now some two years later. I show this to people once they've gained my trust and I allow them to see what makes me tick. Those people probably have some questions after they've finished reading, so I'll quickly answer what those might be.

Time heals. I hardly ever think about her. I still love her in the sense that you can love anyone if you've heard their story. It's not that deep, personal love. It's the connectedness of humanity that allows me to love her. But again, this love is nothing beyond what I feel for anyone else from my past. We're all in this together, and whatever has happened I still can love.

Life isn't a fairy tale. This event has taught me well that idealizing people is a pretty shitty thing to do for everyone involved. Expecting her to be my goddess didn't exactly work out, now did it? I held her to a standard that she clearly didn't live up to, and in doing so I allowed things to play out the way they did. Learn who people are and appreciate them for that. Our expectations do nothing but ruin our experiences. And I don't want to ruin any more experiences.

I didn't speak to her since that night, until a couple weeks ago. I messaged her to make sure she was doing good, and to see what her motivations were and how she thinks about things now. It was nowhere near as fruitful as I'd hoped, but expecting her full openness was foolish. I'm sure she's embarrassed. So I'll need to just accept things as they are.

And as they are, I'll be alright. There are no goddesses, but I'll find my imperfect partner some day.