My boyfriend who dressed and looked perfect, hid a secret at home
When Richard and I met at a book fair almost three years ago, he was at the end of a long marriage. What brought us together first was the love of style. The first night I talked to him very openly because I thought he was gay. He was wearing a purple Lanvin suit with a floral tie, a polka dot handkerchief and striped socks. I could not believe a man who dressed so well and cured was hetero. Only after our third meeting (he was wearing a blue suit with red shoes) did I begin to realize that he actually did not want to be my gay and stylish friend, but my stylish boyfriend. It all started and flourished. We spent the weekends together and when I left for work, he flew for hours just to meet me. We stayed together for days.
But something was wrong ... He never wanted me to go home. I wondered what he was hiding - a second family, a sick mother? It all seemed particularly strange as this man with such an interesting personal style certainly lived in a super environment. Talking to him to invite me home was a long process. He constantly refused my requests or said the disappointing sentence like, "One day, darling, one day I will invite."
I could clearly see that this was a sensitive topic for him and, not wanting to rock the love boat, I allowed this dynamic to continue for a whole year before something inside me broke. I had a day full of appointments away from my house and prayed if I could use his apartment on meeting breaks. I watched him start moving in his chair. He got up and took his coat out of the office. Before he left he told me he needed to fix it and tidy it up a bit, but he accepted.
I had his address and decided to go. I climbed into the elevator and knocked on the seventh floor door and his face appeared on the half-open door:
"Please do not judge me," he told me. "Of course I will not judge, how bad can the situation be?" I replied. Going inside, I came across a scene that reminded me of the TV show "Hoarders." So in the dark I could find very little space on the floor to walk. There were endless piles of things. The lockers were old. Nothing made sense. This was a man who matched the tails of his glasses with his socks. This was a man of exquisite taste.
The first thing I did was run away. Then I came back the next day and decided to tidy up that place.
Pak nga pak, fillova të qëndroj te banesa e tij kaotike. Një ditë kur më tha që do shkonte tek prindërit e tij për ca orë, ishte momenti im. Përvesha mëngët dhe thashë do bëj punët. M'u deshën plot 45 minuta për të lokalizuar fshesën me korrent. Vendosa rrobat në dollapë, vendosa librat në rafte dhe fshiva pluhurin nga kornizat e vjetra. Ngadalë pllakat e dyshemesë me parket filluan të dilnin para meje. Kur dëgjova çelësin në bravë, ngriva. Nuk e kisha idenë se cili do të ishte reagimi i tij. Shpresoja që ai të më ulej në gjunjë në shenjë mirënjohje, por jo. "Çfarë ke bërë?" më tha. “Unë kisha një sistem! Si do ta gjej çdo gjë tani?"
E kuptova se kisha shkuar shumë larg. U nisa për në shtëpinë time atë natë dhe kuptova që veprimet e mia ishin ndoshta pushtuese dhe mizore. I dërgova një mesazh ku i kërkoja ndjesë, por mbeti pa përgjigje. E shqetësuar për gjendjen e marrëdhënies sonë, u ktheva në banesën e tij të nesërmen me një fjalim faljeje të përgatitur më parë dhe e gjeta duke tërhequr një karrocë të mbushur plot me kuti. Ai më buzëqeshi. "Po i çoj të gjitha këto për ndihma", tha me krenari.
Kanë kaluar gjashtë muaj që nga "magjia ime e pastrimit" dhe progresi është bërë. Jo vetëm që tani mund të ecim pa u rrëzuar, por kemi zbuluar disa thesare.
Një gjë do ta them për idenë e tij të mos-hedhjes kurrë asgjë nga shtëpia. Në këtë mënyrë e kishte shndërruar në një muze të jetës së tij. Unë kam kaluar mbrëmje të tëra duke lexuar letrat e tij të dashurisë, shkruar e marrë 30 vjet më parë.
We even found an article an ex-girlfriend had written about him in the Cosmopolitan in 1981 entitled "The Very Regular Man." Although photos of his ex-wife are now in the drawers, I would never have wanted to throw them away. He loved her once and who am I to deny love? All the experiences he has had in his life have turned him into the sweet man I love now. I do not want to destroy this museum, but only to cure it. Some things on display, others in the archives. The place also needs to be repainted. This will be difficult for him, but I will do it when he is out of town again.
* The Huffington Post article was adapted into the Huffington Post