@Lord Bacchus: I'm stunned speechless, dude. Well done for posting those messages of yours. I salute your courage.
For my own part, time and time again in other threads I've clicked "Like" on one of your posts after reading it and thinking "Yes!
This guy knows what he's talking about!" So it properly upsets and angers me that these things have happened to you.
That first anecdote of yours:
No, you certainly
didn't deserve that. That's just a warped and twisted and outright bizarre way to handle
anything. Those two can go and **** each other. I'm sure they'll be very happy together.
As for your second post, all I can hope to do is answer it by sort of linking it back to the story of my own singular experience, of someone who sadly had their finger on the self-destruct button.
I'd mentioned before that beyond the time when the person I'd asked out had changed her mind, things got a bit bizarre and complicated. The full story is that I continued to speak to her at work most days. She even loaned/recommended some books to me. She had great taste. (My favourites were
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time and
Flowers for Algernon.) Eventually, she left to work elsewhere, we said our goodbyes, and I thought that would be that.
Some months later, an older female former work colleague of mine was planning on going to see a certain film, and the idea came up that we'd both go. In the days before, she asked me "Do you remember Xxxxxx?" [Names removed to protect the innocent!
] I don't know how much she knew, so I just said "Yeah, of course." She said "She'd like to come along too, if that's okay." Well, it was okay by me!
To cut a longer story shorter, we all had a fun outing. Towards the end of it, I was suddenly gifted with an opportunity to get Xxxxxx's number. With uncharacteristic decisiveness, I grabbed the chance. (I won't deny it: I did still like her, after all.) Somehow, I'd ended the day with her phone number. (It was a pointless endeavour, in the end: I think she texted me back... twice ever, maybe?)
So that should have been the end of that, but it still wasn't. I never spoke to Xxxxxx about this directly, but apparently she was being picked on at her new workplace. (My older female colleague told me this.) Long story short again, she left there and came back to work with us.
This was when the bizarre stuff started. I didn't know this before, but it turned out she was "infatuated" (the gossip-mongers' words, not mine) with her section manager. I heard that, at one staff outing, she caused a bit of a scene by basically throwing herself at him. (The gossip-mongers' account of events; I wasn't there.) Now obviously I'm biased, but I have literally never spoken to one person who thought that this guy was anything other than a total and utter a***hole, with his pompous attitude and generally domineering behaviour. (They were both bi, I understand. Maybe she... identified... with that... or something...?)
As time went on, Xxxxxx's behaviour became increasingly erratic and cause for alarm. Her lovely curly, sandy-coloured hair that I liked so much got hacked down to nearly nothing and dyed a horrible garish colour. (Personal choice and absolutely nothing to do with me, of course, but still upsetting to see.) She was clearly struggling with self-esteem; she seemed torn by her sexuality and hated her appearance. I sometimes honestly just wanted to grab her by the shoulders and yell sense into her, but you obviously can't do that in the workplace. I couldn't even look at her one time she again attacked how she looked as I hit back "That is
not true." I was just so angry; I just wanted to tell her "You are
so pretty. Why can't you
see that?" I did try to text her sometimes, but she didn't answer and my words never reached her. I had to stand by helplessly.
It got worse. One time, she made up a complete lie about how, on her way to work, she'd just seen our older female colleague's young daughter (who should've been in nursery at that time of day) accompanied by an unknown man. (I heard this second-hand.) You can imagine how she must've freaked out upon hearing that. Xxxxxx later backtracked on it, saying something like "Oh, I must've imagined it or something." A p**s-poor attempt at attention-seeking? Unsurprisingly, our colleague gave Xxxxxx a wide berth from then on.
In the end, Xxxxxx was sacked after being caught with... a certain substance in her employee locker. The last I heard of her was a few years ago when a close friend of Xxxxxx's, a girl who worked in my workplace's café, mentioned that she was going to be meeting her at the weekend. "How's she getting on these days?" I asked. After a worrying hesitation, she answered "Yeah, she's... okay." It didn't sound very convincing.
That close friend died suddenly around two years ago. (The story was all over our local media.) God only knows how Xxxxxx must have taken that.