Alone with the Beast

Tim Tipene finds beauty in his beast.

A famous scene depicted in movies and books all over the world. A classic part of any horror story featuring the werewolf. A horror story that for me is true.

From day one of my exploration into relationships I struggled with a fear. A fear that, in the end, ruined every relationship I ever had. That was the fear of being alone.

The cycle would always start the same way. Connect with a woman and fall into a madly passionate entanglement with promises of the world. The honeymoon period ran for an average of three months. Then the grass began to look to better in the next paddock. I couldn't sit still, I had to keep on moving.

Half the time I had set up these unconscious connections so well that, like clockwork, they would self-destruct in good time anyway. But not until I had played out the bastard role that I was brought up believing in. Which is where the werewolf comes in.

I've never been able to be alone or stay still for too long. My most recent relationship demonstrates this well.

I met Melissa on a course I was taking. She was a participant with whom I got on really well. She was warm, caring and had the most wonderful smile.

After the course I approached her with the intention of catching up. From there we ended up in a relationship that lasted over 18 months. She was well aware of my reputation from day one. Even I forewarned her. She also forewarned me of the love she still carried for her past partner. Ignoring these warning signs we dived in and tangled up intensely with plenty of constrictions on one another. In a month's time Melissa returned to her ex for a night of passion and then came back to me.

We tried to ignore this and carry on. The next factor was her trip for a month to Australia, a place I quickly took an immature disliking to. I tried to persuade her to stay with me; plenty of emotional blackmail that punished her greatly. I tried to be fair, but my fear got in the way.When it was time for her to leave I took it upon myself to look through her bags. Of course I found what I was looking for, as if I had put them there myself. After challenging her about them and laying over a guilt trip, she apologized for packing the condoms.

Now this sort of thing had happen for me throughout my life and there was one clear way of dealing with people who can't be trusted. That for me was to get in and do it before they did. I remained faithful for the month she was away, giving her a hard time over the phone. It was me or the trip. When I woke up to the abuse I was dealing out to her I settled down and assumed an air of arrogant independence to make myself feel better.

On her return, things went well for a couple of weeks. Then bang, I was in bed with someone else, saying over and over inside my head, well she did it in Australia. Yet that wasn't so.

From then on, whenever I was in her company I felt like the bastard I had always seen myself as. I was affirming childhood messages.

This brought on even more. In the end I abused our relationship to five different women and it was more than once with each of them. I couldn't even look at myself in the mirror. To make it worse Melissa continuously praised me, saying how much of a prince I was and how wonderfully I treated her.

To justify my actions I focused on all her bad points and attacked her on any little target I could find. Every time I tried to end it with her, I realised how precious she was. I had to have some good in my life. I did love her.

Many times I tried to stop and play it clean. Leave it all behind and go on like nothing happened. But lies don't rest. My soul was too uncomfortable.

The only place I found comfort was in the role of the bastard. Running from the werewolf instead of dealing with it. I sought help for this curse from many older men. Yet all I got was a transference of their shadow desires.

"Go on boy, you're young. Live it up while you can. I wish I did when I was your age."

Some would even gloat about the many women they scored. One after the other. This is how it had always been for me and it had to stop.

I told Melissa everything. I strongly believe that in any relationship it takes two to tango, but I had to own the place of top abuser in our case.

I paid the price and suffered the consequence of her grief and face the damage I had caused. I was no better than those who had abused me. They were human after all.

The next six months saw Melissa and me trying to work it out many times, but loss of trust is not an easy one to overcome. In the end we became aware of the dependency we had on each other. I had always placed that dependency on any female that came into my life, even if it was the affirmation of one night, which I even paid for on some occasions. My dependency was to avoid the beast. That part of me I was so uncomfortable with.

Melissa is the lady in my introduction. She is fully aware that the only way I can break this curse is if I'm alone. No matter what she hears, begging, wailing, cries of anguish. I must be able to learn to be alone if I'm to have a fulfilling life.

There is a price attached to giving one's self away freely. A high cost that leaves one feeling empty. In this dark shed I am presently dwelling in, with my many fears, I nurture and show tolerance to myself. I must break the habit of treating and believing myself to be the bastard. The next tale to tell would be beauty and the beast. How I find beauty in my beast.

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