Things can’t keep escalating without a culmination. At some point things just can’t get any worse. There is probably some philosopher who has said something wise about that, and I would agree with him.

During the fall the Bodyguard was very stressed. Like I told, he started a company with his now deceased best friend, and when the friend died, the Bodyguard was alone in handling the workload. He finally sold the company for a big sum of money, and I asked him, if he was about to slow down. Maybe enjoy his life, and just work with what he wanted to. With the money he got, he should be able to do that.

But the physical symptoms that he got from the stress continued. He wasn’t well and finally went to a doctor, and after some tests, the Bodyguard got diagnosed with kidney cancer.

Like I said, with the escalation it can only end in a certain way.

I was skeptical, but of course I didn’t let him know that. It was very confusing for me. Some part of me didn’t believe that he had cancer at all, and some part of me … what if he HAD cancer, and I doubted him? What kind of person would I be?

This was beginning of November, and he was relatively fast given the “full cancer package”, which is believable. The health system works fast when it is cancer, and he was soon getting into the radiation treatment, which of course drained his energy. This was at a hospital 2½ hour drive away from me, so it had to be planned (with daughter, dog and work), if I had to go, and he didn’t really give out the information about his precise whereabouts so even if I drove there, I wouldn’t be able to find him.

During November and December, I tried to be supportive, but also, I began to push him. I said that I could not be his girlfriend if I was not allowed to be able to visit him and be there for him. I hated to hear him talk or write about the pain he was in, and then not be able to see him.

He sent pictures of him, lying in a hospital bed and I could see that he had lost weight in his face. Again …this partly proofed something, but still … it was all so strange.

Then some day early December he was admitted to the hospital again, and I was getting really skeptical. I asked him to send me a picture of him, so that I could see how he was doing.

And he did. But he sent me a previous picture. Not a new one. I confronted him and I felt lousy. Was I really putting a man in the spot, when he was getting radiation and was suffering from nausea and extreme headaches? I mean … what kind of bitch was I? What if it WAS true? But still … something wasn’t right.

I pushed. Asked about where he was, saying that I would come visit him, whether he liked it or not. But he kept avoiding it.

Then something strange happened a couple of days later. His nephew – the one he lived with – sent me suddenly a message from the Bodyguards telephone number. Saying that the Bodyguard had been moved to intensive care, and it was getting worse.

I tried to call the nephew, but no answer. I messaged back. No answer. More messages. Nothing. Then the day after a new message came from a different number. The nephew’s supposedly. The Bodyguard had been transferred to a psychiatric ward, as he had tried to commit suicide. I asked if I could call him and talk to him (the nephew), but he declined, saying he was in the hospital and couldn’t talk.

But the “fun” part is … I knew the way of writing. It wasn’t the nephew writing. It was the Bodyguard. As I told, he was dyslexic and had a very particular way of writing, and I would recognize that anywhere. So, he had faked all the messages from the nephew.

Then … a week later or so, the Bodyguard returned on his ordinary telephone. This was still on text, and I was not “allowed” to call, because he was sharing a room etc. etc. etc. That period was extremely hard for me. Despite the fact that I knew that he was lying to me, I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what was going wrong. I loved the idiot, and wanted to be there for him, but he pushed me away. And the fun thing was … I believed (I still do) that he loved me. I was sure of that, but why this behavior?

A week before Christmas I said to him that either I was allowed to visit him, or we were done.

I couldn’t be in this anymore if I was not allowed to see him. What kind of relationship would that be?

He begged me to “stay” (which was a funny request, because we had not seen each other for almost 2 months at that point, and he wouldn’t see me), said he loved me, and didn’t know how to get through cancer and his dark thoughts if not for me being in his life.

I repeated, that the only way I would stay in this relationship, would be if I were allowed to visit him. If he let me into his life. I couldn’t be his pen pal-girlfriend. Either we were a real couple with involvement in each other’s lives, or not at all. This was too strange. The Christmas holidays were coming up, so I would be able to come almost any day. Or I would take a day off and drive up to the hospital.

He declined. Crying. Saying that he couldn’t do it. I was not to see him that weak. But I had come to a point, where I couldn’t compromise anymore. He had not allowed me to visit in 2 months and now he had tried to kill himself? And still he didn’t want to see the only person who he supposedly trusted and loved?

So just after Christmas I ended it. I ended a relationship during Christmas with a man who was ill with cancer.

True or not, that was extremely difficult to swallow. Especially because I knew that HE would think that way.

And it took a long time to get over it. It was difficult because I really loved that moron. Despite the doubt and drama, I still loved him. He was my first adult love (besides my ex-husband, which I fell in love with as a teenager), and the whole thing was so … irrational. Strange. Intense. Overwhelming.

Over the next month’s I wrote to him from time to time (I know, I know, but every conversation was a step away from him, so for me it helped). He was getting better, the cancer was diminishing (astounding doctors we have in these parts, to get patients cancer free in just 3-4 months, even if he was beginning chemotherapy sometime in January. If I ever get cancer, I want to go to that particular hospital).

Every conversation ended the same way. He declared he loved me, I answered (which was true for the first couple of months of 2022), that I also still loved him, but that I could not give this a chance without visiting him). I wanted to see where he lived, I wanted to see something from HIS life.

But no … He either glided off, or it was not a good time, or he would return with a suitable date, which of course never came. But we had some telephone conversations where I finally got something out of him. There was a lot of yelling and crying, but I finally got the truth (or what COULD be the truth, and which makes sense to me).

And I said that it was up to him. When he was ready, he could invite me to his home, and then we could talk. If we ever became a thing again, I couldn’t know, but I was willing to give him a possibility to explain himself.

Then sometime in May/June, he suddenly invited me on the cruise to Norway, as we had been 2 times before. As if we just could pick up where we had left. As if the last 6 months hadn’t happened. The funny part is that for a second, I considered it. Really considered it. Was it a way finally to get closure? We could have separate cabins, and I could finally get some answers. Maybe it was worth it, just to get it all settled in my brain.

Finally, I said that I had enjoyed our trips, but I would not go anywhere with him until he had shown me his life.

Then he texted me during his cruise and I was out travelling myself those days, and we texted politely to each other, and that is the last thing I ever heard from him.

Want to hear what the truth was?