The Descent and the Werewolf

My true descent into madness began in November of my second year of law school. Of course it involved a boy, with me it always does.

I met this one at a bar. I think I’d seen him at school one time before. He’s 6’4″ and over 200 lbs, built substantially, none of that skinny shit. I think I’d glanced him for a brief second when classes were changing. As a tall girl, tall guys always catch my eye.

We met at the bar. I saw him from across the bar, tall and easy to spot over all the little heads. At this point, I was quite the social butterfly. Still hypomanic, better because of the Lamictal but still pretty far from even keeled. I had perfected my brand of picking guys up at a bar, usually to pass off to a friend. None of my friends really like being the first to approach a guy but I have no problem with it. At the time, I was thriving in groups. I would spot a group of guys, start talking to them, and then bring them back to my friends for them to pair off with.

I wasn’t getting him for my friends. I don’t remember if he was with a big group but when I walked up to him, it was to talk to just him. I had no interest in his friends, I wasn’t trying to wrangle them back to my group. I was getting this one for myself.

He wasn’t the easiest conquest. He’s quite good looking and is aware of it in a matter of fact way. Not obnoxiously arrogant about it but quietly aware. There’s something sinister about him when he smiles, especially when he’s growing out his facial hair. The more-than-a-five-o’clock-shadow look suits him. I have no idea what I said to him when I first went up to him. I don’t really remember what we talked about. I do remember him telling me that his major in college, he went to Berkley, was something like Sex and Women. I guess that should have been a warning sign. I didn’t get the impression that he was a great guy, but he was cute and interesting. A year behind me in school–but three years older– and from California, he was exotic enough for my purposes.

I didn’t mean to sleep with him. I don’t know why I decided to bring him home but I did. He told me at the bar he didn’t smoke weed but when we got back to my place it was apparent that he had more than a little experience with it. I’ve never been good at telling when he’s joking or lying. I don’t know why. I just can’t read him. He’s somewhat of an interesting subject to me– I don’t really understand him but he makes for fascinating study. And I think he felt the same way about me. We were interested in each other but from a distant, objective vantage point.

But we had chemistry and it was easy to forgive myself for bringing someone home after I’d resolved not to. We exchanged numbers but none of the standard pleasantries the next morning. We both thought the other was weird and had no qualms about making that clear.

I knew after that night that he was bad news. That first night that he stayed over, after I’d picked him up at the bar, I had a dream about him. There was some story line involving the Ex and my new partner in crime but I couldn’t remember the details. But I did remember that in my dream he turned into my a werewolf. For some reason this stuck with me. Occasionally I’ll have an extraordinarily vivid dream and it will stick with me throughout the day, unsettling and sometimes unpleasant. I couldn’t remember the details of this dream but I remembered the part about the werewolf. I place a high predictive value on my dreams. Sometimes, in a way, they’ve come true. The night before the Ex broke up with me, I dreamt it. I woke up the next morning, relieved it was just a dream. Later that day he broke up with me over email. I’m sure there are great reasons for this occasional premonition; I probably sensed it before on some level and that weaseled its way into my dream, warning me.

I knew the werewolf meant something bad. I was right but I didn’t listen. I still don’t listen when it comes to him– the Werewolf– never mine but always with me. I’ve gotten better about saying no to the bad ideas but not about seeing him.

If I’d known what would happen because I got involved with him, I’m sure I would have done it anyway. He was bad news for me, and still is. There will always be something devilish about him and it will probably always be hard for me to resist him, even though I know how bad things have gotten when I’m involved with him. If I hadn’t met him I probably wouldn’t be writing this now. He was part of all the trouble that got me into this. But given a second chance I’d do it again because there’s something about him that bewitched me, starting that night in the bar. I met him when he was human but eventually we both descended into the madness together, transforming from man to wolf.

Howling at the moon.


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