My relationship with Bobby the drunk was speeding out of control. We met. We walked my dog. He moved in with me. It all happened so fast without any consideration for the future. After only three months of cohabitation with Bobby, I completely stopped hanging out with my closest friends, afraid of what they would think about this freeloader living with me.
The truth, as I saw it, was that Bobby needed me and I needed to be needed. He was a musician. I recognized his talent. I thought if I loved him enough, believed in him and nurtured his creativity, then he would become the rock star he was destined to be. And it would all happen because of me. The way I saw it, I was only supporting him until he got his big break. After all, he was working hard writing new songs and rehearsing. In fact, he wrote a song for me. Honestly, I don't remember the words but I do recall feeling thrilled that he wrote something for me. I didn't know then that I should have been feeling concern instead of elated. My life was about to take a giant leap into a big black hole of fear.