On and off and on again

Well, needless to say a lot has happened since I wrote this. The health issues continue, but it’s something I would rather not delve into at the moment.
Since my last post… let’s see… I came back to David in Canada, and we got married. Things started to go downhill shortly after. Well, in truth, they were already going down before that. But the moment of truth for me was when, during our honeymoon, he had a huge tantrum and guilt tripped me into having sex during the day (I wanted to wait until night time because I was having a really tough day with my bladder pain). He literally told me that he didn’t know if he could stay with me, and then gave me the silent treatment until I was crying so much and getting so horrified that this was happening on our honeymoon, that I just.. did it with him. That was very fucked up, and I still hate him for it. That was in June. Around September (this is 2011) I moved into the spare bedroom. When we moved into another apartment, I moved in with his sister and her boyfriend, and that was pretty much it. I literally had the clothes on my back, still no PR, no job, no family or even a friend to lean on, but at that time I would rather have died than continue to live with him. Then, I met Mark – a long story We dated for a while, and he ended up breaking my heart, though not meaning to. He has became one of the only (actually, probably THE only) person I feel like I truly know and trust. We are still good friends to this day, and I still love him like crazy. But again it’s something I don’t want to go into, perhaps because those feelings are still very much raw.. right on the surface.
When Mark and I ended things… well that was a shitty year. I missed him horribly and was super lonely. At least I had gotten my PR and had a job – thank god. I feel like working literally kept me alive that year (2012). It was all I had. I would literally get up, go to work (I loved my job), come home, chill out alone for a bit, go to sleep, do it all over again. By this time I had moved out of David’s sister’s apartment (well, he had kicked me out) and I was renting a room in a house in North York. It was a long, lonely summer. I had met Matt, and we had had such an amazing first date – we were both super excited at first, I think. We got along really well and the sex was out of this world. But he turned out to be THE flakiest person I have ever come in contact with. And that’s coming from me. After the first month or so, he would always postpone plans, be super vague about when to meet up, etc. I tired of it quickly, and told him to get his shit together. We didn’t hang out for a while, and then he messaged me once months later asking if he could take me to dinner to make it up to me for being a douche. I still really liked him, so I skeptically said yes. Alas.. he stood me up. I waited for 20 minutes in the cold, and went home. He then texted me like 10 times with lame excuses saying his bus broke down or something equally lame. That was it… such a shame, for someone with whom I had such amazing chemistry, both sexual and non, but I just gave up on him. Still have him on FB,  he comments on my stuff sometimes, randomly.
Shortly after I moved downtown, and met Dennis, who is wonderful…treats me like a queen, and is always there, always present.. and super loving and affectionate, which were all the things missing when I was with Mark. My sexy Russian soldier! Things have been a lot less lonely since. He doesn’t have PR, so we have been stressing out about that a lot. It’s likely we will have to be apart for a while while that gets sorted out. I feel like I’m living the immigration hell all over again – this time it’s not me, but it’s someone I love, which is just as crappy. I just really want things to work out so we can be together.
That was… a lacking summary of the last couple of years, I realize. But it’s better than nothing. So.. over and out.

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