DRAFT
2002
When I was 40 years old in 2002, I placed an ad in the women seeking men category on Craigslist. Specifically, I was looking for a fellow Scorpio who could match my intensity without being intimidated by it. One reply out of hundreds stood out. He sent me a photo, and it was intriguing and enigmatic. He was behind a double bass, either playing it or just holding it up. I don’t remember.
I could tell that “Scorpio17,” aka James Roberts, age 50, was overweight, even as he stood behind the double bass. “Good,” I thought, “he won’t be thinner than me.” I was height-and-weight proportionate and didn’t mind at all if he wasn’t. In the ad, I wrote that if their vision was blurry without glasses, even better! I wore contact lenses and wanted to meet someone who needed glasses, too. James and I began communicating via email, and we had established a good rapport. He met all of my qualifications, and I trusted him.
I thought it was time to meet up in person so I informed my two roommates, Bob and Tony, that I was inviting him over for dinner. They graciously prepared the meal for us and then left us alone. Everything seemed fine so far. After we finished our meal, I invited him downstairs to my room and asked him if he wanted to watch SpongeBob SquarePants on TV. It was a test to see how easygoing he was. He’d never heard of SpongeBob SquarePants, but he was perfectly content to watch it with me. I introduced him to my two cats, Wylie and Mimi. He appeared unbothered by them, which was an added bonus!
I then compromised my personal integrity by getting personal with him. I took the back of his hand and placed it where my cleavage was, which you couldn’t see because I was buttoned up all the way. But the intent was clear. His wife had just filed for divorce that day, and I was going to make sure he forgot all about the heartache.
After that night, we began seeing each other on a steady basis. There were two things he wasn’t able to do: blow a bubble with chewing gum or whistle. I was determined to teach him how to do both, and I did, during a break from work.
I’d had my birthday in October shortly before we met, and his was next in November. Two Scorpios celebrating their birthdays together He surprised me with his generosity when he bought me an airline ticket to accompany him to his timeshare in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. The weather was ideal, and while we were there, I kept checking in with my pet sitter to see how the kitties were doing. They were fine. I used a reputable service, and James ended up paying for the pet sitter for me, which completely took me by surprise.
We continued seeing each other, up until he dumped me a fifth time. By then, I was already working at the Free Clinic in San Francisco. I was done with him on an intimate level, but we did, however, stay in touch.
One day after I got off work, he was waiting for me and insisted we talk. So, I rode around with him while he chose to use that time to critique me. We were stopped at a red light, and I got out of the car, crying as I was walking. It was in that moment I should have told him to get the f**k away from me! But he talked me into getting in the car again, and he showed me a letter from his ex. I refused to read it and couldn’t wait to get away from him. So, he dropped me off at my vehicle in the Presidio, and from there, I went home, certain I was done with this clown.
But we continued to stay in touch, and the emails flowed. He was unemployed at the time and looking for meaningful employment. He couldn’t get healthcare benefits on his own because this period of time predated the Affordable Healthcare Act under the Obama administration, so I signed him up to get healthcare benefits as my domestic partner, because I knew what it was like to not have coverage.
The CEO, Derrick, of the Free Clinic was being promoted to President and would be leaving his position, creating a vacancy for a six-month position. I thought of my ex and set up a lunch meeting among the three of us. Derrick, Mr. Roberts, and I discussed the position and what qualifications would be required. Derrick gave Mr. Roberts the contact information for Ethel Foster, the board chair of the clinic.
Mr. Roberts contacted Ethel, and it turned out that the recruiter Ethel chose and Mr. Roberts were friends. Mr. Roberts hadn’t been considered a candidate for the position, but that all changed when he revised his curriculum vitae to be a natural fit for the CEO position. Mr. Roberts, with his razzle-dazzle style, then charmed the board of directors, and after a thorough background check, was offered the temporary position, as a “fixer.”
It was not easy working with Mr. Roberts, as he could be moody, and the management team was doing all it could to sabotage him. Nonetheless, I had enough time with the organization to keep him on the right track to meet his goals and to keep the management team’s efforts at bay as I continued to run interference on behalf of the clinic. Later, Mr. Roberts maneuvered to have his middle son Aaron brought on board in IT.
After the six-month period was up, Mr. Roberts applied for the permanent position of CEO, and again razzle-dazzled the board, and he was hired as the permanent CEO. Was I happy about this? No, I wasn’t. I started looking for another job, and when I told him, his eyes welled up with tears. Good grief. Alright, I’ll stay, and I was given a promotion and salary increase.
I loved working for the clinic and didn’t want to leave in the first place. I put my heart and soul into my career, which was very satisfying if not exhausting. I was on call 24/7, plus I worked six days a week, sometimes seven. But I was able to spend some of that time working from home with my laptop and cell phone. I was very dedicated and fulfilled responsibilities that weren’t initially mine, including being in charge of transportation and writing all of the security guards’ post orders for the contract security company we hired, which failed to write their own post orders. Everything I submitted was unanimously approved by the board, including instituting agency-wide policies and procedures, and I was pleased with this.
With that came more responsibilities, including training the San Francisco Police Department’s off-duty officers for the 10B assignment. (The SFPD “10-B” program—officially known as Police Law Enforcement Services (PLES)—is a service that allows private entities, local businesses, and event organizers to hire off-duty, uniformed SFPD officers for private security details.)
Eventually, the clinic planned to merge with a larger nonprofit corporation in the area. This meant that our time there was coming to an end, and I thought I was ready to get away from Mr. Roberts.
When Mr. Roberts and I met approximately 20 plus years ago, I should have recognized his twisted nature from the beginning. For example, I had never had a sexually transmitted infection (STI). However, shortly after we began an intimate relationship, I was diagnosed with an STI.
When Mr. Roberts later experienced an outbreak, he accused me of giving him herpes. After confronting him, he admitted that he’d had it since he was 19 and didn’t know it was transmissible without an active outbreak. At this point, I was afraid no one else would want me after my diagnosis, so I remained in a relationship with him.
I didn’t fully grasp the full depth of Mr. Roberts’ deceit or the level of toxicity until quite recently. The truth of the matter was that I couldn’t imagine being with someone who would knowingly or intentionally cause harm to anyone, let alone a loved one.
2011
Before Mr. Roberts and I moved in together in 2011, I was an independent, tidy, creative, responsible problem solver who could point out the details of a scenario while also seeing the big picture. The latter combination is a commendable quality. I lived alone at that time, and my apartment didn’t have any issues; it was comfortable with the way I had it set up for me and my three cats. On the other hand, Mr. Roberts’ house in Moraga had mold in the walls and mushrooms growing in the carpet. He ultimately rented a house in Martinez so that I would give up my apartment in San Francisco, and it worked—for three days, that is.
Mr. Roberts had a habit of inviting his family members over and leaving the house before they arrived without telling me. The first time, it happened three days after my arrival in the new home. Mr. Roberts had invited his mother, Jo, and his sister, Betty, without telling me, and then left the house. What struck me as odd was that they let themselves in with their own key! Was there any emergency that I needed to be notified of? No, they were there to tour the house.
I was resting in bed when they arrived; I suffer from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, and Mr. Roberts hadn’t lifted a finger to help me move any of my belongings.
When Jo and Betty let themselves in, I was upstairs; I had no idea they were coming over. I was overly tired after moving all of my pets’ belongings, including their assortment of cat furniture. That was the first priority, really—getting the animals settled first before doing anything else. I got them set up and was satisfied. They had a walk-in closet, complete with their own compact refrigerator for their raw diet. In other words, I went above and beyond to care for them.
Needless to say, when Jo and Betty let themselves in without even knocking, I was upset and felt as if my privacy had been violated. I could hear them downstairs chatting excitedly as they gave themselves a tour and opened and closed the kitchen cupboards. I was accustomed to living alone and didn’t appreciate the intrusion. Was this going to be a regular occurrence? They left when I came down the stairs.
When Mr. Roberts came home, I was pissed. As I stood in the kitchen washing the cats’ dishes in the sink, I told Mr. Roberts I was returning to my apartment in San Francisco and bringing my cats and their supplies with me. I didn’t care about anything I would be leaving behind. As far as I was concerned, he could keep everything or throw it away. I didn’t care.
As I stood at the kitchen sink, telling him I was leaving, he pressed up against me, as if to intimidate me, but I ignored him. He turned and walked out of the house and drove off again.
I then packed up the cats and their belongings into my Ford Bronco and headed back to San Francisco, certain I was doing the right thing—getting away from Mr. Roberts and his lack of respect for my having boundaries.
Soon, Mr. Roberts was parked illegally at my door. Surely he would have to leave soon. So, I let him in. Did he apologize? No. Instead, he was adamant that everything would be fine and that I come back to the house. I let him know that the key to the house was for emergencies only, and that this couldn’t happen again. He agreed, and I returned to Martinez with my animals and their belongings in tow.
Neither Mr. Roberts nor I was working, so obviously, our time was our own, to do with as we pleased. We were both laid off due to a merger at a world-renowned non-profit in San Francisco, the Free Clinic. I started working there in 2003, and he was hired in 2005. This was after he had dumped me for the fifth time as his girlfriend. The current CEO, Derrick, at the Free Clinic was leaving his position, and a recruiter was searching for a replacement—a “fixer” for a six-month period to close the clinic down due to malfeasance by the former CFO.
As a courtesy to Mr. Roberts, given that he was a consultant type-fixer, I set up a lunch meeting between Derek, Mr. Roberts, and me at a restaurant on Lombard Street. Derek was sufficiently impressed and provided Mr. Roberts with the contact information of the board chair, Ethel Foster. Mr. Roberts got in touch with Ethel, who then put him in touch with the recruiter. As it turned out, Mr. Roberts and the recruiter were already friends, but Mr. Roberts hadn’t even been considered a candidate. Mr. Roberts tailored his curriculum vitae to fit the profile of what they were looking for in a candidate.
He then met with the board of directors and sufficiently razzle-dazzled them into hiring him. He can be very persuasive. During that first six months, I was able to navigate Mr. Roberts through the pitfalls of working with a management team that was regularly attempting to sabotage his efforts to succeed as interim CEO. I don’t believe that they saw the big picture—that if Mr. Roberts failed, the clinic would permanently close its doors.
And so, with many hours being dedicated to the cause, with our blood, sweat, and tears, the clinic was to remain open but move to a new location where its service expanded to serve the homeless population and provide treatment for drug and alcohol addiction.
The clinic seemed to be flourishing, but to ensure its ongoing success, it was decided and approved by the board of directors to merge with a larger non-profit in San Francisco to keep the doors open over the long haul.
Due to the upcoming merger, there would be layoffs of clinic staff to make room for the larger non-profit to take over. As our time at the clinic was coming to an end, Mr. Roberts became increasingly psychologically and emotionally abusive. I called in sick and refused to go into the office. Instead, I contacted the board chair and advised him that I wanted to be laid off early with a generous severance package. The next day, on August 5, 2010, Mr. Roberts called me and followed up with an email stating that I should work with Human Resources for the details of my severance package.
As a result, I was laid off and became entangled in a romantic relationship once more with Mr. Roberts, including leaving my relationship with my boyfriend Will Lewis, a Special Agent with the FBI in Las Vegas, where he tried many times to get me to move.
That’s when Mr. Roberts and I moved in together in the East Bay, specifically, Martinez, in 2011.
