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Almost a decade ago, I went on a spectacular journey with a partner. We drove through the Dolomites, visited a gothic cathedral in Cologne, strolled the footbridges of Venice and looked over the sea from the cliffs of Cinque Terra, Italy.
I remember one particular moment when looking out from those high cliff windows, watching the setting sun’s light sparkle upon the rippling ocean. I was thinking about how I’d never before experienced such adventure and luxuries as during this time with ‘Ron.’ We were visiting gorgeous places, eating delicious foods, and meeting delightful people along the way. There was everything to enjoy about all of this. And yet, amidst all of this beauty, tears were streaming down my face. I was devastated.
I’d been with Ron for several months. He was fun, and charming, and wonderful, and charismatic. I always wanted to be with him, and he with me. I had no doubts about that. And yet when it came to sex, the man seemed almost demoniac. Not only in his desire to be sexual with me several times per day (which was, admittedly, pretty great at first) but also, what seemed an almost frantic need to…
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