Then, there was the rich boy who wanted to save me. He knew I’d successfully been sober for two years at that point, yet he wanted me to see his psychiatrist friend. He assured me I could drink again if I went to see the guy. Perhaps he just needed a drinking buddy! On a trip to Portugal, we stayed at the Ritz-Carlton, no less, and, despite his wealth, he stole not only the towels and bathrobes from the room but the feather pillows too! He was an emotional abuser, constantly telling me how I could improve my looks with bigger breasts, more makeup, or the latest fad in beauty products. I did buy into it for a while. But now, as I now look back at pictures, I see that I was pretty and young at 28 and didn’t need any enhancements. One day, when he called to tell me he was going on a ski trip with a friend, I was finally able to tell him to go ahead without me and never, ever call me back. How could I have been with a guy I didn’t even like? I felt like hitting my head against the wall at my stupidity, especially since I thought I’d learned what love wasn’t from my previous failed relationship!