The Man I Fell in Love with is Gone

And I don’t know who this other guy is.

Yesterday was my second court appearance for my divorce.

The first didn’t really count — it was just an appearance to set dates for the appearances that would follow. My husband and I both showed up with our lawyers. Neither of us got to say anything of substance to the judge. They set dates, we wrote them down, the judge left, and we left. Simple.

Yesterday’s appearance was different. Yesterday, we were each put on the witness stand and questioned by the two attorneys. At stake was who would be able to live in the house and use my hangar until the divorce was finalized.

I don’t want to go into detail about what was said and done. Two reasons. First, I don’t want to save the experience forever on the pages of this blog. It was extremely painful to me on so many levels. Second, my lawyers would probably scold me, depending on how much detail I provided and what I said. It’s not worth pissing off my lawyers or getting into trouble. My legal team rocks.

But I do want to briefly touch upon what I realized when my husband came to the stand and began answering questions that he and his lawyer had likely rehearsed in advance: he was not the man I fell in love with.

It’s funny, in a way, because it looked like him and it sounded like him. But the things he said were not the kinds of things the man I fell in love with would say about me. The man I fell in love with loved me just as much as I loved him — if not more. He always spoke kindly to and of me. He always defended me.

This man, however, was in attack mode, bending and stretching the truth (almost beyond recognition) to make a case against me. The man I fell in love with would never do that.

No Real Surprise

I don’t know why this surprised me so much. I knew the man I fell in love with was gone. I knew it this summer.

In June, while going through a pile of papers that I’d brought with me to Washington to sort out when I had time, I came across two greeting cards that the man I fell in love with had sent me years ago. They were the kinds of cards people in love share with each other, sometimes for no apparent reason other than to express their love. I can’t remember exactly what they said, but I do recall one of them mentioning “love” and “forever.”

I sat on the floor in my RV, looking at the two cards and thinking about the man who had sent them to me years ago. And as I thought about it, I realized that that man was gone — dead, I thought. The man I’d left in Arizona in May didn’t give me cards or flowers or anything else for no special reason. The man I left in Arizona spent most of his time glaring at me when I did something he didn’t like. The man I left in Arizona seemed almost too eager for me to leave.

So I wrote a letter to the man I’d left in Arizona — who is apparently the same man who showed up in court yesterday. I appealed to him to remember the old days, the days when he told me that I needed to “make it happen,” the days when he was an idealistic dreamer and inventor. I asked him what happened to that man. I told him what I suspected: that that man was dead.

I didn’t know it, but as I was writing that letter, the man I’d left in Arizona had already found my replacement. His response to my letter arrived in my mailbox, forwarded with my mail, the day after my birthday, the day after he told me he wanted a divorce.

Right now, all I regret is sending the man I’d left in Arizona those cards. They’re gone now, along with the man who sent them to me, the man I fell in love with. I’d really like to have them back to help me remember him and the way things were.

The Upside

Amazing as it may seem, there is an upside to all this.

Listening to the man in the witness box bend and stretch the truth to build a case against me was like a slap in the face — a slap of reality. Although he’s spread the word among family and friends — and even to me in email messages and written notes — that he still cares about me, that’s so obviously not true. It’s just another lie in a long series of lies that were likely spun to put me off guard about what’s to come. The man in the witness box doesn’t give a shit about me and the 29 years he and the man I fell in love with spent with me. The man in the witness box is simply seeking revenge for imagined offenses. The man in the witness box cares only about himself.

And knowing that now, without a shadow of a doubt, will help me begin my healing process.

Gold Digger

A definition that I find extremely fitting for a certain person.

As I learn more and more about what’s been going on in Arizona since I left in May, a term came up that I find extremely fitting for one of the parties involved. From the New Oxford American Dictionary:

gold digger
noun informal
a person who dates others purely to extract money from them, in particular a woman who strives to marry a wealthy man.

What amazes me is how easily a weak man can be led around by his penis.

The Pain of Betrayal

The reality is much worse than I imagined.

Back when I was writing fiction, one of my plots involved two characters who developed a deep romantic relationship.

be•tray | biˈtrā |
verb [ with obj. ]
1 expose (one’s country, a group, or a person) to danger by treacherously giving information to an enemy: a double agent who betrayed some 400 British and French agents to the Germans.

  • treacherously reveal (secrets or information): many of those employed by diplomats betrayed secrets and sold classified documents.
  • be disloyal to: his friends were shocked when he betrayed them.

2 unintentionally reveal; be evidence of: she drew a deep breath that betrayed her indignation.
DERIVATIVES
be•tray•al | -əl | noun,
be•tray•er noun
ORIGIN Middle English: from be-‘thoroughly’ + obsolete traybetray,’ from Old French trait, based on Latin traderehand over.’ Compare with traitor.

Jack, the woman in the story, was damaged goods — she’d lost her husband, who she loved dearly, when he killed a man in a jealous rage and was locked up in a foreign prison. For years, she tried bribing guards to get him out — stealing to get the money she needed — only to learn that he’d been dead almost as long as he’d been gone. She’d become an outlaw, basically destroying her own life, to get back a man who would never return. Along the way, she lost their child to a family member who threatened to expose her if she tried to find them. With everything she loved taken away from her, she took refuge alone in an outpost city, a borderline alcoholic watched over by a very close friend named Alex. That’s her backstory.

The man, Ray, entered at the beginning of the story as another outlaw who had chosen to take refuge in the same outpost city. He quickly became friends with Alex, and through him, with Jack. They had many similarities in their knowledge and skills and it was natural that they should hook up. They worked together as a team. His companionship and their lovemaking helped her forget the tragedy of her past. She fell in love with him and it seemed pretty clear that he felt the same way about her.

The only problem is that Ray wasn’t what he seemed. In reality, he’d come to take Alex out of the city. He was using his friendship with Jack and Alex as a means to achieve his real goal. As the plot unfolded, he stood by while one of his men gunned Jack down. Jack survived it, but was left with the pain of the feeling of betrayal.

As a writer, I had to instill my character with that emotion. It had to come through her in the way she spoke, looked, and acted. It wasn’t enough to say she felt betrayed; I had to get inside her head and make her feel betrayed. And then communicate that to readers.

That’s fiction. Whether I pulled it off will never really be known; the work is at a standstill and will never be published or shared.

But one thing is for certain: the feeling of betrayal is far worse than I ever could have imagined.

I’m going through it now. After 29 years of a life with a man I loved, a man who claimed he loved me and acted as if he did — right up to the moment I last saw him! — I’m discovering a huge web of lies and actions behind my back. As I learn more and more about his betrayal of my trust, everything that comes before our last communication is in question — including his true motivations for marrying me in the first place. As I realize that I can’t believe a single thing he told me, the pain grows and grows.

What makes it even worse in this situation is his complete failure to explain his actions. It’s as if he just doesn’t care — something I’m finding so hard to believe and accept after a 29-year relationship. But it confirms my worst suspicions about his actions and motivations.

A complete and utter betrayal of my trust, possibly going back for years and years.

The pain of betrayal is the worst pain possible. It’s a pain without end, rooted in once fond memories now analyzed and questioned. It’s pain made worse by realizing that someone you thought really cared about you apparently doesn’t care at all. Or, worse yet, is now bent on hurting you as much as he possibly can.

That’s where I am today.

Weight and Balance: A Primer for Passengers

Or why you shouldn’t lie to your pilot about your weight.

The other day, I booked a scenic flight for three passengers. At the time of the booking, I took the passenger names and weights — as I always do. Here’s what I was told:

Joe: 200 lbs
Bill: 200 lbs
Sally: 150 lbs

Why Pilots Ask for Weights

You might be wondering why a pilot needs the weight of passengers on a flight. After all, when you book a flight on United or US Airways, they don’t ask how much you weight. Why should a helicopter pilot care?

First of all, you should be aware that the airlines do care about weights. Weight information is required to calculate aircraft weight and balance (W&B) at takeoff and landing. The airlines are allowed, however, to use a blanket estimate for each person’s weight. This is set forth in an Advisory Circular issued by the FAA. (I found AC 120027C dated 1995, but I think this has been recently revised to account for heavier passengers; can’t find the new info, though.)

As a Part 135 operator of a small aircraft, I’m required to calculate an accurate weight and balance for each flight I conduct. The calculation is complex and customized to my aircraft. If I had to do it manually, it would take a good 15-20 minutes — with a calculator. Fortunately, I’ve created an Excel worksheet that does the number crunching and calculations for me, so the whole process, which I can do on my laptop, takes less than 5 minutes and spits out a required flight manifest and flight plan at the same time.

Weight and balance is important for safe flight. An aircraft is loaded out of CG (center of gravity) could fly erratically or have impaired controls. For example, if my helicopter is loaded too heavy up front, I might not be able to pull the cyclic back far enough to arrest forward movement in flight. That would make stopping and landing very difficult indeed.

Likewise, an aircraft loaded beyond maximum gross weight will not perform to specifications and could suffer structural damage. For example, if my helicopter is carrying a heavier load than what’s specified in my Pilot Operating Handbook (POH) and legally allowed, I might not be able to hover in ground effect or take off with a climb rate sufficient to avoid obstacles.

What a Weight and Balance Calculation Looks Like

A weight and balance calculation includes a bunch of very large numbers that are subsequently divided to make much smaller numbers. The result is plotted on a graph surrounded by boundaries often called an envelope. The goal is for the plotted points and the line often drawn between them to be within the envelope.

Here’s what the W&B calculations and envelopes look like for the charter flight with Joe’s party with 1/2 tanks of fuel on board:

Weight & Balance

Note that the plotted square and triangle are within the envelope for both Longitudinal and Lateral Weight and Balance. I can look at these two graphs and see that based on how I’ve seated the passengers, we’ll be a little heavy in front and on the pilot’s side. But the weight distribution is within the range my aircraft and its controls can handle.

It’s Not a Time to Be Vain

Weight and age are the two things people are least likely to be truthful about. As a pilot, I don’t care how old you are — I’ve flown with passengers aged 6 months up to 95 years — but I do care how much you weigh. Lying is not in your best interest at all.

But because I assume people will lie, I automatically add 10 pounds to each passenger’s stated weight when calculating my W&B. So here’s the revised W&B looks like for Joe’s party:

Weight and Balance

Now we’re starting to get closer to the limits. The weight is way up front now — almost at my limit. Still okay to fly, still legal. But I know that there’s very little wiggle room.

I know from experience that I can make the situation better by putting a lighter person up front. So maybe I’d put Sally in the seat beside me. Here’s what that looks like:

Weight and Balance

That looks a lot better. See how the two boxes in the top graph have shifted to the right? That means the weight is shifted aft. More balanced.

But I also know from experience that some men are unlikely to take a back seat to their wives. And I know that big guys don’t fit very well in the back seat of my helicopter. There was a pretty good chance that the guy who’d booked the flight and was paying for it would not sit in the back.

Getting it Wrong Can Make it Dangerous

Unfortunately, not everyone underestimates weight by just a pound or two. Sometimes, they’re very wrong. Consider Joe’s party. Turns out that they’d underestimated weights by at about 20 pounds per person. Now my W&B calculation looks like this:

Weight and Balance

Ouch. As you can see here, the two plotted points on the top graph are just outside the envelope for forward CG. That means that the aircraft would be too nose-heavy for safe flight.

How could I fix the problem? Again, I could shuffle around the passengers, putting the lightest one up front. I could take the contents of the pilot’s baggage compartment and shift it to the baggage compartment for one of the back seats — or leave it behind. Loading less fuel would not help — although it would reduce the weight of the aircraft (and the endurance time), it wouldn’t resolve the CG issue.

How do I know all this? By playing what-if with my Excel spreadsheet and observing the results.

Don’t Lie to Your Pilot

What bothers me sometimes is the flippant attitude some passengers have about weight. These people were a good example. The man who booked the flight didn’t take any of it seriously. He just threw some numbers at me to answer my question. I could tell when I laid eyes on them that they were heavier than reported. One passenger confirmed his weight at 220; the other passenger’s wife confirmed his weight at 220. 20 pounds is not a small error. It’s 10%.

In this case, it was the difference between a safe flight and a potentially unsafe one.

What they don’t realize is that underestimating or just plain lying about weights can make a flight dangerous. They can put their lives at risk by providing incorrect information. Is it worth it? Just so a stranger thinks you weigh less than you really do?

I don’t think so.

Arguing with a True Believer

It’s a waste of time.

I’m a skeptic. I’ve been a skeptic for at least the past 10 years, although I didn’t have a label for it way back when. After realizing that there was no proof in a lot of things I’d been told to simply believe, I started looking at things with a more skeptic eye. Although you can’t prove a negative — for example, something doesn’t exist — you can withhold believe until proof of the positive. That’s where I sit now.

Mary’s Mother

It’s also where I sat a few days ago when a house guest brought up the topic of a person’s spirit continuing to exist after death. When she — we’ll call her Mary (not her real name) — asked me whether I believed a person’s spirit existed after death, I said, without hesitation, no. She then launched into a long story about why she believed that spirits do go on after death.

It was kind of pitiful. Mary’s mother had died about two years before after about a year of declining health. Mary lived in California. Her mother lived in New York. Her mother was financially stable and had hired in-home nurses to care for her as she began the dying process. She’d been an alcoholic for most of her life and although she was always upbeat and fun, her last months were painful. Mary believed that the Hispanic nurses had held back on pain medication until her mother “accepted Jesus” — not very likely, as she was Jewish — and, as a result, her mother’s eventual death was more painful than it should have been.

Mary and her brother visited during the months their mother’s health was declining. In the end, they stayed until it was over.

Mary claims that a few days after her mother died, she had a dream that convinced her that her mother had died “a horrible death.” (I have trouble believing that, as she was fortunate enough to die at home with family nearby.) Mary claimed that her mother’s spirit was trapped in her house, unable to escape to whatever other place spirits are supposed to go.

Desperate to resolve the situation and save her mother’s tortured spirit, she sent a family member to the now unoccupied house to tell her mom to leave. (Mary was back in California by this time.) I don’t know if this family member actually did this.

Mary then contacted a psychic in California for assistance. I didn’t get all the details on the first contact. Apparently, Mary e-mailed the psychic a photo of her mother. I don’t know if she provided her mother’s name. In any case, they spoke by phone and the psychic managed to convince Mary that she could communicate with her dead mother. Tarot cards were involved; Mary didn’t understand why she needed them but was willing to put that aside. She told Mary that her mother was indeed trapped in her home and that the only way to free her spirit was for three people in three different places to light candles and play her mother’s favorite music and pray to her mother to “cross over.” I think they had to do this for three days in a row, but I may have that wrong.

So Mary asked her husband and cousin to do this. She did it, too. She says she’s not sure if her cousin did it.

Afterwards, she met with the physic in person. The psychic told her she did not remember their initial contact. She asked the psychic about her mother’s spirit. The psychic said that her mother’s spirit had been trapped but then something had “popped” (her word) and her mother had crossed over.

Mission accomplished.

I don’t know how much money exchanged hands, but I know Mary can afford whatever it was. And I do know that Mary is happy now, so I guess you can easily argue that no harm was done.

I’m not quite that generous, though.

Cold Reading

What followed was a discussion of cold reading, where a “psychic” makes a bunch of guesses and then reads his subject’s response to zero in on actual facts. It is documented that the human mind is more likely to remember correct guesses than incorrect ones. So if a “psychic” does a “psychic reading” and makes 5 correct yes/no guesses, 9 yes/no misses, and one direct hit, people come away thinking that the “psychic” has real psychic power.

Of course, John Edward came up in our conversation. Mary fully believed in his power. She had examples of “proof” of his power. She was not interested in the fact that every John Edward Crossing Over show is taped and then edited. They edit out the discussions he has that result in mostly misses and leave in the results that are mostly hits. The result might be something like this, which I don’t think is very convincing:

Did you watch this video? This is classic cold reading. Throwing out a common name, picking the person who responds, and asking questions to get information. Guessing all kinds of things that are relatively common — cancer, military service, etc. Pulling info out of people with questions. And they think he has real power. But listen carefully. How much is he actually getting right? How much is he telling them? Isn’t it more of a fishing expedition to suck information from people who already believe in his ability?

As Joe Nickell writes in his piece about John Edward:

The “psychic” can obtain clues by observing dress and body language (noting expressions that indicate when one is on or off track), asking questions (which if correct will appear as “hits” but otherwise will seem innocent queries), and inviting the subject to interpret the vague statements offered. For example, nearly anyone can respond to the mention of a common object (like a ring or watch) with a personal recollection that can seem to transform the mention into a hit.

I could not convince Mary. She was not willing to believe in my explanation of how he could have gotten a particular detail correct. The discussion got heated. She kept trying to convince me. I could not be convinced about a “trick” when I knew how it was done.

What I find particularly disturbing about all this is that Mary has a PhD in psychology and treats patients with particularly troubled backgrounds. She should be the voice of reason in these people’s lives. I hope that “woo” does not find its way into her diagnoses or treatments.

Another Friend

When I tried to relate this story to another friend of mine, he said two conflicting things in the same sentence: “You know I’m skeptical about all kinds of things, but I really believe the psychic I go to has real power.”

It was difficult for me not to explode with laughter.

He then went on to tell me about what was likely a personal, one-on-one cold reading. He’d make an easy subject. He’s a real talker and it wouldn’t take much to pull information out of him. He’s also willing to believe, which makes him more likely to remember hits more than misses or turn partial misses into hits by voluntarily providing information that makes a wrong guess right. This is why true believers will always continue to believe. They don’t understand that if a person had real psychic power, he/she should be able to make far more factual statements than errors. And the technique wouldn’t be a glorified guessing game, like the one John Edward plays on his television show.

My friend told me I should go see his psychic for proof. He’d set up an appointment. He’d tell her that I was a skeptical friend —

I stopped him right there. I told him I’d go, but only if he didn’t tell her a single thing about me — including my name. He didn’t seem to understand that she could simply Google me to learn all kinds of things about me that would be useful in her “reading.” It wouldn’t be a cold reading anymore; it would be a hot reading. She could simply recite things off my bio.

Will I go? Only if I’m sure she doesn’t know anything about me when I arrive. I may throw out my first name to see if she takes the hispanic bait (in Arizona, it’s far more likely for a woman named Maria to be Mexican than Italian). I’ll likely dress myself up a bit to alter my appearance and lead her to believe things about me that might not be true. I think these would be good tests of her ability to read minds rather than physical appearances. It would be an interesting experiment.

After all, I am a skeptic. Although I don’t believe that anyone has psychic power, I’m willing to let them try to prove that they do.