My first book, Love Fraud — how marriage to a sociopath fulfilled my spiritual plan, tells the outrageous true story of my sociopathic ex-husband’s betrayal. But it is also a story of healing. This is the final installment of my Valentine’s Day series of excerpts from my book about finding my true love. To catch up, I invite you to read:
By Donna Andersen
Terry retained his job, but a few years later his employer closed his office and wanted him to work from home. We were happy, he no longer needed to live near the office, so we decided that he would move in with me. We planned a big moving sale to get rid of a multitude of duplicate household items. Terry promised that after the sale, we’d celebrate.
Terry kept his promise for a celebration by getting tickets to see Acoustic Alchemy, a contemporary instrumental band fronted by two acoustic guitar players. The show was at Zanzibar Blue in Philadelphia on Saturday, October 30, 2004, and before it, we had a reservation for dinner at the swanky Grill Room in the Ritz-Carlton Hotel. To get there on time, we planned to leave at 4:30 p.m.
At 4:10 p.m., I was still at my desk. Terry was antsy, but I knew I would be ready on time. My outfit was laid out; I was wearing my black knit pants and tank top, covered by a beaded, sapphire-blue overshirt. All I had to do was put on my makeup.
“Are you ready?” Terry asked, impatiently pacing in his suit, tailored shirt and tie.
“Almost,” I replied, as I sat at my dressing table. “I can’t find my mascara.”
A minute later, he walked into the bedroom carrying a narrow tube. “Is this what you’re looking for?” he asked. “It was in the bathroom.”
“Yes,” I replied, although I didn’t know how it got into the bathroom—I always put on makeup at the dressing table. I quickly finished, and was ready to leave at 4:34 p.m.
We pulled up in front of the Ritz-Carlton. The building was once a bank, and had the same classic architecture that we saw at the Roman Maison Carrée in Nîmes, France—six massive columns, topped by Ionic capitals, supporting a triangular pediment. A uniformed doorman smiled and held the door as we walked into the domed marble rotunda, now a lounge. We went right to the restaurant, which also had a traditional, sophisticated look—high ceilings, crystal chandeliers, Oriental carpets, long white tablecloths and Chippendale-style chairs.
We were seated in a booth along the wall. The maitre d’, a woman, unfolded the napkins onto our laps with a flourish. Our waiter was a middle-aged man who looked like he’d been working in sophisticated restaurants for decades. He asked if we’d like something to drink.
“We’re having champagne tonight,” Terry replied.
That was fine with me—I liked champagne. For dinner, I ordered a field green salad and wild sea bass. Terry ordered a salad with warm goat cheese and pork loin. In our dinner conversation, Terry complimented me, talking about how determined I was, and how I overcame all the crap that was thrown my way.
Suddenly, I had a flash of intuition: Terry was going to propose.
We finished our dinner and champagne, then decided to share dessert— warm chocolate cake with nut ice cream. I excused myself to use the ladies’ room. When I returned to the table, the waiter had refolded my napkin. I sat down and put it on my lap, in anticipation of our sweet dessert.
It was far sweeter than I expected.
“You know I love you,” Terry said. “And I want to marry you.” He put a small black velvet jewelry box on the table.
Despite my intuitive flash, I stared at the box in total disbelief. The only words that came out of my mouth were, “Thank you.”
“Will you marry me?” he asked.
“Yes, of course,” I said, still dazed. I looked up at him, then down at the box. “Open it,” Terry said.
“Thank you,” I said again, reaching for the box. Inside was a beautiful diamond solitaire. We never discussed marriage. Terry never dropped a hint that he was thinking about marriage. I was in shock.
“It’s a little more than one carat,” he said. “A beautiful diamond for your beautiful heart. And your beautiful soul.”
I just sat there looking at the ring in the box. “Thank you,” I repeated.
“Put it on.”
The ring fit perfectly. I modeled the diamond for Terry.
“It looks beautiful on you,” he said.
“Thank you,” I answered. It was all I could say.
“By the way, we’re staying here tonight.”
“We are?” I asked, totally surprised again.
“That’s why your mascara was missing. I was running around grabbing a few things for you. I know you need your mascara.”
“Oh, that’s why I couldn’t find it. Did you get a case for my contact lenses?” Terry had forgotten about that. But the Ritz had toothbrushes and bathrobes, and they’d go to the store for a contact lens case and solution. He’d been planning the surprise, planning to propose, ever since he decided to move into my house. “I’m not going to be the live-in guy,” he said. “I love you, and I’m not afraid to commit to you.”
After dinner we walked, or perhaps floated, a few blocks down Broad Street to Zanzibar Blue. The performance by Acoustic Alchemy was wonderful, but my happiness was even more wonderful. My heart overflowed with joy. I kept looking at the diamond on my finger. It was still there. And unlike the engagement ring that I received from James Montgomery, it was real.
Be sure to watch Lovefraud Live on Tuesday, February 14 at 8 pm ET. My husband, Terry, will be my special guest! Sign up for a Youtube reminder.
Name a cockroach after your ex and feed it to a wild animal