The Faces of Eve

Like a cat has three names, she had three personalities, each of them a completely different woman.

Her first personality was the one she gave to the public. Charming, highly competent in anything she did, intelligent, curious and eager to learn, polite and witty, she was the woman you'd see in the work place and want for your friend and confidant. The one you'd want to be seen with going out to cafes, theaters and the cinema. Or go on day trips with to places neither of you had ever been before. Or, because she was content with herself and what she'd made of her life, spend leisurely days and nights with, doing nothing in particular.

I enjoyed her immensely.

Her second personality was the one she only gave to her lover. Deeply caring, generous and supportive to a fault, viciously loyal, and driven by lustful passions that defied all reason, you'd first meet this woman when she made love to you. When she put her arms around you, you'd feel her reaching for your soul to hold it. You knew with certainty that this was the woman you wanted in your life forever, and would do anything to protect and keep safe. And close to you.

I coveted her sinfully.

Then there was her third personality; the woman I suspect she put in the way of anyone who got too close. This woman was an insufferably willful, malcontented bitch. Cruel and abusive and prone to erupt into fits of violent rage that made her hands quick to move with anger, she had a large repertory of insults and criticisms she'd assault you with without any apparent provocation. Disguised as sassy little jokes in her repartee, you wouldn't see them coming until it was too late and you'd said something, or said it in a way, that set her off. Then you'd have no defense against them. If you tried to answer them, she'd brutally talk you down. If you remained silent, she'd hurl them at you relentlessly until finally, in your own defense, you voiced an objection or plea. Whereupon, she'd talk you down again. This time, even more brutally. This woman was defiantly proud of the fact that she didn't need you, took pleasure in disrespecting you, delighted in not listening to you, and was gleeful about telling you in the harshest possible terms she was happy to be all that. If, as a last resort to avoid battling her, you removed yourself, left her company, retreated, she'd indict you severely for the offense and make you pay for it in the nastiest of ways at your next encounter with her. There was no bottom to her hatred and her bliss was be compassionless.

I detested that woman and never got to know her well enough to understand how to make her lay down her weapons.

I wonder now if the three of them knew each other well enough to help her to -- or ever would.

All in all, getting to know two out of the three wasn't bad at all. My only regret is that I couldn't figure out how to let the third woman know that my loving her was not just an end for me, but also a means for her. I regret it because it means I couldn't make her feel safe.

And that makes me wonder: Which of my personalities that I don't see did I put in her way? And, if she had told me, would I have listened?

Did I?