In other hands, with a little poetic license, this could have been a story on a grand dramatic scale. But it isn't a drama - it's a case history. And even though we're given such details as the make of cars they leaned against and the type of wine they drank, and the locations of their sexual exploits, the passion is missing. It's about as clinical a narrative of a love affair as one is ever apt to find.
The author's a psychiatrist now, having learned his lessons well. From the safe distance afforded by time, divorce, geography, and a pseudonym he can tell his tale as a comfort, and perhaps a warning, to others whose lives have been touched by a borderline. The author's hope is also that his book will lead to a better understanding of the disorder so that those who suffer from it will be better understood and treated. That's a mighty big hope. In his own story, his wife uses her illness as just one more weapon in her armory. "But you know I'm mentally ill," she'd whine whenever she wanted to avoid the consequences of her behavior. Borderlines often do eventually grow out of their maladaptive behaviors, as long as they never have children to torment into the next generation. Their beauty and their charms wane, their indulgent parents die, and they're left alone with their emptiness. It's hard to be a borderline if you can't beguile someone into paying attention to you.
As for the author's ex-wife, the last we hear from her she's found a new man. One who's older and established. Not one who wants to be her savior, but one who has plenty of time and money with which to savor her. You can't help but suspect she's found some measure of happiness - at least for a little while.
Article comments
1 - Lisa Williams
Love the use of links -- I laughed at the links that led to Stephen Glass & Princess Di. Props.