This is part 3 of a 3-part entry. Start with part 1 if you haven't read it yet. Otherwise, it might not make much sense!

Besides, I don't think she knows her place with this whole Satanism thing anyway. She calls me her "sexy Warlock". She's enthralled by that. She's even said in bed "I want to be fucked by a warlock". She described in detail certain fantasies, both last time and this time, of being fucked on top of a giant pentagram. And this time in her fantasy wanting a circle of other warlocks around her. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with having sexual fantasies, no matter how strange or shocking, or that even seem to match the opposite way of how you live your life. There are plenty of power-hungry rich corporate CEOs who like being spanked and humiliated by a dominatrix, and feminists and PTA women who want their husbands to indulge them in a role-playing "rape fantasy". But for her to express such "demonic" fantasies to her man one night (purely Hollywood by the way; actual Satanic rituals don't include orgies), and preach to that same man the next day, seems really weird. Can a woman who was abused by her father, and talks to invisible winged creatures, be...perhaps, now just perhaps...a little deluded about things herself?

We were arguing as I packed my belongings. She sat on the couch, eyes closed, holding her cigarette. I looked over at her "Angel" cards by the doorway and picked one. The word on the card? JOURNEY. She insisted on looking up the definition from the book, and she chose one for herself ("WATER"). We were together on the couch that moment, but eventually the tension built again. I knew what I had to do.

"Well, I got the 'Journey' card, and that's where things are going." I looked up at her. I said her name, followed by "Goodbye."

She ducked her head out the door after me, in anger. "That's it?!?" "I have to go to work." "I know, but not even a..." "You can call me later," I said from the bottom of the stairs. I heard her slam the door.

I drove away. I've never cried so hard for anybody in my entire life. Not for any break-up, not for any funeral. I couldn't concentrate at work. I had to cry when I was in the bathroom stall and nobody was there.

Late in the afternoon I called Gloria. And I asked if we could hang out that night. She didn't ask if anything was wrong. She didn't have to. She could hear it in my voice. I know some people see this situation -- a guy calling up his ex after a nasty break-up -- and see it as "emotional cheating" or some underlying hope to get laid that night. But no, that wasn't what it was at all. I needed a best friend to talk to, and to listen to me.

I pulled up in front of her place around 7:45pm. She walked right out and got into the car. I knew I just had to stop and say something before we went to the restaurant, or else I'd just end up crying there. I tried my best to explain what happened in as few words as I could, while I still had my voice. And I just lost it in front of her. It was probably the only time she ever saw me cry, let alone hysterically. She held my hand and sat silently, letting me get it out. I cried and cried and cried.

After a few minutes I managed to pull myself together and head to the restaurant. And I told her everything. And as I spoke aloud, before she even gave her valuable input, I realized just how frightening and messed up it all sounded. Just how that new woman I loved was was far from being free of her own "issues".

Later we got coffee, then hopped again to a sushi bar, then finally hung out at her place for a while, where her handfasted husband was busying himself with projects and what not. Gloria had her own problems going on in her life too, which I was more than happy to be an ear for in return. She also showed me her latest artwork, I showed her the new CD from my favorite band that she also likes.

I can't thank Gloria enough for being a friend in my most desperate time of need. I know it's not going to be the last time I cry over this. Like I said, I pride myself in being a very stable person, not a sulker, and being very self-sufficient. But inevitably there come the sad days in life. And I can't imagine what else I'd be doing that night if it wasn't for my friend.

I can't deny feeling the deepest love for that woman who lived 3 hours away. A strong connection between us that goes beyond the mundane. We both know it, and we both know each other knows it too. But I still can't fall for the notions of there being one special "soul mate" that I have to grab before she's forever lost. Love really clouds your head with that stuff. I thought I learned from experience, but maybe not as well as I thought I'd had. Then again, maybe if I DIDN'T learn my lesson before, I wouldn't have stopped things so soon enough, and would instead still be dragging myself through the new relationship longer.

The night with Gloria was Monday, and since then I've manged to go out with friends every night. I'm not doing that to run away or to try to ignore anything. I just needed the reminder that I have other people and other things in my life. One of the biggest problems many men and women have is trying to define themselves by their relationships. You need to get your life's validation from more than one thing.

I haven't spoken to her since. But last night I wrote out a 2-page letter to her and sent it in the mail today. Just to say why I had to leave, despite how painful it's been. And that I'm not angry with her, not trying to play games, and I wish her the best, knowing that there's a spiritual man out there that she's going to hook up with and live her dreams with.

I have no doubt I'll find love again, when the time is right. Not to downplay the incredible experience I've had this season, but it wasn't the first, and it won't be the last.

"It doesn't matter where you meet Mr. or Miss Right. I will tell you what the secret is: what keeps two people together AFTER they meet?" - Next Stop Wonderland