Last night my daughter made a chocolate cake, while it was baking it smelled so good I could hardly wait. I then recalled this twisted, but true, story.

Several years ago I was dumb enough to think I was in love with a guy who happened to be an alcoholic and drug abuser. Looking back I have no idea why I stayed with him as long as I did, other than because I felt society judged single women much harsher and didn’t want to continue being the loser I had been all my life, but that is another story. This story is about pie.

Fred, and I have no reason to change his name to protect the innocent, was a drinker. He drank almost from the time he got up to the time he passed out. For somebody like myself, who had led a sheltered life, watching his existence was oddly fascinating. He was not a mean drunk, not in the beginning anyhow, he was very charismatic and rather witty and charming. He was a part of the world I had never seen.

I guess I should clarify, I wasn’t so much sheltered, as I had been shy. My parents were part of the academic world, and Fred was a part of the underground culture. His world was one I had not only never seen, but was completely unaware of. I had been bullied and made fun of most of my life as I was a bit of an oddball, I was looking for a place of acceptance. His world didn’t care if you were a freak or not. The fact that I had some money from an inheritance didn’t hurt either.

Well one day I felt like making a cherry pie. Fred was out at the bar, and I thought it would be a nice surprise.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/fooey/270493712/in/photostream/

The pie had not been in the oven more than a few minutes when Fred came home. He was hungry. In no time he opened the oven door and pulled out the not-even-half-baked pie and was going to start to eat it.

It was not the first time Fred had insulted me but it was probably the first time I reacted harshly. I took the entire pie, one that I too wanted to eat, and poured the whole thing down into the toilet and flushed it away. I do not remember what happened next, I probably got yelled and questioned for doing such a stupid thing. I probably yelled back, I probably cried.

It was some time later I finally got wise and left him. I have other similar stories, including one where Fred woke up and mistook the closet for a bathroom…

Suffice it to say, I experienced the very worst examples people made of their lives and am probably richer for it, although it cost me my inheritance.