Laura joined a gym. Kitted herself out in Lycra, scooped her shiny jet hair into a swishy pony tail and exercised. She was fit, healthy and beautiful.
Laura would be affronted by a third factor in the predilection of alcoholism.
Mr Big I Am spotted Laura in the gym, asked her out on a date. Laura told her sister of the invite. Sister already a gym member, knew of the Big I Am. ‘No,’ Sister informed, ‘Don’t accept.’
Mr Big I Am approached Laura’s sister, said he’d be the one to treat Laura right. ‘Prove it,’ Sister offered, ‘Take it slow, take her somewhere nice.’
Mr Big I Am took Laura to the seaside. They held hands, shared ice-cream, came home before dark, came home before the postcards they sent to each other.
Mr Big I Am carried on doing special things, carried on treating Laura right.
Said he too had suffered heartache, understood Laura’s vulnerable side. Said his parents were dead: killed in a car accident when he was a child.
We did not know he fabricated lies. Painted pictures for sympathy. Drew illusions to lure women who assumed they could help him.
I need you. You need me.
The first stage of entrapment.