Just my luck on St. Patrick's Day

Up until the past two years or so, I've worked almost every holiday. So when I had St. Patrick's Day off three years ago - from all of my jobs - it was pretty unexpected.

For those that don't know, in Massachusetts, St. Patrick's Day is kind of a big deal. Whether you're Irish or not, which I am, many parts of the state are festooned with festivities and shenanigans galore. And for the first time in several years, I was able to celebrate.

Because we reconciled from a previous fight - I said I was sorry for accusing him over something he was clearly guilty of and he didn't yell at me or come after me - and said he was clean, I thought he might be able to handle a little bit of day-drinking. Well. I didn't know what I know now. Clearly, that was a mistake.

Before the annual parade stepped off in Worcester, we headed over to my friend Matt's. This was exciting for me because he didn't know a lot of my friends and in my head, I pictured him acting like the guy he promised me on a daily basis that he'd be. Not the one I was petrified of.

When we arrived at Matt's, Dropkick Murphys was blaring in the background. Shamrocks adorning each corner of the kitchen. My friend Kasey, who I've been friends with since junior high, had already arrived. I can't remember what time it was exactly, but it was still morning and it was apparent that people had already started downing drinks.

As Matt began to line up the Irish car bombs across the table, a dash of panic pinged in my gut.

Could he handle Jameson (whiskey)?

To my surprise, he declined, but encouraged me to imbibe. I looked over at Kasey, who had also just met him for the first time, and shrugged.

Maybe this will actually be a good day, I thought, attempting to drink the car bomb before it curdled.

As the Dropkicks played on, I chatted with Matt and Kasey and a few others, sipping a beer. Meanwhile, I never saw him consume more than two beers over the course of a few hours. At one point, he disappeared to find the bathroom, but other than that, it was a normal pre-game party before the parade. As time ticked closer, the lot of us started to add more green to our looks and pack up our drinks.

He was actually happy and laughing with me as we got up and moved closer to the door. I was finally getting to show off the guy that I had been seeing.

SEE! He does love you. Look at him kiss you on your cheek! And ...

Just as I was about to let out a giggle, my life changed forever. It's hard not to feel that way, but my perspective on so many things changed after this moment.

He. Choked. Me.

I was laughing. I didn't do anything wrong or make him angry. He looked at me, while he was laughing and started choking me.

I'm not going to say that he hadn't hurt me before, because that would be a lie. But this was easily the most unexpected and (at the time) one of the most violent episodes.

I was mortified. Embarrassed. Devastated.

I pulled away, gasping and trying to form words, asking him why he did it.

The man that had been laughing with me, he told me I pissed him off.

I went over to Kasey and grabbed her by the hand and took off, consuming a drink as fast as possible. I whispered to her what had happened and we took off to another group of friends we knew would be out waiting for the parade. A group where I felt like I could be safe.

Granted, I probably shouldn't have continued to drink, but I had so many thoughts in my head that I needed to not feel. I was worried about taking off, but also scared of him. It was this weird limbo of feelings that was amplified when I went over to my other group of friends.

In fact, I blurted out the fact that my boyfriend had just choked me to a more-distant friend at the time ... clearly not my finest hour. Somewhere along the line, I checked my phone to see if he had responded, but my phone was dead.

The parade itself was a blur, but I do know that Kasey drove me back to my apartment where I proceeded to take a nap while my phone charged. When I woke up an hour later and turned on my phone, I did have a message from him. Somehow, he ended up at the Worcester County Jail.

Instead of focusing on what he did or how I felt, I felt like I abandoned him. He sent texts from random phones talking about how he had "lost" me.

Did he honestly not know I took off?

He also left a long voicemail from the phone in jail. In the texts, he described his location - it was no where near Matt's house or the parade. Some were desperate and some were angry - even intense. It's weird looking back at it now because I could have - and should have - left him there. But I didn't. I was afraid of what would happen once he did get out. I was afraid of what he might do if I wasn't the one to bring him back to our place. If he did what he did to me when he was happy, how much worse could it get?

I ended up sitting at the jail all night, waiting for him. They had a rule about when people could be released, and of course, I had to post bail.

When he was finally released, he gave me a story that is so outlandish that it can't possibly be true. Although I bailed him out, literally, I was just going through the emotions. For the first time, I didn't immediately forgive him. I'd taken a lot of abuse at this point and part of me knew it was going to get worse, but that St. Patrick's Day changed my life. Forever.

Once someone you think loves you wraps their hands around your neck to harm you, you can't ever go back to what life was before.