MEMOIR
I Sold Everything and Moved Overseas to Save My Relationship
My Dutch boyfriend and I got engaged after a few months
When I met Vigo, it was like something I’d only seen in the movies. These kinds of coincidences didn’t happen to me. My relationships had always followed the formula of me seeing an attractive man, going after that man and entering into a relationship, having a one-night stand, or getting rejected. No chance encounters blossomed into passionate relationships until my trip to Holland.
My Dutch grandma decided to visit her family in the spring of 1999. Grandpa already planned a golfing trip, so I volunteered to travel with Grandma. It had been 13 years since my last visit to Holland, so I was overdue. I planned to stay with my Grandma’s nephew Hans while she stayed at her brother’s house.
Hans and I were close. We met in 1984 when I first traveled to Holland with my grandparents. We maintained contact by writing letters and I visited him a couple more times in the ’80s when I traveled abroad with my grandparents.
During my stay with Hans, his friend Vigo stopped by for a visit. Vigo had short dark hair with curls in the front. His big blue eyes were a highlight, as well as his smile and confident nature. He wore tight jeans and a tight black T-shirt with black combat boots that made him look edgy, a plus in my book. I thought he was attractive.
The guys made custom stereo speakers and they needed to take some to a client. I rode along and they talked in Dutch. I only understood some words and phrases. After grabbing a bite to eat, we went back to Hans’ place.
As the evening came to a close, Vigo asked if he could speak to me in private. It caught me off guard, but I agreed. He began pouring his heart and soul out to me like we were best friends. I felt an instant connection, both mentally and physically. He smelled so good and I loved his Dutch accent. He said he was in a relationship, but he wasn’t happy and he wanted to end it. He told me that he felt drawn to me. I didn’t know what to say.
As I told him goodnight at the door, he kissed me. It surprised me, but I walked to my room with a smile on my face.
We spent the rest of the week hanging out and Vigo broke up with his girlfriend. On my last night in Holland, Vigo invited me to his apartment. He made me dinner and before long we were in bed together. It was the first time I’d been with an uncircumcised man and it felt fantastic. In the morning, he drove me back to Hans’ place on his motorcycle. Before I went inside, he handed me a letter and I kissed him goodbye.
I read the letter on the plane and Vigo professed his love for me. He wanted us to be together.
Just my luck. At age 30, I finally met a man after being single and lonely for two years, but an ocean kept us apart. We tried to keep in touch, but the seven-hour time difference made it challenging. We had a small window to talk on the phone. I’d stay up late and sacrifice sleep on work nights to hear his voice, and my phone bill skyrocketed (this was before cell phones and international plans). We once talked for seven hours!
We decided the only way we could be together was to get married. One of us would have to leave our country. We made a plan for Vigo to visit me that summer.
A visit to the United States
My stepmom Dora and I picked Vigo up from the airport. The excitement I felt waiting for him to arrive was intense. On the way home, we hugged and held hands in the backseat.
Vigo stayed at my house for the week. I showed him around the area. We went to the park to take pictures of flowers, visited the Asian market, and went to the top of an observation tower to look at the spectacular view of the city below. It was all very romantic, like a storybook. Back at home in the bedroom, it was way more romantic, but not the kind of storybook for kids!
Vigo could not believe how hot and humid the weather was in the Midwest. He lived in a country with a mild climate. We decided that I’d move to Holland, but our wedding would be in the States. I called my stepmom Dora to relay the news. “Remember how you always told me when I’d know when I found the one? Well, I have. Vigo and I are going to get married!”
I thought for sure she’d say I was nuts, but she congratulated me. I don’t recall my family trying to talk me out of it, but I’m sure some comments were made to that effect. My family didn’t want me to move overseas, especially my mom, but the promise of love prevailed. He needed me and I needed him.
Dora sprang into action. Since my Dad would be paying for the wedding, which would take place in their backyard in the country, Dora felt it was her duty to oversee the plans. We purchased my dress and two navy satin dresses for my bridesmaids. We bought the cake topper and had the invitations printed. Vigo and I bought our rings before he flew back home.
The wedding was set for October. Vigo and I continued to talk on the phone about our future. I was so excited. Not only would I be getting married, but I’d also be moving overseas to start a new life! I told all of my friends and coworkers about my engagement and showed them my ring. Everyone congratulated me. I was walking on clouds until Vigo didn’t call one day.
My bubble is burst
Why didn’t Vigo call? He called every day at the same time. I tried to call him, but there was no answer. Then, Hans called to say that Vigo had cold feet. A flood of adrenaline rushed over me. I felt panicky and sick. My heart dropped in my chest.
Vigo called that night to say he couldn’t go through with it. He said he was sorry. I hung up and cried. A deep depression set in and I barely slept. The next day at work I couldn’t focus so I went home early. I felt lost, rejected, and sad, but mostly I felt embarrassed and humiliated. How was I going to tell my family? What would my coworkers think? Was I always going to be alone?
This was a low point in my life. My depression turned to anger. I had no control of the situation and it made me crazy. I trashed my bedroom. I knocked over my bookcase and used my arm to sweep everything off the top of my dresser. I wanted to break stuff. I screamed and then crawled into bed. I’ve never handled rejection well and I had thoughts of suicide, so I knew I needed to see a doctor.
My doctor put me on medication for depression and wrote me a note to be off work for two weeks. I was grieving a loss and could think of nothing else. On the fifth day, I was still in bed. My boss called and said, “I have to let you go.” I said, “Okay,” and hung up. I didn’t care.
That’s when I got an idea.
The next morning I called Hans to ask if I could move in with him. I told him I needed to get away from my life in the States. He agreed. I focused on making plans. I sold my house, my car, and most of my belongings. The rest I stored at my Mom’s house. I cashed out my 401K and took the money I made off the sale of my home and flew to Europe with my two cats.
A new life in Holland
It was true that I needed to get away from my old life. Prior to meeting Vigo, I had been deeply depressed and living a destructive lifestyle of drinking and one-night stands. I was so lonely and miserable, I drowned my pain with alcohol.
Every Friday and Saturday night, I’d go downtown with friends and drink vodka cocktails until I blacked out or vomited. Another weekend and another man in my bed. It was exciting until the next morning when I woke up alone again. Each time, I felt more empty than I had before, but I couldn’t stop the pattern; it was my crack.
One night I rolled into the fetal position on my living room floor and screamed, “It hurts!” The pain was mental, not physical. I couldn’t escape it. The only respite seemed to come from drinking.
Of course, I had an ulterior motive for moving to Holland. I wanted to see how it would play out with Vigo.
My family came to my house to say goodbye. They hugged me and cried. Mom drove me to the airport and Hans picked me up in Belgium. My belongings — clothes, CDs, and makeup — fit in two suitcases. I also had two cat carriers for my fur babies. It cost $400 to fly them across the ocean, but it was worth it to me. Some days they were the only things in my life that brought me happiness.
The first two days in Holland, I cried. I barely ate or got out of bed. On the third day, I awoke to see Vigo sitting on my bed. He put his hand on my leg and the warmth sent shivers through my body. We made love right then and there. My plan seemed to be working. My relationship with Vigo wasn’t over after all.
Over the next few weeks, I busied myself with adjusting to my new life. I went to school to learn the language and I got a job cleaning an office. Vigo kept coming around.
One day Hans, Vigo, and I went on a long motorcycle ride across the beautiful countryside. I hopped on the back of Vigo’s bike, and as we rode along the road with windmills dotting the landscape, Vigo put his hand on my leg. It was one of the most sensuous touches I had ever felt in my life.
We stopped at a pub for a drink and I played pinball. Suddenly, I felt Vigo’s warm body pressing against the back of mine. He wrapped his arms around me and pushed the buttons on the pinball machine. I nearly fainted with desire.
Eventually, I moved in with Vigo. I bought a bed, dresser, microwave, VCR, and dining room table from Ikea for his apartment. We had a little zoo with his two cats and dog and my two cats, all living as one happy family.
In the beginning, it was lovely. Vigo made me soup from the leek he grew in his garden. He baked strudel and we got Chinese takeout. I tried egg foo young for the first time. We took the dog for walks in the park and went on motorcycle rides. We took the train to the North Sea to fly kites and Vigo gave me 31 yellow roses for my birthday in June.
For Christmas, we visited his parents and they gave us good Dutch chocolate and 100 guilders. They couldn’t speak English, so I just smiled at them.
Vigo and I rang in the Millennium together. We walked through the neighborhood holding hands and kissed at midnight while fireworks lit up the night sky.
Vigo worked second-shift so I spent a lot of time alone. When we were together, I began noticing things I didn’t like. Vigo liked to talk about people in a negative way, even strangers. He also talked about Hans behind his back and they were supposed to be friends. He seemed pompous and spoiled (he was an only child).
Then, he said he didn’t like it when I wore make-up. I knew that was a warning sign, a characteristic of control. We began to but heads.
After a few months, I decided to fly home for a visit. When I returned, I noticed Vigo’s ex-girlfriend’s phone number listed on our phone bill. He had been calling her behind my back. When I confronted him about it, he said they were just friends and it didn’t mean anything. It still did not sit well with me.
One night as we watched a movie, out of nowhere Vigo pinched my breast. I said, “Ow, that hurt! Stop that!” Vigo kept doing it. He seemed to take delight in annoying and hurting me. He continued to pinch my breasts over the next week. I kept telling him to stop, but he wouldn’t listen. Was this a pattern of abuse that was going to escalate? It seemed highly possible.
I told my mom about it and she talked to Vigo on the phone. She told him that I had been sexually abused as a child and that by him pinching me in that way, he was crossing a boundary. It brought back feelings of being violated again. The last straw happened in the kitchen. I was cooking some food and he pinched my breast hard. I kicked him as hard as I could in the shin, and he yelled, “You bitch!”
That did it. Our relationship was over. After nine months, I packed my bags and moved back to the States.
I don’t regret the decision I made to move overseas. I didn’t want to spend my life thinking, “What if?” While it didn’t work out with Vigo, living abroad was the most amazing experience of my life.