The Girl Who Was Sick in the Head


I met Missy at my place of business in 2006. She was 19, Italian, had a spunky personality and her honest and genuine smile was something that I was immediately attracted to. She had the checklist features of my traditional female which included light eyes, dark hair, and she liked to laugh at my jokes. I have to say I wasn’t in the right state of mind at this point in my life. I was a little sick in the head and as I would eventually find out, so was Missy.

I had been casually dating this one girl I met through my co-workers, and I had been trying really hard to get off of that California snow that was making me crazy when Missy entered my life. Before I knew it, I stopped seeing the other girl and I started spending more time with Missy. Then she dropped this bomb on me.

“I’m sick.” She said. “I have cancer.”

This totally blew me away. I was like, what do you mean you have cancer? Cancer of what?

“Brain cancer.” She replied.

Now look, I didn’t know a single thing about what that meant other than I had to highly doubt it’s even possible to have brain cancer and be walking around like nothing is wrong. In my alternative state of mind I kind of felt bad for her, but at the same time the part of my brain that was actually grounded and still rational questioned her as to whether or not she was telling the truth. She didn’t like that, and immediately pulled away from me.

A couple days later her and I met up again at my apartment and we had a long talk. She went on to tell me about how she had been sick as a kid and how she had just gotten back from an Oncology lab in Texas where she was getting tests done and other cancer-related things. She was going to be going away soon for treatment, and she was really convincing. I guess I kind of believed her at that point. We spent the next week hanging out and making the most of the time we had left.

Things between us were good, and I even talked about marrying this girl, albeit might have been a desperate attempt to prove my love, but I didn’t care. I told my friends who would listen about her story and they all felt really bad and supported the two of us, except for a few people at work.

“She doesn’t have fucking Cancer Christian. I had cancer, and I know that girl is lying.” My co-worker Lainey said to me.

Lainey was making a lot of sense, but I was in a state of mind where I couldn’t tell whether to believe the awful truth that perhaps Missy was making this up, or continue to play into the idea that her cancer was real because why on earth would someone go to such lengths to get my attention as to make up a fake story about having one of the worst diseases in the history of the world?

I started to do some research. In between my days of being with Missy, my nights of not sleeping and my afternoons of not wanting to get out of bed, I secretly started googling stuff about cancer and a lot of what Missy was saying added up. There really was an Oncology lab in Texas and the doctor she told me she was going to see really did exist. In fact, he was one of the top cancer research doctors in the country at the time…he even had done some successful brain surgeries in China to alleviate the disease.

I went back to my friend Lainey, and I told her about my findings. She wasn’t impressed, and she continued to inadvertently have my back by trying to tell me I wasn’t thinking straight. Perhaps I should have listened to her.

“I don’t like that girl.” Lainey said. “I just don’t trust her.”

That was fine for her, but I really cared about Missy because over the last week or two she seemed like the only one who understood me. At one point she saw me at my worst, up for two days and crying, and she still said she loved me and it was going to be ok. When I had an bad experience and it felt like my whole brain was going to explode, she borrowed someone’s car and drove right over to my place to see if I was alright.

Plus, my cat liked her and that in itself was saying a lot because it takes a awhile for my cat to warm up to anyone. I knew if I were to even doubt what Missy was telling me again I would lose her forever. I was one of the only ones who believed her, because I wanted to believe her. I was in a real shitty place mentally back then, and in some sick and twisted way, Missy having cancer was the only thing keeping me alive.

It was September of 2006 and I was watching Maria Sharapova in the U.S. Open when Missy told me she had to go away for awhile. I wouldn’t be able to contact her because she had to go overseas to China to get treatment for her cancer which made sense to me after what I read online. I spent the last few days with her hanging out in Hollywood and in Malibu at the Paradise Cove Cafe, eating fried calamari from a giant martini glass, and listening to the song Invincible by Muse on the ride back from the beach.

I had quit my job, and I got a new one tending bar at the Wiltern in Koreatown. I made Missy a mix cd and booklet with all these pictures of us so she would remember our time together. One of the outcomes of her 50/50 procedure was the possibly of memory loss and the one thing I wanted her to remember was how much I loved her and how all I wanted was for her to get better, even if she didn’t remember me.

She left me on a Friday in September, and even though it was tough, I went on with my new life, praying every night that she would be ok. I took a little trip by myself to Arizona to clear my head before I started my new job, and I got myself clean, at least for a few weeks.

When I returned, I received a MySpace message from one of Missy’s friends stating that Missy was ok and she was rehabilitating on the east coast. I tried sending a message to this mysterious person asking for more details and hoping that I would be able to get to talk to her, but I never received a message back. I would spend the next few weeks writing blogs I posted on MySpace about how much I missed her and about how I couldn’t wait to see her again This is an excerpt from one of those posts:


(originally posted*starduster)
I looked at myself in the mirror this morning and I was thinking about Missy. We used to say to each other…”I heart you” I liked that. I like that we made everything our own…and I love that we did it deliberately because we really meant it even though we knew we didn’t have much time together. It kind of all makes sense now…. Even if I never see her again….or even if she never finds me or if she decides that it would probably be better if we were just friends or if I’m off in Romania when she comes knocking on my door…I still can be happy to say that she loved me unconditionally and she couldn’t have come along at a more perfect time in my life. I loved her first and I always will. I’ve never doubted it either….it kind of freaked me at first but sometimes you need that to really know how you feel. Love is always on my mind and that’s what I’m putting my faith in these days. Sometimes I forget how simple life is because there are so many damn illusions that feel like the real thing. I’ve always been good at giving myself a reason to go on and I’ve always known exactly what to tell myself to make it all ok for now. I heart you too…..and I always will.

I continued writing for a few more weeks, as I poured my heart and soul out to anyone who clicked on my MySpace blog. Then a friend from my old work told me something I didn’t want to hear, but I think at that point, I NEEDED to hear this.

I saw Missy on Hollywood boulevard today. I called her name and she turned around, and then ignored me and kept on walking. She’s not in China, and she’s not rehabilitating on the east coast. Christian, you have to believe me.” he said

What the fuck?!? I knew something was rotten in Denmark because my friend Joel had no reason to lie to me. That’s when all the doubt I had been ignoring the past few months started to take center stage. It wasn’t soon afterwards that I got a knock on my door at 3pm on a Tuesday.

For some odd reason, I didn’t answer it, I looked through the peephole and I saw someone out there, but then I put my ear to the door and I listened. Just then I heard a familiar ring tone go off. Missy’s ring tone. I couldn’t confirm that it was her, but it felt like she was standing right outside my door, which I never opened.

My mind started to piece it together. If I was about to be found out for telling a humungous lie, the first thing I would do would be to show my face again to the person I lied to before someone else told me about it, right?

I went through my MySpace account and looked at the profile of the girl who had been sending me information about Missy. She had no profile picture, and she didn’t have many friends in common. Back then, anyone could send anyone else a message because privacy settings didn’t exist. I started looking at all these phone calls I had been receiving from a “restricted” number who would hang up every time I answered, and then I came to a conclusion that I should have known from the beginning.

What if the whole time that person who had been sending me messages was Missy herself? What if the restricted phone calls were Missy was dialing *67 before placing the call? Was I being cat-fished?  Was I getting duped by a girl who was born in the 80s? What was the point to all of this anyway, and how could I have been so stupid not to see this coming from…..oh right…I was a drug addict back then. (figuratively)

Something occurred to me after that day. If Missy was sending me messages on MySpace pretending to be someone else, then she was able to read my blogs about her as well because you didn’t have to be friends with someone on MS to see their page.

I had to find out if this was true, and the only way I knew how was to put it out into the world, and see what came back. I posted a blog called “and now I know the truth” and basically stated the whole cancer story thing was a ruse, and I ended it with the sentence, “You deserve everything you get in life, and I hope you get nothing but regret. Goodbye Missy.

The next day I was sitting in the car with my friend Dana outside of a pot store when I got a text from Missy.

“Why are you writing negative things about me on MySpace?”

“Who is this?”

“This is Missy. Who are you?”

Who am I? Wow, this girl had some balls to keep lying to me even after the fact, so I called her out. I was like….Let me get this straight….You don’t remember my name now, probably because of the brain cancer surgery you didn’t have, you have no idea who I am or how this number got into your phone, but somehow you managed to connect the dots to the fact that I posted something on MySpace about you, and then assumed this random number in your phone must be that very same person? There’s about a million holes in that story, the story she told me before, and every other lie she had told me up until this point.

I didn’t even want an explanation, I just wanted her to go away. Do you have any idea how embarrassed and duped I felt for days afterwards? I felt like someone ripped out my heart, put it through a blender, turned up the settings to high, and then WATCHED me from afar as I tried to piece every thing back together.  It was fucking creepy, and it didn’t stop there.

Missy kept trying to contact me over the next year and I ignored her. Eventually, I talked to her on the phone some time in 2008 and she came clean about everything. She didn’t have brain cancer, (obviously) but she told me she had some “form of cancer” which I think in itself was still a lie, but at this point who really cared?  She told me she had a boyfriend/fiancee the whole time she was living in L.A. while sleeping with me, and that she made up this story of brain cancer and having to go away because she just couldn’t bear to tell me the truth.

Now, I don’t know what causes this kind of thought process, but it seems to me it would have been a lot easier to just tell me you had a boyfriend in the Marines who asked you to marry him, instead of cheating on him with me, lying to HIM about it, then lying to ME and everyone else we worked with by fabricating some ridiculous story about brain cancer and China and having to go away for months. In fact, you probably could have just told me the truth and lied to your boyfriend and no one would be any the wiser.

The last time I saw Missy was in 2009. We met at the Roost in Los Feliz, and she looked different to me, but maybe that’s because I was seeing things for how they really were, or maybe I was still angry and upset with her for what she did to me. I’m not anymore. She has apologized many, many times and I have forgiven her for what she did. I’m not saying it was ok, but if you hold on to anger and resentment in life, you end up making yourself sick in the head.

I know why I had to go through all of that. I was in a really bad place when I met her, and my short lived love for her and the belief that I’d be able to see her again someday was the only thing that got me through that time in my life. I wouldn’t want to go through it again, but I understand the life lesson.

Missy recently got divorced. This past summer she contacted me and every now and then we would talk or text. A few months ago I got a text from her saying she would be in L.A. for the night and she wanted to see me.

“I’ll call you after my meeting” she said

I never heard from her again. Maybe the meeting got moved to Albuquerque, or maybe the plane got hijacked or maybe she never landed in Los Angeles at all. I don’t know, but I don’t need an explanation any more about any of it. I’m done with that chapter of my life.

However if I know Missy, I’m sure there is some crazy story to go with it.

You send your lover off to China, and you wait for her to call.

You put your girl up on a pedestal, and you wait for her to fall. -CC

24 thoughts on “The Girl Who Was Sick in the Head

  1. Wow! What do you say after reading this!? I can tell you she never had any form of cancer. Anyone who has survived cancer would never lie about having another form of it.
    One of my favorite things is you made her a mix CD : ) You’ve experienced so much!! I wonder if Missy is reading now 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. moonskittles

    I am left once again bewildered .. should I smile of all the funny jokes you made through your writing, stand in ovation of your classy Hamlet line, weep and cuss with you at the audacity of that girl, or simply look you in the eye and say: you are one good soul!!

    Liked by 1 person

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