I've come to think of my ex much like the Wizard of Oz. Remember the frontman? The strong and powerful looming grumpy hologram who claimed to grant wishes?
Much like Oz, who, from what I can recall doled out, among other things, a blackmarketed diploma for a scarecrow and an empty promise for Dorothy, the ex was FULL of unfulfilled promises and bizzare substitutes for caring and commitment. He'd always described himself as generous; and everyone from his doorman to his friend's wife would attest to what a prince he was. But everything he gave was EASY for him to give, in other words he displayed a kind of "generosity of convenience."

He SAID he wanted to take me somewhere exotic and adventurous. We ended up going on two island vacations together, dutch, that I planned and he tried to worm out of.

He told some friends of mine 'not to worry about the bill' for dinner, and when they didn't, he complained they didn't make a counter offer to pay.

He went window shopping for Christmas presents for my whole family, and then got nothing- including for me. (Me to him: huge lavish stocking.)

My favorite: bought me very nice Tiffany earrings and one of a kind jewelry- when he broke up w/me out of the blue, sent me all my stuff from his apt. except for the jewelry, which I never saw again.

Chinese Food. Remember in my Big, Fat Greek Wedding where the father thought every ailment could be cured with Windex? The answer to restablishing balance in any crisis was ordering take out chinese food. I am ashamed to say that that I perpetuated this feeble attempt by jumping up and down and licking my chops . When he refused to let me meet his ex wife, there was kung pao chicken. When he renegged on holidays and I was left alone in the city, there was fried rice to the rescue. When he changed his mind about moving in together and decided not to give me a key to his new apartment, I got to order my OWN egg roll.

I mean, I do really like Chinese food. How could I confuse the Chinese food cure with emotional depth, fortitude, and steadfastness? Just gullible, I guess.

I was so eager to believe in the wizard, all knowing, powerful and benevolent. But remember when Toto pulled the curtain back? The wizard was no wizard a whiz he was. He was just a little con man. I think what happened is I started to pull the curtain back, and he bolted. Sadly, I know I would have settled for the small, deceitful, version of him as well.