Would my toyboy burn me in my bed?
I thought I’d hit the jackpot when I met my sexy toyboy – but I was very wrong... Lisa Chandler, 45, South Oxhey
Walking down the high street, I stared longingly at the gaggles of happy families.
Babies babbling in their buggies, couples smooching.
It was summer 2016 and I was feeling lonely.
My grown-up kids had long flown the nest and had families of their own.
Tears streamed down my face as I plodded along outside a Mcdonald’s.
More happy faces behind the window...
‘Are you OK?’ a man said behind me. ‘Go away,’ I snapped. Only instantly, I felt guilty. The stranger’s kind blue eyes shone. Skin uncreased, jaw unshaven.
I could tell he was young, good-looking, too.
‘Sorry,’ I trembled, wiping the dribble from my nose.
Chatting over a cheeseburger, I felt myself smile.
Laughing for the first time in ages.
Lee, 33, was so sweet.
When he asked me my age, though, I felt my cheeks burn.
‘Erm... 43,’ I said, nervously.
But he didn’t seem fazed by the 10-year age gap at all. Exchanging numbers, we met up at the weekend at my flat. Dancing in the living room to the radio, Lee spun me round like a ballerina. I felt younger, more energetic, than I’d felt in years! I soon knew I’d fallen for Lee. Friends joked that I’d got myself a toyboy. But I didn’t care what other people thought. Loved every minute I was with him. He spent a lot of time at mine. I wondered if he’d ever invite me over to his. Then he dropped a bombshell.
‘I’m homeless,’ he said, looking at me with his puppy-dog eyes.
He’d been sleeping on the streets but had hidden it well, always well-kept and wearing immaculate clothes.
‘You can stay here whenever you want,’ I told him.
After that, he never left my flat.
Lee was always by my side, with me everywhere I went.
As time went on, it got hard to tolerate.
Before, I’d been lonely. Now, I longed for a bit of ‘me time’.
If I said I was going out, Lee insisted on coming with me. Never let me see friends alone.
He accused me of cheating on him, picking arguments. I couldn’t put a foot right. His possessiveness soon turned nasty.
In January 2017, I was in bed wearing my favourite PJS.
Chatting to Lee, I noticed that he was fiddling with his lighter. ‘What are you doing?’ I asked.
‘Nothing,’ he smirked, as he flicked the switch and a flame emerged.
I cowered. Frightened of what he was going to do.
Lee held the light against the covers.
Screaming, I jumped out of bed as the flames rose up and up.
‘What have you done?’ I screeched.
The smell of burnt bedsheets filled the air. Lee just sat there, shrugged. I rushed to the kitchen, wetted a handful of tea towels and threw them on the bed.
The flames went out, leaving black scorch marks. Lee didn’t apologise. It was only a couple of days later that he said he didn’t mean it.
But now I was scared about what he’d do next.
After that, every day I’d walk on eggshells.
One evening later that year, he started getting angry again.
‘You’re seeing other men behind my back!’ he screamed.
Suddenly, he ran to the freezer, started to pull food out into a black bag. ‘Stop it!’ I shouted. ‘You don’t deserve all this food,’ he spat.
He shoved it all into the bag, hurling abuse at me. ‘You’re useless,’ he growled. But still, I let it go. Maybe I’d started to believe
Screaming, I jumped out of bed as the flames rose up
all the nasty things Lee told me. Believed I was worthless. That this was all I deserved.
One day in February 2018, I received a text message from a friend. ‘Who the hell is this?’ Lee said. ‘Just a mate,’ I sighed. Out of the blue, he grabbed my hair and yanked my head backwards.
He looked at me with disgust and spat in my face.
‘Don’t be such a cry baby,’ he said scornfully, when he saw tears in my eyes.
The emotional and physical abuse ground me down.
He slept by the door in a bid to stop me leaving. I was trapped – literally. But even then, I let Lee back into my life.
Apologising endlessly, he told me he’d change.
But within days, he was back to his old tricks.
On 21 February 2018, I’d arranged an appointment with a counsellor. Wanted to be happy again.
‘You’re not going anywhere without me,’ Lee screamed.
‘Yes, I am,’ I insisted.
Raising his fists in anger, he pummelled the living-room door with all his might, kicking out like a lunatic.
I watched as the door panels collapsed. Ducking under his arm and running out of the door, I finally felt free.
I’d had enough. Just couldn’t live my life like this any more.
Running to a nearby pharmacy, I hid under the counter as a staff member rang the police.
But later, I discovered that officers hadn’t had an easy ride.
Lee had managed to get hold of their pepper spray, covering the officers. Finally, though, he’d been arrested and charged.
He was remanded in custody until his court case.
In August 2018, Lee Blount, 35, appeared at St Albans Crown Court.
He pleaded guilty to coercive and controlling behaviour causing serious alarm and distress, three counts of assault against me and one of criminal damage.
He also admitted two counts of administering a noxious substance against the police officers who had arrested him.
He was jailed for a total of 18 months and issued with a fiveyear restraining order stopping him from contacting me.
I was shocked he wasn’t given a longer sentence. In fact, he’s already out now. Perhaps ready to trick the next poor unsuspecting woman into thinking he’s a decent bloke. So beware, ladies! Behind Lee’s youthful good looks is a dark soul.
I don’t even think he’s capable of love.
Beware, ladies! Behind his good looks is a dark soul