You’ve met Pinocchio. He’s the main character from the 1940 Disney animated film. He also has roots in an Italian story from the 1880s.

I’ve also been friends with him.

His name is Christopher.

I’ve known him more than three years. We share an activity together and similar career interests.

I discovered the subterfuge too late after I tried to help Christopher.

I heard he had separated from his wife and was living alone. Thus I sent him a text message asking if he was okay. A couple weeks later, I got another text asking if I wanted to get a drink at a local bar.

We met, chatted, and said good night.

Within days, he began texting, emailing, calling, flirting, and being very charming. He was a little awkward and geeky but I thought it delightfully unsophisticated. He kept asking me to come to his apartment to hang out.

I was flattered. My work and personal life was currently rough. I was vulnerable and excited I at least had a good looking, sensitive buddy to hang out with and watch movies.

He shared stories about his wife and what he claimed was a raw deal she had given him. He missed his dog. He talked about alcoholism and infidelity in his family. He was sad and lonely. He shared fears about the future and the sadness he felt that things couldn’t have been better with a woman he described as a rebound after separating.

I was impressed he was watching the pet bird for a graduate student at the university.

I gave him time and attention, I paid for dinners and events, I stroked his ego, I mailed him little gifts to cheer him up, I talked to powerful people with money about procuring funds for his pet projects. I told my priest that Christopher was a man in pain. They were sympathetic and welcoming.

Soon my weak emotional boundaries with Christopher were taking a toll. I was reliving my own separation and divorce. I was having flashbacks.

I also realized he never asked me how I was doing. He never asked me questions about my life, friends, family, or activities. Every conversation was about him, the famous people he had interviewed as part of his job, traveling with his family, and of course the sad saga of his separation.

I pulled back although did check on him every once in a while to make sure he hadn’t self-destructed.

Then I began to hear from work colleagues and from colleagues in our shared activity.

I began hearing the woman Christopher told me was an ex-girlfriend was not an ex. The girlfriend was telling people she was still his girlfriend. The wife he said ran out on him did not. He had run out on her with this now girlfriend.

People thought he was cheating on his wife with me or the girlfriend. Some thought he was cheating on the girlfriend with me.

The bird? Belonged to the girlfriend who was actually traveling overseas.

I found myself having to defend him to people and I was confused.

I confronted Christopher and he gave me about how the girlfriend had been out of the country. Now she was unexpectedly back.

I contacted the girlfriend to make sure that if she heard about me, she knew the truth about my contact with Christopher. She accused me of dating him. I cringed.

I spent an afternoon with his estranged wife. I felt guilty I had not checked on her like I had Christopher.

She told me the true sordid tale.

Christopher was involved with the girlfriend for months before he and his wife separated. They shared secret e-mails and “I Love Yous.” There were confrontations, lies, and deceit.

EVERYTHING Christopher told me was a lie.

I was angry and sad. I sent him dozens of snarky text messages. Either Christopher or the girlfriend found out where I lived and left at my door the bottle of wine I had given him.

That’s when I started looking up the definition to “codependency” and realized it applied to me.