The Super-Exceeding Relationship

My last installment generated predictable complaints from Demarest groupies that went along the lines of – “This is just sour grapes from a bunch of jilted women” and “What’s this got to do with the paranormal? We don’t care about his personal life.”

First of all, female groupies, if you only knew how often Demarest used to mock you women (your looks, your intelligence – as in- the lack thereof, your desperation for his attention) in private, you wouldn’t be so fast to defend him, so stop trying to win brownie points with him. You’re mostly a laughing stock behind the witty crumbs he doles out on his FB page.

Secondly, if you think it’s okay for a man to simultaneously try to impregnate multiple women and promise them a future together that he has no intention of keeping, while actively keeping them hidden from each other, and using compromising photos of them as leverage to keep them silent when they break up, then I’m sorry, you’re just as morally bankrupt as he is.

Thirdly, as one of my FB friends said in response to these idiotic comments – it has EVERYTHING to do with the paranormal – he ACTIVELY seeks out his victims based on their interest in this genre, where he’s seen as the big shot, the celebrity, the respected authority. It’s as clear an abuse of power as it gets.

Onto this, which is just the lead-up to my next post on The Women in Their Own Words – Woman #8.

By the way, the title is based on a quote from Demarest which is what has coloured my view of our relationship over the last four years, even when I didn’t hear from him for long stretches.

He now claims to his followers that we were always just friends or that we broke up back in 2012 but judge the transcripts below for yourself. I really thought we had something special that transcended time and distance, based on his own words.

These two posts will be brutal and if you’re easily offended you need to stop reading now – I don’t need whiners nitpicking about me bringing my baby, Noah, into this.

I knew about Woman #8 BEFORE the story broke, because Demarest told me about her years ago. I’ve mentioned this elsewhere, but Demarest and I broke up for awhile in 2012.

This was how it unfolded –

April 2012 – Demarest called me from Cannes where he was attending a TV production meeting I had lined up for him. In that Skype call, he told me he was completely in love with me, proposed marriage, and said he wanted to adopt my then-unborn, disabled baby and raise him as his own.

Based on his conversation with the head of the production company in Cannes, he “knew” I was on the verge of getting my own cooking show, and he wanted every man who watched me on television to know that I was Robb Demarest’s wife. (See what I mean about things ramping up when he sees potential rivalry?)

I’ve always taken pride in my stoicism. Every pre-natal visit at the hospital had brought worse news about my baby’s prospects. I was pressured to terminate, and I was asked multiple times how my husband felt about the prognosis, at which point I would have to tell the doctors yet again that my marriage had broken up even before I found out I was pregnant.

I wrote Demarest a long email and told him that I was due for another prenatal visit soon and for the first time when the doctors asked about the baby’s “father” I’d be able to hold my head high and tell them everything was good and the baby would be loved. I picked the name “Noah” in part because I thought it went well with “Demarest”.

In reply, now back in the “harsh reality of Saudi Arabia” where he’s based, he retracted his proposal. He didn’t want to break up with me, but he thought we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves.

I started to hear less and less from him. He would claim he was tired and not in the mood to chat. He got angry when I prodded him.

The following photo was from a shoot at the end of April. The photographer happened to be from New York, and trying to remain optimistic about our relationship, I remember telling him my boyfriend, too, was originally from New York.

Noah would be born exactly 3 weeks after this photo was taken. I didn’t know it at the time but Noah would spend the next 7 months in hospital, most of that in the ICU.

He would come close to death at least 3 times.

This photo ended up being blown up and hung up in my restaurant dining room. It was my stand-in for the many months I would be largely gone from my business. In my absence my restaurant started to get some negative feedback. I ended up closing it shortly after Noah came home.


In the immediate days leading up to Noah’s birth, I heard less and less from Demarest. I knew he was preparing for a trip to Florida so I cut him some slack but after repeated spells of silence from him, I’d had enough.

This was the breakup; I sent it while I was in the hospital where I had been called in as a matter of urgency. It happened on, I believe, 13 May 2012 (everything was in panic mode during those last days so I can’t remember if I spent one or two days of monitoring in hospital).

[8:52:52 AM] Jackie M: You can’t even msg to check in on me a day and a half after I specifically asked you to?
[8:58:24 AM] Jackie M: For the record I got a call from my obstetrician overnight to come into the hospital this morning because she’s very concerned about the latest ultrasound report and that’s had me up all night with worry.
[8:59:59 AM] Jackie M: I’ve no idea if you’ve even left for Florida but have a good trip; I’m done with you, you selfish f*ck.

Noah would be born via emergency caesarean the next day. He registered an initial Apgar score of 3, which meant he needed immediate lifesaving measures. I didn’t get to see his face before he was wheeled into the ICU where he would spend the next few months of his life.


And I wouldn’t get to see his face for weeks after his birth because of the tubes and tapes on him. I couldn’t find anyone to drive me, so, against doctors’ orders (because of the caesarean) I would drive myself to the hospital every day to be with him in the ICU.

For 217 days until one week before Christmas 2012, books and a laptop kept me company by Noah’s crib.

I knew before he was born that Noah would need lifesaving bowel surgery and heart surgery. Nobody knew or prepared me for hydrops fetalis – an abnormal build-up of fluids in a newborn that kills 9 out of ten babies who are afflicted.

I found out the day he was born.

3 times over the course of the next few weeks and months, I would be called into the hospital in the middle of the night to prepare for his death.

A month into his hydrops, one of the supervising doctors corrected this statistic – it was 9 out of ten for otherwise “normal” babies; but it was in fact not survivable for babies with Down Syndrome and not survivable past 30 days.

10 days after his birth, this Skype message came in –

[24/05/2012 7:34:53 PM] Robb Demarest: I just got this message as I had my other laptop with me. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.
[24/05/2012 7:35:44 PM] Jackie M: It’s ok.
[24/05/2012 7:36:11 PM] Robb Demarest: No. It’s not, but I am sorry none the less.
[24/05/2012 7:39:29 PM] Jackie M: That’s fine. I had a meltdown when they told me he was dying and I had to make a choice to either let him die or to try and save him.
[24/05/2012 7:39:48 PM] Robb Demarest: I know. I read your blog

Any doubt about our relationship status was extinguished when he started inserting sexual talk into our Skype calls when I got home from the hospital every night. He’d stopped saying the “L” word but I didn’t want to push the point because my priorities had changed to Noah’s survival, and also I was mindful about his “need to take things slow” after the withdrawn marriage proposal.


baby dying 1.png

At the end of July I found out he was “talking” to another woman. He claimed then that he and I had been just “flirting friends”; did I forget that we broke up back in May, he asked, and yes, he did talk to “other people”. He apologized for the confusion and I told him I never wanted him to use any sexual talk with me ever again.

Over the following few weeks he started it all back up. Nope, it was all over with whoever he had been “talking” to, and he was back in Camp Jackie M.

Then it finally came out. Over the course of 2 days – 2-3 December 2012 – he told me he had in fact dated not one, but 2 women, after we broke up. One was a woman involved in Real Fear, a one-episode special he did some production work on. The other was Woman #8 – and she’s famous – so I’ve known about her all these years. This was what Demarest told me about them –

Part transcript from audio conversations 2-3 December 2012 –

Robb Demarest – Excuse me, you are my Baby! You are my f*cking Baby!

Woman #2 – Well, then don’t hook up with other people!

Robb Demarest – I didn’t hook up with anyone. I didn’t sleep with anyone.

Robb Demarest – You mean sexually? No, I didn’t have sex with anyone. So, say you’re sorry.

Woman #2 – Well, you’d better not have. You said you DATED two women.

Robb Demarest – I didn’t put my penis in them.

Woman #2 – Well, you’d better not do it again!

Robb Demarest – Nyok, do you love me?

Woman #2 – Why?

Robb Demarest – Do you love me?

Woman #2 – What’s that got to do with anything?

Robb Demarest – Answer the question

Woman #2 – Do YOU love me?

Robb Demarest – Of course I do. I think the absolute world of you. Do you love me?

Woman #2 – Fine I love you

Robb Demarest – Then stop being a little bumpyhead

Woman #2 – You’re a bumpyhead

Robb Demarest – So, what, you’re really getting offended that I dated people even though I didn’t sleep with them?

Woman #2 – Yeah, kinda

Robb Demarest – Well, maybe I was trying to get over the fact that you dumped me

Robb Demarest – Both were very short-lived and I didn’t think it was that big a deal. You broke up with me, you broke my heart…

Woman #2 – Apologize!

Robb Demarest – For what?!

Woman #2 – I told you already. I broke up with you, two weeks later you contacted me, apologized, made out like we’re still a couple…

(Some back and forths that started with Demarest denying having led me on, then =>)

Robb Demarest – Well, you’re my Baby

Woman #2 – What’s that got to do with anything?

Robb Demarest – Exactly. Our relationship super-exceeds everything else.

Woman #2 – Doesn’t mean you can go off and fool around with other people and then assume I’ll be here to show you my boobs every time you feel like jerking off

Robb Demarest – Sweetie, please don’t speak like that. I like to think of you as very elegant and highbrow, and when you say “show you my boobs every time you feel like jerking off” – that’s not highbrow

Woman #2 – Well, that’s essentially what happened

Robb Demarest – Well okay, that’s because you’ve got a f*cking amazing body. Have you seen your ass?

Robb Demarest – I made ONE mistake.

Woman #2 – One mistake.

Robb Demarest – Yes ONE mistake.

Woman #2 – What’s that?

Robb Demarest – I got drunk and I got ahead of myself in our relationship then I felt really guilty about that, and I could never recover from that and apparently you broke up with me. So, I’m sorry. Everything was going well until then.

Robb Demarest – Baby? Don’t be mad at me. Don’t be upset with me, I love you.

For the next four years, I blamed myself for Demarest having dated other women while Noah was in the hospital. After all, like he said, I was the one who dumped him, those relationships were very short-lived, and he never slept with those women.

So how would this sequence of events correspond with what Woman #8 would tell me years later?


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