Everyone that told me they'd never leave, left.
Sleep and leave, kiss and leave, grope and leave. Highschool nights consisted of that vicious cycle and, on good days, long study sessions. I guess by college the two extremes had combined, and I slept my way to high honours. By the time I'd graduated, I didn't really hold an interest in a lot of men. More specifically, none at all; save for one.
Me being a psychiatrist, The Joker appealed to me from the first moment I'd heard of him. Unknown past, unknown origin, unknown motive. Just this crazy, unique clown out to scare Gotham into one big laughing fit.
Anyone who could crack this case and get under his skin would be sitting on a gold mine. Huge job offers; interviews for biographies (of the patient and myself); the option to publish the first book of its kind: The Joker's Mind Unraveled. I think the title is just a great grabber.
After I had clawed my way onto Arkham's most respected list, those sessions with The Joker I was rewarded seemed a godsend. He was interested in me as well. He trusted me, he opened up to me, he listened to me. Most important of all, he helped me to see what really mattered in life. With his help, I was molded into the person I was meant to be: Harley Quinn. I saw what I had really wanted all along: A life of Laughter at his side.
He was different from other men. He hadn't made that false promise to never leave me.
I admit, it always stung when he kicked me out, especially on the rainy nights. By morning time though, my Puddin' would let me come back home. Sometimes, if I was lucky and had gone to stay with Red, he would even come to get me.
Still, he made me leave. Mistah J never left me.
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Joker and Harl. :D