I’ve never felt so completely vulnerable and confused
or: How I Found Myself In a Relationship With An Emotionally Abusive Sociopath
(and I still don’t want to get out)
Scene: early March, a little more than a month after I began a new job. I’d met this guy once or twice, and had had difficulty remembering his name, due to the fact that I saw him maybe once a day and he’d ignored me the first time we met. I found him attractive, but I’d noticed that he likes to flirt with every girl in a three mile radius, so my walls were firmly in place and locked.
-+-
We’d had exactly two conversations consisting of something more than “I remembered your name today!” before the following took place.
Also, I should note that on this particular day, I was wearing absolutely no makeup because I’d been quite sick, and my hair was a mess. a MESS. Ladies, you know what that does to your self-confidence.
“So,” I began confidently, daringly, my eyebrow raised in challenge. ”What would Freud say about me?” My mentality was somewhere along the lines of Read me, bitch. See if you’ve got what it takes. I doubt you can, because I’m the master at portraying what I don’t feel, but good luck. Let’s see if you’re up to it.
Pride, as they say, will inevitably come crashing down upon you with all the subtlety of a baby grand piano on poor Wile E. Coyote.
“I would say you’re a little self-conscious,” he said, his tone even, casual, as he effortlessly stripped away my defenses. My hands involuntarily twitched, and his gaze dropped to my fingers, which had begun twisting themselves together without my knowledge. ”Whoa, extremely self-conscious about your image, and the way people see you.”
Dammit. Okay, no biggie. Everyone feels that way, so let’s move on.
He glanced back up at my face, and paused for a moment. ”You’re desperate for people to know how smart you are. You don’t want to be taken for granted.” The way he said it made the desire sound silly and childish.
That one hurt. Does it come across that loudly? I thought I did a better job at hiding it.
He nodded to himself, and finished, “And you don’t know what you are doing in life. At all.” He shook his head with a patronizing laugh.
I managed a casual laugh as I forced a shrug. ”Who does?” How did I wind up asking him to do this to me?
He waited a beat, then said quietly, “You’re a people-pleaser, to a fault. You don’t know what you want, so you try to do what everyone else wants instead.” He paused, then said, almost under his breath, “Disappointing.”
No. You were supposed to say easy, simple things like “You enjoy talking to people,” or “You have to have a water bottle with you at all times,” or “You don’t like wearing flat shoes.” Not… true things. Not the things that hurt. You weren’t supposed to be able to see me this clearly, this easily. I don’t even know you, how is it that you see me so damn well?
I felt the anger and humiliation sweep over me in a hot flash; I could tell that my face was turning red. It was the last straw. Thankfully, my voice remained steady. ”I’m going back to work.” He made a teasing comment, but I pretended not to hear, walking with my head held high.
Everything he’d said was true.
-+-
I went home and picked a fight with my boyfriend. I asked him to tell me something that he knew to be true about me, not as a boyfriend but as an actual fact about my personality or the way I think. His response? ”Your hair is brown.”
To be fair, I knew it was a loaded question and I was looking for a fight. But still. Seriously? This guy has seen me at work for a month and he’s able to pull apart my soul. You’ve known me for fourteen years and you barely scratch the surface!
I told him the basics of what had happened. I said that I wished I knew that he saw me for me and loved me anyway, instead of wondering if he even noticed these things.
His response? ”I notice more than you think!”
“Oh, like what?”
“…” He didn’t even look like he was trying to think of something. In fact, he looked almost bored.
I had to literally choke back the words, “This isn’t working, we should just break up.” I don’t want to break up with him on impulse, or just because he can’t say the right things… that seems wrong to me.
And yet, I wanted to just end it. It was yet another sign that Things Were Very Wrong.
-+-
The following day, my day off, I only thought of the encounter twice (or maybe twelve times), but felt the dread at returning to work twist a knot in my stomach.
He’d been so callous, almost casual as he saw right through me and stripped my defenses away with no more than a flick of his eyes. It was humiliating, the ease with which he read me. And he had taken what I see as my best qualities, and made them seem cheap, seedy, almost contemptible.
First, I wanted to march right up to him and demand an account. Or a retraction. Then, I wanted to avoid him completely; I’d be willing to go so far as to walk the opposite way whenever I saw him coming. I vacillated between being cool, aloof and distant, or warm and friendly as usual to show that he hadn’t gotten to me.
By the time I got to work, I had planned out every outcome and reached the conclusion that I could do… absolutely nothing. He tied me up in knots in ways that nobody had, not since…that one.
I chatter when I’m nervous, and I’m extra-friendly when I’m feeling particularly vulnerable or afraid. So of course I found myself striking up a friendly conversation with one of the other employees, who helpfully volunteered to take me to where I needed to go. As I followed, talking cheerfully with this bright woman, with an easy laugh and warm smiles, I looked up and saw him come around a corner. Barely hesitating a step, I continued smoothly with my sentence, registering his look of… relief? recognition? and filing it away for later.
I ignored both him and his coworker, and began talking to the floor supervisor. I needed a code to get into the store room, and only the sales person had it at the time.
However, he wouldn’t leave well enough alone, and started talking as I walked past. ”Here she is, with her introverted intuition, and her feeling, and her judging.”
I grinned at him, forgetting my irritation in the rush of delight. He’d not only remembered the four letters I’d given him, but he’d looked them up. ”Did you take the test? What are you?” My boyfriend hadn’t bothered, even though I’d asked him to do it several times and had even tried to walk him through the online quiz.
He blinked at the change that had come over me. I could tell that he was taken aback, but just raised my eyebrows, waiting for an answer. He said that he didn’t remember his type, and went for another box.
-+-
He was standing in the pathway as I walked past. A grin crossed my face as I flicked my gaze down to the broom and back up to him, opening my mouth to make a sarcastic comment about chimney-sweeping, when he beat me to it. ”Can I tell you something?”
I blinked. ”Uh, sure.” My momentum had carried me just past him, so I slowed and turned back to face him.
“You look very pretty today.”
I’m sure he didn’t miss the flush of pleasure that transformed my face for a split second, but I quickly tried to cover it up. ”Um. Thanks?”
He nodded and turned away, and I tried to keep from letting his comments get to me. He wants to flirt with every girl. I’m just another on his list.
-+-
Saying nothing, he walked up to me and pulled me close for an impromptu side-hug. I responded instantly, my arm sliding across his back and tightening into a hug, before I caught myself. He felt it the moment I realized what was happening, and pushed him away. ”Why are you being weird?” I asked suspiciously.
“I’m not,” was his only response as he walked away.
-+-
I looked up as he walked past, nodded slightly, then went back to what I was doing. A few moments later, I realized that I could still see him in my peripheral vision.
When I looked back up at him, he made a sound. ”Hmm.”
“What.” I knew my tone wasn’t welcoming, but couldn’t bring myself to care. He was just… standing there, looking at me. Even as I watched him, I saw something flash across his face. ”What?” I demanded again.
“Nothing, it’s just…” At my impatient look, he slowly let his gaze drift down me and back up again. ”I’ve never really taken the time to look at you before.”
I scowled, and opened my mouth for a retort, when he finished quickly, “and really, you’re quite pretty. The more I know you, the prettier you get.”
Ew. Nice line. I rolled my eyes and turned away, as if rejecting the comment physically. I looked back down at what I was doing, allowing my hair to hide my face as I quickly processed his motives. He was trying to set me up for something, but I wasn’t sure what.
However, while I was (accurately, of course) suspicious of him, why couldn’t I keep from blushing? My entire face had turned pink, and I couldn’t keep the smile from tugging at my mouth.
-+-
Still later, as he began his rounds, he turned to me. ”We should have lunch sometime.”
I didn’t even bother looking up. ”Uh, yeah.” My tone made it clear that I meant the opposite. I couldn’t see what face he made, but he turned and kept walking after a moment.
As he walked past again, he said, “Really. Let’s have lunch next week.”
I looked at him for a long moment. ”Right.” Sure, lunch. You haven’t shown the slightest interest in me for a month, then all of a sudden you want to have lunch? What’s with you? I have a boyfriend!
-+-
I don’t even know how it happened, but he sank his hooks deep within me, one step at a time. Soon, work became hollow without him there; weekends were unbearable. I would look up whenever I heard his door open, even if I knew he was elsewhere. Seeing him would bring a kick to my stomach, soon followed by vague nausea as I remembered that I have a boyfriend.
So it begins.
