this week has been glorious
He called me on Monday night, just to talk. Just to talk. He was in the best mood, and informed me that he loved talking to me on the phone, and that I was the only person he would spend more than five minutes with because he normally hates the phone, so it’s surprising that our conversations last over an hour on average. And we don’t even talk about deep, serious things…most of the time. During this one he talked about White Castle burgers for fifteen minutes straight.
He mentioned that, aside from all the sexual tension and frustration and the moments that make him want to strangle me for being so frustrating or when I’m threatening to stab him with various implements, he’s truly happy that he knows me and he just adores me. I am one of his favorite people. Awww.
He also said that he fucking loves my laugh, that I have one of the best laughs he’s ever heard when I really let myself go and enjoy the moment, and that that’s part of the reason he likes talking to me on the phone because I don’t let myself laugh at work. He’ll spend twenty minutes trying to get me laugh and when it works, he just basks in it.
We talked for an hour, then his phone died, so he met me at Denny’s and bought me a chocolate milkshake. We sat in the booth, talking and laughing, for another two hours. He made me laugh so hard I cried. Then we stood outside while I froze and made him stand near me so I wouldn’t be cold.
He hugged me and said that it was a good thing he was able to resist temptation because if he was a lesser man, he’d have to molest me in the parking lot for looking up at him the way I was. I didn’t even care; I was just basking in the perfection of the evening. We had a good time together, it wasn’t all sexual-tension-ized, it was just kindof ridiculously awesome.
Yesterday he made me go with him after work to try this other milkshake that was nearly orgasmic. He bought it for me “for my birthday.” Um, you’re getting me a better present. You’ve been telling me for six months what you’re going to get for me for my birthday… follow through, dammit.
Then this morning he called before he went in to work, to wish me happy birthday “in person.”
It’s moments like tonight that make me love him, that makes it so fucking hard for me to keep my distance or even think about leaving. I’ve been told that I should get the hell out of dodge for my own sanity and well-being, but… well… the good times are so good.
This is why you should run far, far away from sociopaths. They will always win.
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.
general musings
yeah, I broke up with my boyfriend less than a week ago, and I’m already about 98% sure that I’m going to sleep with this guy.
I’m going to hell.
It took him TWO DAYS to kiss me. Two days after I broke up with my boyfriend, he kissed me.
And all I could think was, “More.“
-+-
I will break him down. I will. I don’t care if I get hurt in the process. I am going to win.
…famous last words.
as it stands right now…
the words “we need to talk” are threatening to tumble out of my mouth in projectile word-vomit every time I meet his eyes.
I don’t love him anymore. I never did get the lightning strikes… the warm fuzzies just kinda settled and turned into dust bunnies.
I am happier in the presence of friends than I am with him.
I wanted to tell him not to come over, that everyone was going home already (even though they weren’t and we were having a great time).
when he came, instead of being supportive, I felt repressed, pushed into the little box marked “taken.”
and by the end of the night, I just wanted to run. run far away and never look back.
because if I did, I would see his forlorn, broken-hearted puppy look left in the dust, and I’d know that I am scum.
I’ve known for a long time, I suppose. I wanted to break up back in December. but I stayed because he’s safe.
and, all in all, he loves me. I know I’d have a good home, good husband, good father.
I’d still be trapped. I told him to never refer to the future as certain again after I had a mini-panic attack at his casual use of the word “when” instead of “if.”
fuck my life.
all the unspokens
were throwing her off.
Far off.
-+-
Concentrating fiercely, nearly sticking her tongue between her teeth, giving non-committal nods and grunts in response to the clingy chatterbox at her elbow, she nearly jumped when he suddenly appeared, drink and jacket in hand.
He said his farewells to the bubbly blonde, then turned to her, reaching out for a hug as well. He didn’t speak, and barely touched her, but somehow she felt every moment.
-+-
She caught movement out of the corner of her eye, and glanced up to see him approaching her. She couldn’t stop the genuine smile of greeting from spreading across her face. ”Why are you back?” She hated how soft her voice sounded, and bit her lip, refusing to speak anymore.
He stretched out a hand and traced it slowly down her back, saying quietly, “To see your pretty face.”
Her ears instantly turned scarlet, and she refused to look at him as he continued walking by. She never listened to such lines, so why should she care about this one? Why couldn’t she keep the idiotic grin off of her face?
-+-
She glanced up in mid-sentence to see him walking away, and fought the feeling of disappointment that began to surface. She’d succeeded in pushing him away, so why did she feel let down? She turned back to the people she’d been speaking to, turning up the wattage of her fake, I’m-so-interested smile, and continued with her casual, off-the-cuff, prepared speech.
As she finished, she glanced up to see him standing several feet away, staring directly at her. She was annoyed to feel her heart give a fickle double-tap, and tried to ignore the fact that she was happy that he’d apparently waited to say goodbye to her. She raised an eyebrow at him, aware that she couldn’t simply leave the people she’d been speaking with, and waited to see what he needed.
Instead, his gaze lowered, and he let his eyes wander slowly down her body then back up in a very exaggerated display of male approval. She felt the tips of her ears burning. Why was he doing this? He didn’t have anything further to prove, so why was he still acting vaguely interested?
His gaze met hers again, and she felt the blush streak from her ears, down her neck and all the way to her toes in reaction to his intense, heavy-lidded expression.
If he was faking it, she was certainly fooled.
She managed to flash him an impish grin, at which he finally gave a small, quiet smile in return, and walked away.
She refused to think about the fact that she wouldn’t see him for the next few days.
-+-
Her heart leapt into her throat, pounding relentlessly, as she caught sight of him from the corner of her eye. She kept walking, forcing her hands to keep from trembling.
Why did he have such a powerful hold over her?
-+-
She crouched, adjusting the position of a few objects as she continued talking to her “customer.” She glanced up just in time to see him walking past, casting a curious glance over at the visitor in her department. He then looked down at her, and deliberately winked. She began to frown at him in response, but her mouth unwillingly pulled into a slow, satisfied smile. As he walked away, she could hear the baritone of his chuckle floating back to her.
fine, you win.
OKAY.
I admit it.
yes, I’m attracted to you. (ogod, am I helplessly drawn to you like the ill-fated moth who knows nothing but death awaits…)
will I ever do anything about it? heck no. I would never break his heart like that. and I know it wouldn’t be anything more than a fling, if that.
but you know what?
you’re attracted to me, too. and you can’t deny it.
you’ve been flirting with me since day one, even pursuing me. Giving me sweet nicknames, showering me with compliments, flirtatious comments (not to mention all the toe-curling damned winking), asking for my number so you can text me when you’re thinking of me… what the hell. who DOES that?
I’m resisting, but only barely.
[although you do make it easier with your apparent split personalities.]
ogod.
ogodogodogod.
I’ve come at this from the viewpoint that it will end well, in Happily Ever After. but what if it doesn’t? what if we break up?
and the worst part… I think I might be the one to break up with him.
I realized today that I’m not happy.
It’s all the little things that are turning out to be big things. I don’t feel crazy-in-love. And it really bothers me that I am smarter than he is. (There’s no denying it.) I act like I’m still single when I’m not actually with him. I tell myself it’s because I’m so used to being independent, but what if it’s not?
But. He is wonderful. He does love me. a lot. He would be a good husband, and an amazing father.
It will be okay. I think.
If we can just work out a few things…?
I will NOT change him. He will not change for me. (she said to herself a thousand times to remind herself of this fact.)
I guess it’s safe to say that the honeymoon’s over. (It took 6 months; my timing’s doing better! It used to last only 2 or 3.)
The tragedy of memory
Just kidding (about “oh happy day”). I guess the pain is still there, just buried, and it takes another medium to bring it all screaming back to the surface again. This time, the medium was “The Fountain.”
Sometimes I think that memory is one of the greatest faults of humanity, the tragic flaw that allows us to hold on to bitterness, resentment, unfulfilled desires, anger, sorrow, grief and hope. Yes, I would even consider hope a tragic flaw, because it brings so much pain to our lives when it is left unfulfilled or broken.
I can’t watch The Fountain, or listen to the soundtrack, without my heart breaking all over again. We would watch it together, he and I, as he would trace promises onto my skin and wipe away my tears, promising that we would be like the immortal lovers on screen, finding one another through time over and over again.
I will never forget the sound my heart made when I discovered that he had… well, amongst other things, knocked her up.
I cover up the memories with anger, bitterness, even caustic humor, but there is still deep, wordless pain there. He hurt me, broke my heart, abandoned me, only to resurface again with a new life, sheepish apology on his face as he watched my world fall down around my ears.
I thought that he was The One. I had thought that we were supposed to be together, and we’d live in a perfect little house and raise children and fight and grow old together. We were going to live on the island, and he was going to buy me a piano, and our kids would walk to school while I was a wife and he taught as a college professor. (Maybe I was trying to recreate my own childhood, in that future. After all, we were all much happier.)
Then.
Suddenly I was no longer innocent, no longer believed in happily ever after or even love at all. But the memories were still there, haunting, hurting, tearing me apart. I forced myself to move on, to grow up, to repress the memories.
And this damn movie brings every single one back, sharp as the first time I experienced them.
I need the boyfriend to hold me, tell me that everything is going to be okay because we won’t fail, that he would never leave me, that our love is for life.
But I know that I need to heal. I need to push through the hurt and pain by myself so that I can believe him when he tells me that this is real, this is the lasting good love. I don’t want to use him as a crutch, I want to be able to trust him fully.
And as time goes on, as our relationship grows, I find the past hurts slowly healing with each new experience, as he slowly proves just by living that no, he’s not going to leave me and yes, he does love me more than himself.
Our love may not be the insane tilt-a-whirl crazy ride of ups and downs that I had with him, but it’s the Good, solid kind that is going to last.
And I need to remember that, no matter what.
These are the moments
You know how in movies, they show a montage of the couple being happy together and having fun and being ridiculously cute, etc.? And it’s usually followed by some hardship that they have to go through, and they have to hold on to the happy memories and the strength of their bond to make it through, blah blah?
Well.
That’s where we’re at. At the happy part, I mean. I feel like we’re making all these happy memories for this random montage to be played in the future where we can cry and say ‘oh those were the days’ and be nostalgic.
We randomly went out last night, and we ended up going to this island nearby and wandering down to the fancy hotel bar and sitting by the fire for a bit then walking on the beach in the waves and making out and being so incredibly romantic that it hurt. Then on the way back we stopped by a place where they make ice cream and were romantic some more and I fell even deeper in love with him.
It’s odd, because I’ve always known him. And yet… now I know him. I love him more and more each day. I’m glad, because in the beginning, I thought “well yeah, I love him, but if this is it, I’m worried.” But everyone says you love people more as time goes on. And it’s true.
I feel so strangely protective of him sometimes. He’s never cared what people think, but I always have. It’s good for me to be with him because he helps balance me out… and vice versa.
Being human is no fun
…sometimes.
There are moments when I realize that my dog is infinitely happier than I am.
There are also times when being human means we make mistakes. We experience pain. And, since we haven’t reached enlightenment (yet…, or at least I’m the last to know), our past can still bring us pain.
For example: I’ve been in a few relationships. Since they are in my past, it is safe for you to assume that they failed. And unfortunately, most of them failed miserably (actually most were spectacularly awful). They failed for a number of reasons, but they each had one thing in common.
There was always another woman.
And yes, these experiences have changed me. I have grown from each encounter, I believe into a better person. However, there is one drawback: I have become a jealous person.
It’s painful to realize. I used to be carefree. I used to skip blithely through life, uncaring who my significant other talks to, works with, hangs out with when they’re not with me…. I didn’t care. I figured, hey, they have chosen to date me, so what could happen?
But after the first decided to leave me so he could date his co-worker, the second admitted that he was in love with his best (married) friend and she was leaving her husband for a trial separation so they could “see what happens,” and the third actually slept with his ex behind my back and got her pregnant, (then decided to “do the right thing” and marry her) (God he was such a winner), I have become slightly jumpy.
After all, they say that the only common factor in all your dysfunctional relationships is you. (or something to that effect.)
So it isn’t too hard to understand that I would be worried when his ex comes up often in conversations and likes to stalk him online and just so happens to remain involved in many of their past social activities.
Ugh. Love is hard. It’s difficult to care about someone, because then they have the power to hurt you.
