http://letmereach.com/2015/06/17/hes-not-all-bad-and-other-dangerous-fallacies/
It started out all fun and giggles. He was awesome. A swell guy.
I was on the verge of divorcing my husband when we started talking. At first I never thought in a million years I would be his type.
I was. Because of how vulnerable I was at that moment. Looking back I wonder if he knew that, and that’s why he pursued. I had been told that he has done so in the past. Keeping an eye out for weak and vulnerable women.
I wanted to believe that there was some serendipitous reason our paths crossed. That he was sent to me to help to navigate the next chapter of my life. That I could love again after years of being in dilapidated marriage. That there was still hope in love. I guess in retrospect, he was. But not in the way I had thought at the time.
I told myself to ignore those red flags that kept popping up. After all, he did do a lot of nice things. We did have a lot of fun together. He was at times a really laid back, funny, articulate, good natured human being. He took me places. Paid for things. He made more money. He could afford to do so, and it wasn’t as if I expected him to.
We had so much in common. We liked a lot of the same things. Music, movies, events. Even things I could give two shits about were suddenly more interesting to me because of his interest in them.
Then it seemed everything he adored about me was suddenly deemed stupid, or in his own words, “faggotry”.
My hooping. My involvement with community theater…. Both activities he once found admirable, were now constantly under attack. When I talked about either, it was met with an eye roll, heavy sigh and derogative words….or worse. A simple “whatever”.
My friends and family were now all assholes or losers. Each person picked apart and all their faults put on blast.
Anything that took time away from him was met with suspect, accusations and assumptions. It didn’t matter I spent 90% of my time with him. It wasn’t good enough. In his head, the time I spent away from him was seen as me fucking around with my faggoty friends doing our faggoty things.
That I was out there flirting with men.
All males in my life became suspect. I was hammered about any male I interacted with too much on Facebook…. The fact that i was still friends with my ex’s (Despite that our connections were minimal and years laid between our last real interactions.) Any male I added as a friend during our time together was met with suspicion. I was told that my adding and talking with “random dudes” on Facebook was disrespectful to him. Meanwhile, he was friends with and remained friends with all his exes and old fuck buddies. And that was ok.
There were double standards. Question of my character. Doubt in my actions.
I didn’t love on him enough…. I didn’t really care about his day or what he was talking about. When I voiced a differing opinion, took offense to his criticizing “jokes” or stood up for myself I was told I was being argumentative. Too sensitive. Too difficult.
I needed to relax. Lighten up.
The words “I wish my girlfriend wasn’t such an asshole” fell from his lips like a leaky faucet.
The sex became infrequent. Less and less. I felt like a horrible ogre. Hideous because the man I was so sexually attracted to, didn’t bat an eye to my advances. I would send him pictures, walk around in sexy things, try and flirt with him. All I got were responses of “nice” and “OK”.
When I would express my frustration and hurt over this, he would become agitated saying he was working, or stressed out. Tired. What did I want from him?
I would come to find out he started to carry on sexually explicit conversations with other women. Mostly the old girlfriends and fuck buddies he was still friends with on his Facebook. Everything he accused me of doing behind his back, were exactly the things he was doing behind mine. He moved on to creating accounts on various sex sites. Perused and tried to engaged with women on Craigslist. Constantly flirting and sexting with his old flames.
When I would call him out on it, he would get angry and throw it back in my face. Made the issue about how I violated his trust by snooping through his phone and computer. He would justify his actions and shift the blame onto me.
He would gaslight and push me into emotional meltdowns which only proved his point even more. I was the one that was unstable. I was the crazy one.
At times I felt suffocated, lonely and alienated. Everything I knew and loved were irritations to him. I felt I couldn’t share anything about my life outside of him with him. My passions. My fears. My frustrations. I began to shut parts of myself down.
If we were out and I seemed to be having a good time. He would make snide comments about how I was being an attention whore. If I was quiet and reserved he would accuse me of having an attitude and being shitty towards him.
I would continue this dance with him for three years. Every time I would catch him in the act of behaving inappropriately with other women via text or online, he would tell me to fuck off. To get the fuck out of his life or fall in line with his demands. He’d refuse to see me or talk about our issues. In his head, they were my issues. Not his. So what did he need to talk about? I was the one that was fucking up our relationship, not him. I was the one that needed to get my shit together.
Naturally because I felt that I had invested so much into him and into this relationship, I begged and pleaded for us to work out our problems. I truly believed that since I had seen the better parts of him at times, that he had the capabilities of change. Of recognition on how his behavior was contributing to the merry go round we found ourselves in. Everything would be fine for a week or two and then all hell would break loose. Of course I was emotional….but why couldn’t he just understand why I was? Why couldn’t he see the cause and effect of our relationship? Or that his demands were selfish? Or that every time I bent a little more for him it was never enough? Why couldn’t he see how he was breaking my heart on a continuing basis?
I kept waiting for him to “wake up”. To realize what was in front of him. To see how deeply and unconditionally I loved him, because we had those moments where things were good. Those good moments that felt like euphoria because of the lows he would drag us through. He was the charming, fun loving, affectionate man I met in the beginning, I kept clinging on. It was in these moments I held steadfast to hope that this….this would be how it would be from now on. That we were on a new road to a better us.
Every time he hurt me, or disrespected me and our relationship, I sat befuddled wondering why? Why was he doing this? These things? How could someone who did all the nice amazing things one moment, turn around and do incredibly hurtful things? How could someone who insisted that they loved me, turn right around and ignore me? Lie to me? Betray my trust?
There was some good in there. There had to be. I saw it. I knew he was capable of it….I just couldn’t fathom why It became far and few that I saw those good parts.
Every time I would let my hope of him being his “awesome” self wither, he would turn on the light, drawing me back to him like a moth to the flame. I would remember….Yes! Yes! This is the person I knew was in there!! Inflating that balloon again to carry me through the next storm until he decided to give me that resuscitating breath of hope again.
Finally I just got tired of turning blue from holding my breath on the hope that he would right himself. Tired of the lies. Tired of the double standards. Tired of the gas lighting, the deflecting……I was just too tired to float anymore.
I want to believe that all people mean to do good. That no one intentionally sets out to be a dick, and not care about the repercussions of their actions. The thought of how we are all just trying to do the best in life with what we know is something that really resonates with the empath in me. I know we all have our lessons. We all have to play the dick at some point….but we try our hardest not to. Some people on the other hand….just don’t give a shit.
Maybe there are parts of him that are caring and wonderful. Charming and “loving”…..but those parts are used selfishly. They are not used in ways that most of us know them to be used. They are not used freely and unconditionally.
He’s not all bad…..He’s definitely not all that good. He’s definitely not good for me.
Or anyone for that matter.
How Kaycee got her Flow Back. 