The single story (yes, me...finally) (4499 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.47 on 45 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by ohlookasquirrel (View user info) at 2005-11-14 15:09:27 EST
Plus camwhore, because why the hell not?
So I submitted so many of these to uber, over such a long period of time, that all of you know far too much about my long, messy relationship.
And I'm out now, officially. It's amazing. I've been single for two months, but I stopped answering his calls as of yesterday, and it feels even better.
Here's to the single life, and here's one, large compilation essay that brings it all together.
PS. Holy emo shit.
PPS. Italics are essential to this making any sense, thanks so much bart.
-------
I have been struggling for over a year to tell him, and one weak attempt finally escapes. "Don't use those words with me, no one deserves to be treated like that," I say, just like I rehearsed. He pushes right past it.
"Slut slut slut slut slut, Shut the fuck up baby, you piece of shit," he says, but a switch in my head has turned off. It doesn't mean anything. Words are words, and I don't know which ones are true at this point.
"All he is now is an ex-boyfriend. Ex," I tell myself. He's also one thousand miles away. I take the phone away from my ear and I can still hear him talking, but now it's unreal. His voice is small and unimportant, and I click the receiver. Something immediately washes over me, but it isn't relief. More like loss.
Three years before I hang up the phone, we meet through a mutual friend. He is charismatic, off-the-wall funny and interested in me. It takes over six months of intermittent, dramatic courtship, but by the spring of our Junior year of high school, we're dating. I am drawn towards him, intensely and instantly.
A few months into the relationship, a pattern has already been established. We're sitting in an empty restaurant in the middle of Chicago. For some reason by the time we get there, wasting time before his train leaves, there's never anyone in the restaurant but the two Chinese women who run the place, and us. I'm fiddling with my food, making intricate patterns to avoid looking up. His arms are crossed and he is glaring. I ask the obvious.
"Is something wrong?"
His eyes dart towards me.
"Stop asking that. Just go home already. You know what you did." His sharp movement and the shift in the timbre of his voice draw questioning eyes from behind the register, raise eyebrows. I swallow. I'm remembering a moment a few weeks ago, the calm period before one of the inevitable explosions.
This time, we're on vacation and the house is completely silent except for a few electrical whisperings. It has to be an ungodly hour of the morning. There's no way it could be earlier - the suburban crickets have already grown hushed. The television is throwing strange green shadows on the wall, and he's grinning at me past the exhaustion. The world is us. He encloses me in his arms.
Moments like that completely convinced me that it would be the final time. This time the cycle would be over.
There was something too reassuring about the programmed ups and downs of our relationship. I knew that no matter how wonderful things seemed, in a few days, maybe a week, I would slip up and then there would be an eruption. Whenever I was happy for too long, I became apprehensive. And then the phone call, the hissed staccato words or the blank eyes.
There was always the aftermath - the weeks of trying to make things right again, of pushing past the silence and the vast physical space he put between our bodies (especially that). Eventually it would ebb away. And one day there would be an apologetic tone in his voice, an invitation to begin again. No matter what, it would always come back to that.
"I think I'm going crazy", I tell a friend.
I'm deleting and blocking emails in case he finds my password, I'm obsessively checking for cleavage or midriff in the mirror before I leave, I'm hyperventilating when I see his name on the caller ID.
"Well what do you expect?" my friend answers. He is avoiding my insinuations. No one wants to ask about my new relationship, this boyfriend who is suddenly the only thing. Even strangers show more concern at the whispered curse, the way his hand clutches my arm suddenly and fiercely before he realizes that people are looking. It becomes a game all too easily. It's so simple to slip into the role of the victim, the martyr, and suddenly I'm submerged. Unacceptable behavior becomes routine - as long as it's nothing new.
"Slut."
It always comes back to that. It's a pet name. Everyone throws it around now; it's just another word. But still, when the accusation comes from someone you love, when it's piercing the air and coming straight for you, it feels shocking and dirty and it's a betrayal.
"I'll call you a fucking slut, because you're better than that. Look at what you wear - you're asking people to look at you. I don't want anyone else to look at you," he tells me.
In my room later, I'm reading everything I can on relationships gone bad, determined to find the simple impetus to leave. "Boys who have seen domestic violence are three times as likely to abuse," I read. I actually stop to wonder if that makes it okay. One in five girls my age report being physically or sexually abused by their partner . He doesn't hit me. He doesn't sexually abuse me. I begin to think that I'm overreacting. The numbers rise to almost one in three if verbal and emotional abuse are included . And so this is normal is what I understand.
I desperately search for something that tells me this isn't okay. I find simple point-by-point checklists for the psychologically abused, and I read them curiously, trying to affect an outsider's perspective.
"You begin to believe that perhaps, you truly are [ugly, fat, a dirty bitch]." I disregard this because his words have hardened me and don't mean anything anymore. Slut is just a name.
"He becomes upset whenever you spend time with friends or family, and you have isolated yourself...from people who were once important to you." I disagree. They left me has become my mantra.
"Because you have tied happiness to him, you are afraid that he might leave you, causing you conform to his requests and act in ways that he desires." But he's the only person who can make me happy now. "You have lost interest in things that once held importance in your life." Because he's all that matters. I decide to stay.
It was my secret. Once I tried to tell my best friend. I was wary, because he had warned me about that boy months before our relationship even started. He's bad news, don't do it. And I defiantly struggle to prove him wrong. Every time that boy gives me a poem on neat lined paper (crumpled from his pocket, I wrote it on the train because I couldn't stop thinking about you) or says, "I love you" I run to show him or tell him. I am already too far in to find my way out by this point, but I don't know it yet, so I mention it to my friend.
"Do you think I dress like a slut?" I type into the blinking computer, because that's easier.
He types back, "Is this about what I think it is?" and it ends there. And every time that I tried to tell someone I just got stuck. Now it comes rushing out at awkward, unreasonable times. Now I can't stop talking about it.
Now as he leaves the rambling, drunken phone messages (I hope you get a new boyfriend and I hope he rapes you and kills you because of how you make me feel you stupid whore), as he begs for me back and then steels himself against my tears when I waver, I'm throwing my story at everyone I meet. My counselor, my new friends, the master of my college - they know the skeleton. I desperately want them to know - this is who I am. The therapist my college provided for me - she knows more, and I think she understands. She looks at me with wide eyes and a half smile and asks, "But what do you want out of this?" And I can't stop talking about it.
"Will you marry me?" he slurs. Three am and drunk, four am and angry, five am and screaming at me past the growing abyss. One minute the loving coo, the next minute the harsh fast spilling words and the emotional wall. It's like a trigger, and suddenly I fall into the expected role. Suddenly, I'm responding. I'm begging and pleading and I don't even know why.
With outsiders - those who accidentally look in one day and are forever entangled - there's a cycle too. It always begins with well-meaning, with a burst of lectures on how simple it is for me to extract myself. Then annoyance, when I nod and smile but none of it happens. No matter what they say, a day later I am still sitting at home waiting for him, and I'm pretending this is normal. Usually, after not too long, they give up. They grow silent and hard when I try to talk about him. Most friends just slide out of my life - one by one. I don't notice that they're gone until suddenly, I'm all by myself.
It's the reason there are still abusive relationships and it's the reason most women (and men) will stay. When your support system is gone, your love is everything. No matter what they do or say, they're all you have, so you can only cling more desperately. And even now, in the aftermath - the eerie emptiness of being without him, of plastering my personality onto someone else because there is no way that I can possibly exist on my own - I listen to the names and the fury and the pain.
They all say, "Find someone worth your while". They all say he wasn't worth it. But what happens once someone has poured that much time and that much soul into an emotional vacuum? What does someone do when they finally understand that as far in as they are and as impossible as it is to get out, it's all a waste? They stay. I can't even pinpoint the wrong turn, the momentous instant. Looking back down the tunnel I've come through, all I can see is the jumble of mistakes and layers upon layers of secrets.
And with the outsiders, with the curious eyes that see the hollowness - the other cycle starts up again too. As soon as people think they understand, they disappear. They dissolve and I'm left alone again, only this time I don't even have him. It's too messy for anyone to deal with - there's too much raw energy, too much need and too much hurt. Instantly everyone becomes scarce.
"I want you to myself," he whispers.
---
my favorite prom picture (I know, I know, forever ago, but remember, I haven't really posted in a year) - because he's not in it.
User Reviews
Submitted by c1ndy (user info) at 2005-11-26 18:59:28 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
+2 prom
Submitted by Stin (user info) at 2005-11-18 08:42:17 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Great news, and it's good to see you back here and hear you're doin' good at Yale.
Submitted by Istaros (user info) at 2005-11-16 13:13:46 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
you'll make it. your cells can still metabolize, you can still breathe, your organs function. the only thing really worth the time and effort involved in getting stressed out over it, is not being able to stay alive. as long as your veins rush and your nerves spark, you can figure out anything else that's thrown at you, with both grace and resolve. and if you ever were in such a life-threatening situation, you wouldn't have time for stress anyway.
it won't be easy, but you know that already. there's no great reward, either. the truth is nobody's life is ever 100% satisfactory. being in a constant state of desire is what makes us human. so even if you achieve whatever it is that you have in mind, the elimination of the abyss, whatnot, you may find yourself wondering why you don't feel 'solved.' but there's no such thing as a person who's not broken. whether you take this as hope or desperation is your choice.
"Submitted by blujnbbyqn (user info) at 2005-11-14 16:11:28 (#)
Ranking: 0
The most important part is "getting it" The second part is "getting through it". You really have done the hardest part already. Trust me. Every day gets easier from here.
Michelle "
christ, who else from ages past may appear?
Submitted by kai070169 (user info) at 2005-11-16 00:12:25 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Dear God, I still love her...
Submitted by EatMeCompletely (user info) at 2005-11-15 11:09:43 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
It's great that you realized the truth in the matter and stepped away. It give me a little insight as to why victims stay, even though I know the generalized reasons.
I seem to recall telling you to ditch him quite a while ago. Either way, good luck. Stay away from him. Don't try to be his friend for awhile, if that's the route that you plan to take. I think that you should cut ties altogether. He sounds like a nutcase, by your description.
Stay strong and enjoy the rebound. My rebound rocks right now. Find yourself an 18 year old girl. It worked for me. You don't want to be a lesbian? That's OK, too. Good luck to you.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2005-11-15 07:23:40 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
It's been a long time since I looked into domestic abuse. It's a weird and complex thing.
The thing that most people never realise is that the guy you loved did genuinly love you. He really did, but he was just fucked up. The problem is not in feeling emotion, confusing love and hate, but in demonstrating it.
Thinking about it now makes me wonder how it ties into other thoughts I've had. Love is a very precious feeling to me, I'm a die hard romantic and I believe that love is a staple part of human existence but there are with weird desires. People who fall in love with dead things or children or people like your ex. Should they be denied love? Should they be forcefully changed? Big questions that I struggle to answer.
Love and anger are all about intensity. They aren't really emotions in and of themselves. anger is really just an intensity of emotion, any emotion. Excessive feelings of sadness, fear or even joy can become anger. It's all dependant on how people manage that rush of feeling.
So yeah, he loved you and so he hurt you. He probably hated himself for doing it. Probably hated himself period.
Have you ever heard that expression "Loving someone enough to let them go"? This is one of those instances. When you where with him he didn't know how to stop hurting you and it was hurting him as a consequence. By leaving him you've hopefully started his first step on his road to healing. How he'll resolve his issues is up to him. Maybe he'll stop feeling guilty for hurting the people he loves, maybe he'll stop altogether. However he chooses to deal with it, in leaving him you've helped him.
Submitted by DavyJones (user info) at 2005-11-15 06:15:45 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
It amazes me how completely spineless some people are.
I don't even know who I think less of, the abuser, or the coward who let's themselves be abused OVER AND OVER for years on end.
+1 for not letting it ruin the rest of your life.
-1 for each year you did let it ruin.
Submitted by ohlookasquirrel (user info) at 2005-11-14 23:27:53 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Academia = scary
non school email = vimner.at.gmail.com
Submitted by Coyote (user info) at 2005-11-14 23:24:23 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
...this is probably the point at which I shouldn't say anything more in a public forum, since I'm still trying to make a go of it in academia.
...happy to take it to email though.
Submitted by ohlookasquirrel (user info) at 2005-11-14 23:13:26 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Haha dean flick is fantastic. When I was actually physically threatened by him, master k and dean flick totally pulled through. Except both of them think I'm an alcoholic, but that's besides the point. What college were you in?
Submitted by Coyote (user info) at 2005-11-14 23:02:56 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Note that Yale is a hotbed of sexual and relationship dysfunctionality,
and also that they won't keep track of your GPA for you.
Don't stress it, just play the game and learn how to manipulate your College Dean.
Submitted by ohlookasquirrel (user info) at 2005-11-14 20:32:35 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
It was my first relationship, I got sucked in young, and because I was psychologically manipulated, it felt normal to me. I was told that I was a "piece of meat" to anyone else, and he was the only boy that would ever "love me" or "not cheat on me", and I believed it.
Since I'm a freshman, I don't have a GPA yet, but I'm doing very well, thanks so much. I really don't feel the need to spew a list of credentials at you.
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2005-11-14 20:17:19 EST (#)
Ranking: -1
Yale? And it took you three years to figure out this fucking idiot was a total fucking idiot?
What's your grade point, 1.43?
Good fucking grief...women, like you, are dumber than shitballs.
Submitted by ohlookasquirrel (user info) at 2005-11-14 19:35:22 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
So...I'm from a major city, and I went to public school in the aforementioned major city.
As a result, Yale feels overwhelmingly white to me, and I'm used to white being the minority. I'd say that the internet is also overwhelmingly white, it being a tool of (generally) pretentious rich kids.
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2005-11-14 19:15:11 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
You're black?
You don't sound it. You just sound like a dumb chick.
Submitted by MandaPanda (user info) at 2005-11-14 19:09:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Unabonger (user info) at 2005-11-14 18:00:49 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
http://www.blackpeopleloveus.com
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-11-14 17:48:25 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I looked up co-dependent in the dictionary, and it had your picture next to it.
(but seriously, I am glad you got out)
Submitted by Merlina (user info) at 2005-11-14 17:25:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I remember you!!
Submitted by ess-arr (user info) at 2005-11-14 17:19:39 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
+2...
Submitted by Xcuses (user info) at 2005-11-14 16:41:07 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
My new philospohy is meaningless sex...so much easier
Submitted by blujnbbyqn (user info) at 2005-11-14 16:11:28 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
The most important part is "getting it" The second part is "getting through it". You really have done the hardest part already. Trust me. Every day gets easier from here.
Michelle
Submitted by shitfuck (user info) at 2005-11-14 16:10:04 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I'd nail it.
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2005-11-14 16:09:00 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Coyote (user info) at 2005-11-14 15:59:43 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Congrats on getting out of it in one piece.
I hear New Haven's a lot nicer these days than it used to be.
Submitted by MyTeeOne (user info) at 2005-11-14 15:49:46 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I was in a relationship once with a controlling bee-atch of a woman, and my friends slid away because, after countless attempts of helping me, they couldn't stand to watch me anymore. I was lucky - they were there for me when I did get out. Life has been grand ever since. Feel free to e-mail me if you need to vent/talk.
Submitted by boomslang (user info) at 2005-11-14 15:46:24 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by The_taste_of_Monkeys (user info) at 2005-11-14 15:43:47 (#)
Ranking: 2
You know, looking at the picture all I could think about was "Jesus, that chick on the left looks like me, same damn glasses and everything!" I was so distracted I forgot to pull myself off over you!
-------------------------------------------------
ha left. you're dumb!
Submitted by boomslang (user info) at 2005-11-14 15:44:44 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
That pink vest is positively smashing!
Submitted by The_taste_of_Monkeys (user info) at 2005-11-14 15:43:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
You know, looking at the picture all I could think about was "Jesus, that chick on the left looks like me, same damn glasses and everything!" I was so distracted I forgot to pull myself off over you!
Submitted by Method (user info) at 2005-11-14 15:42:22 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Bob, you sir, are a pervert.
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2005-11-14 15:41:49 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Method (user info) at 2005-11-14 15:39:25 (#)
Ranking: 2
do you have any greek in you?
-----
Would you like some?
HAR HAR
Submitted by Method (user info) at 2005-11-14 15:39:25 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
do you have any greek in you?
Submitted by ohlookasquirrel (user info) at 2005-11-14 15:38:10 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
method = beautifully inappropriate
Also, i'm meditteranean (fuck spelling), so that'd be a definite thick/curvy/whatever you call it no.
Submitted by Method (user info) at 2005-11-14 15:33:23 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
You look like you have such a tight little ass, Viv.
Submitted by FilthyAssistant (user info) at 2005-11-14 15:19:32 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I started writing a proper response to this but it decended into a depth of pessimism that even suprised me.
Submitted by ohlookasquirrel (user info) at 2005-11-14 15:19:20 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
And yes I just +2ed myself, fuckers.
Submitted by ohlookasquirrel (user info) at 2005-11-14 15:19:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Rebound = oh my god I love foreign Yale men
Submitted by TigerLilly (user info) at 2005-11-14 15:18:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Caulaincourt (user info) at 2005-11-14 15:17:38 (#)
Ranking: 1
You shouldn't hang out with black people, it's unhealthy.
The worse part of this, is that I'm actually part-serious.
-------------
Caul sometimes you can be such an idiot.
You look a little like Jennifer Love...very pretty.
Submitted by Caulaincourt (user info) at 2005-11-14 15:17:38 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
You shouldn't hang out with black people, it's unhealthy.
The worse part of this, is that I'm actually part-serious.
Submitted by ahumblefool (user info) at 2005-11-14 15:16:07 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Time heals all wounds, or at least buries them deep enough that you only think of the issues on dark nights when alone. Anyway, you will rebound and if you want to be, you will be truly happy as life is way to short not to be.
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2005-11-14 15:15:30 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Holy crap.
(I really, really wanted to make my reply just "slut" but decided aginst it.)
Submitted by leilani (user info) at 2005-11-14 15:15:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
he sucks!!!
good that you left.
Submitted by Leroy_Brown (user info) at 2005-11-14 15:13:05 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
and there's nicole3 on the right.
Submitted by DCWoody (user info) at 2005-11-14 15:12:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
wow, ain't seen you here in a while.
Submitted by ohlookasquirrel (user info) at 2005-11-14 15:10:24 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
erm...wrong picture attached...
I'm far left, naturally.