Your Looks Are The Only Thing You Have Going For You. And Even Your Beauty Is Fading.

“Your looks are the only thing you have going for you.  And even your beauty is fading.”

After becoming reclusive at his request for nearly 2 years, I’ve started putting myself back out there.  Not dating (possibly never dating), but getting back to my hobbies and socializing with friends and acquaintances.  The hard part has not been getting into the swing of things, it’s been navigating conversations.

“The last time we talked you told me you were working on getting back together, is that still where you’re at?”

“Uhm.  No.  That’s ... not ever going to happen.”

Most are polite enough not to inquire further, but it’s kind of overwhelming (and I had completely forgotten) how many people I previously said these things to.  How many more corrections will I have to make?

“... for what it’s worth, you never looked like you were happy...”

Experienced.

He wanted more experiences.  He felt that I had cheated him out of a good life.

His experiences were based on decisions he’d made: he bought a motorcycle instead of travelling.  He played paintball every weekend in the summer instead of trying different things.  He insisted we needed to “stay home and clean this shithole up” (of course meaning I had to clean the house - which I generally kept quite orderly, in spite of him) if he ever did have a weekend off paintball instead of taking day trips. He was excessively conservative financially when it came to leisure activities with me.  If he wasn’t spending money on his bike or paintball, then he argued that we ought to be doing something for the house.

So things got dull, but he made it impossible for me to improve upon these circumstances.  He’d isolated me from my friends, and then complained that I never invited anyone over.  He told me I didn’t love him because I never bought him things or planned outings for us, but also insisted I should not be spending any money as I made so little and didn’t have the choice to be spontaneous.  He’d be furious that I never surprised him, but reminded me all the time that he hated surprises (unless they were really really good).  I never let us go anywhere because the house was always “filthy” and we couldn’t leave it in that state, athough he never had a problem leaving it to me.

I was the cause of him never getting to have any fun. If you count out all the paintball, going to the gun range, the strip clubs and bars he went to with his buddies*, zipping around on his motorcycle, and overdosing on video games while I cooked/cleaned/laundered/fixed drinks.

So after we had broken up, he looked to me to give him all the joys life had to offer that he never got to have.  It was one of the requirements on My List.  It was only fair as I was the architect of his misery.

I delivered on these experiences at great personal cost, financially and otherwise.

*Another story

Yep.  I would love to say with confidence that I’d be here if he hadn’t left me, but I don’t think I would.

The phrase “you don’t know what you have until it’s gone” can apply to terrible things too. You may not realize the amount of pain, depression, or abuse you are living through until you experience what life can be without it

Remember, not Reminisce

Today I’m feeling touch-starved, and it’s on these days that I miss him the most.

When I’m feeling emotional I try to remember rather than reminisce.  When we were together and I would reach out to him in bed in the morning or in the middle of the night, he would shrug me off angry that I woke him.

He rarely, if ever, cured my need for affection. So what is there to lament?

WOW

This red flag just smacked me in the face.

The reason I moved in with him in the first place was because his mother had kicked him out of his house. He had been attempting to help his sister, who was visibly frustrated, with something on her new laptop.  She got a bit snippy with him and he lost his temper.  He punched a chair which hit the wall and left a hole.

I was present for this event.  I saw it unfold.  I watched him punch something because his sister said “I knoowwww!” 

A running theme was that he didn’t like when people were “ungrateful” or didn’t acknowledge him when he was trying to help them.

Funny parallel:  I moved out with him so we could combine our measly incomes at the time and prevent him from having to live in utter squalor.  I was not ready to move out; I was still trying to finish my degree and school full time.  I had to pick up more shifts at my retail job and worked nearly full time.  My grades suffered as I was now a full time student, employee and abuse victim.

I sacrificed a lot for him to have a better life but that’s never a story that got told. Or a thank you I received.