In the beginning it was all perfect. He was perfection wrapped in a silver bottle and tied with a cerulean bow -- with the ingredients containing a dash of charm, a shot of respectfulness, three doses of energy, optimism, and fun. I admired him for his very existence and the way that he portrayed himself.
He was my special scent.
And we clicked so easily.
A few weeks have passed and everything about him reflected off of me. I seemed happier, my friends would say. Thank God they didn't say I was glowing.
The day finally came where we were saying goodbye to each other and I was craving for his touch; the day came, that we finally had our first kiss.
It was at that moment, I knew, that I had fucked up.
Things started going south.
He told me he loved me.
And I did not feel the same.
He told me that he wanted to build a life with me. It was only two months, I did not feel the same.
He expressed to me his incredible depression and anxiety; they escalated, and with every move, I became his target.
All I wanted to do was make him happy.
The first few times I could not say it back. And then I did, and it made him smile so incredibly. As the months went by, I saw him struggle more with controlling his anger, depression -- controlling his emotions in general.
He became controlling.
In simple words, he would demean and bash me without raising his voice.
"Go change, I do not like that outfit." "Why are you dressing like a slut? In fact, dress better -- you're not trying in the relationship."
I always tried seeing the connections -- I could not. How could my outfits scream a break up?
"I can see your mustache all the way from here." He told me: He told me. He told me.
All I ever wanted was for him to be happy. I tried to make myself believe that I loved him for his sake. I tried making him see how much I cared for him.
There was always something more.
I found myself taking part in his interests because he denied mine so instantly -- everything that I desired or found an interest in, there was no competition.
Movies? "You're an idiot for wanting to see that movie, instead we're going out to eat, and you're buying"
"Alright, If it makes you happy."
After a year, I found myself working to fix him, each and every moment was to make him happy, and I could not see that I was beginning to lose a part of myself.
I remember his excuses for everything: "If you don't do this, I will fall into a depression, and then I just want to kill myself."
Everyone around me wanted him gone, I could plainly see why but I couldn't seem to let him go.
There is something about the vulnerable that tends to keep people locked. You see a wounded puppy who cannot fight for themselves and you just want to hold them. Then that puppy bites and you question where you went wrong.
He may have never put his hands on me but the aggression in his voice, words, speech: the very hold of his existence pressured me into staying. I could feel it escalating and he may have slipped up if I stayed any longer than 2 years.
It became harder and harder to stay. He crossed too many boundaries and I allowed him to.
When dating someone who has complete control over you, your very being becomes shadowed. You lose who you are and you find yourself acting in ways to avoid problems. You find yourself walking on eggshells every second of every day.
I finally quit things when he tried pressuring me into losing my closest friends. "You have me, why do you need them?" That became a line that I did not allow him to cross.
He invaded my personal life, he invaded my being, he managed to draw a wedge between my family members and I, and although I should have stopped him there, I had not.
The word NO was non existent to him. But the very day that I stop allowing him to have power over me, is that day that I was finally set free from all of his binds.
