Now I Know Better

     He was a smooth talker—coated everything he said in sugar and fed it to my brain for ten months. He would get me any books I wanted to read, any clothes I wanted to wear, and any number of lattes that I needed to function in college. On my 19th birthday, he got me a pair of shoes I had been eyeing for a while. We started dating when he was at home and I was away at college. We got close really quickly and started talking every day. He was trying to win me over and I was just as quickly falling for him. He made me laugh, made me happy, and heard my problems while I ranted to him. But the amount of red flags I kept turning a blind eye to was crazy. He was a manipulative boyfriend who gaslit his way into my life and kept manipulating me, emotionally and physically.

    If I didn’t call him at exactly the same time every night, I would have to “make it up to him.” If I didn’t text him a “Good morning,” that was grounds for punishing me, and I had to again, make it up to him. I was working all summer, and my wanting to sleep or take a break on some nights was not allowed—I had to give him extra time the next day. I thought all of it to be cute and fun because he was obsessed with me. Of course, how could I make him mad? He deserved all the attention and time in the world, and I had to work for it. I had to send him a photo of my outfit every day or he wouldn’t talk to me. I was supposed to introduce him to my family and friends as my boyfriend, but he wasn’t doing the same with his. 

     Every time I wanted to go out with friends, I had to give him an advance notice, a week prior, because otherwise, he claimed that I lied to him and hid stuff from him. He, on the other hand, could go out, drink, and party with his friends all night. If I was busy and not picking up his calls, he would call me 20 times more and wouldn’t stop until I called him back and told him I was busy. 

     Whenever I told him I didn’t want to share my pictures online, he would get mad, saying that I didn’t trust him enough. I would tell him it’s not about him, that I didn’t want to share photos over social media. But he would insist. He slowly kept sucking away all my patience, and I was getting mad and frustrated at him for the things he did. I lost the energy to fight, argue, and defend myself every day. We didn’t go even one day without a fight because I was “not treating him right”!

    One day, I found pictures of random women on his iPad in the same hidden folder he’d claimed he used to store important documents. There were no documents—only pictures, all taken at nasty angles. When I confronted him about it over FaceTime, he immediately deleted them all and denied all allegations. Sometimes I wish I could have confronted him about it in real life and caught him red-handed. 

    I lost trust in him that day and broke up. He said, and I quote, “So things get hard and you’re leaving?” The “hard” thing was him cheating on me and lying about it. He didn’t want to take the blame so remained clueless. But my heart was already in the wrong place, and we got back together two weeks later, only to get into the same cycle of anger and fighting. He would demand attention every night by saying, “I haven’t eaten anything today…do you even care about me?” or “Your boyfriend needs you and you’re being a terrible girlfriend for not prioritizing him.” Hell, he got mad whenever I called a celebrity good-looking;  I couldn’t say that because it was “disrespectful” to him.

     I know now I was overcompensating for my loneliness by being with him. I didn’t know any better when I was with him and I thought that relationships are supposed to be tough, that we are supposed to compromise and fight and argue for love. 

     My definition of love has, since the breakup, changed 100-fold. As I write this, it has been less than a month of no contact from him, but now I am realizing I am happy without him in my life. 

     We accept the love we think we deserve. Growing up, I never saw my mom ask my dad for more than what he gave her. He used to make fun of her with his friends, didn’t respect her high position at work, and never helped with household chores. The urge of so many women to set the bar to where their dad, brother, or other male figure is, is often problematic because that bar is too low. 

     Once my boyfriend “got” me, he took me for granted and controlled me every time I wanted to do something. Manipulation was his tool, his weapon to get something from me, whether emotionally or sexually. He mentally abused me until I gave up trying, and even when I did break up, he called me a “heartless bitch” and said that I gave up too easily on us. His words cut deeper than a knife ever could—he made me question my humanity and wonder if I was really overreacting or feeling more emotions than I should. But I wasn’t feeling too much and I know it now.