In Need of Relationship Advice

During my freshman year in college a few years ago I thought I met this perfect guy. He was charismatic, affectionate, loved to give me compliments ... yadda yadda ... “Mr. Perfect” mmm hmm …

I was eighteen turning nineteen at the time and thought good things were falling into place: great guy, going to school, and doing well. I thought that I could really have a future with this man.

Even though at first things seemed to be going well that little voice in the back of my head began poking me and later on stabbing, but me being me, I just ignored it. My intuition has never failed me before, but neither has my hard-headedness. Something told me if I stayed, then there would be a storm coming. (I should have listened then.)

Have you ever met that person that knows exactly what they are doing? The wannabe Casanova, if you will. The man that practices people. A man who thinks he is steps ahead of everyone else, but can’t even tie his own shoe. Well I’ve met him. Little did I know that I was worked over, but I digress.

Impervious to my knowledge, did I realize that I was dealing with an uneducated (high school drop out), abusive, and psychotic individual. He was someone who was shunned by his family, and later on, some friends because they couldn’t deal with his manic behavior.

Later on I see a different person from the man I met a couple of months before. I see someone who abuses alcohol, people, and himself. When we first met, he wanted to rush into the relationship so quickly. I see someone who crumbles under society because of the situations he puts himself in but feels the need to blame others—someone who cannot handle life and blames others for it, mostly me. At this time I wanted to leave this relationship, but I would be a horrible person if I did. He quits his job while not being able to find another one, and then later on can’t pay his bills. I start to notice his original shell peeling away. Someone who had goals, ambitions, going somewhere, to someone who can barely get out of bed and do anything with his day if it doesn’t involve a forty-ounce in his hand.