Fast-forward to this past Wednesday. Adam and I organize a party for some of our friends that are graduating and because he’s leaving Saturday to spend the summer working in California. Of course, Karen has to come. Everyone has a few drinks except me (I don’t drink at the moment) and everyone is very laid-back.
I’m enjoying the time I get to spend with everyone and the time I get to spend with Adam, despite Karen’s presence. However, as the evening goes on, I notice that Adam and Karen are missing. I check inside, I check on the patio in back, I check by the cars, but I don’t see them. I go inside and decide to knock on the bathroom door. Adam gives the, “just a second,” and I ask him if he’s seen Karen. He tells me to check all the places I’ve already checked. I tell him she’s not there. I hear him fasten his belt buckle. I hear some movement. I hear the water from the sink and then he opens the door. Seeing me standing there, he quickly stops himself from opening the door all the way. Unfortunately for him, I can seen through the crack by the hinges that Karen is in there with him. He asks me if I have a towel. I tell him that there are some on the shelf right over the toilet. Oh, and there’s one hanging on the wall right behind Karen. He closes the door. There’s silence. I wait.
Finally he comes out. Karen stays in the bathroom. I proceed to tear him apart. “You’re un-f’ing-believable,” was my opening line. “This is my house. Not yours, not hers. How dare you.” He responds with, “My bad,” which only angers me more. I should also probably tell you that I have a pretty bad temper. I can get violent if I stay mad long enough. He says that he shouldn’t have done that, it was inappropriate. He tries to give me a hug and I tell him that I don’t want him to touch me. Here’s where I start to get violent. He gives me a puppy dog face, which almost always snaps me out of it. I was so angry that I actually didn’t have anything to say to him, I just stood there and stared at him and that stupid puppy dog face. I took the towel he was still holding and threw it in his face. I slam my fist against the wall and then the bathroom door. My hand still hurts. Then the excuses started. “She’s probably throwing up in there,” “she’s really messed up,” “she’s had way too much to drink.” “So it’s all her fault?” I ask. Wait, no, it’s not. You were in there too. You went along with it. My favorite part: she tries to sneak out of the bathroom. Adam sees her and says, “See that’s embarrassment.” I said, “She damn well should be embarrassed. Who the f’ does she think she is?” Finally Adam is quiet. Now here is a part I’m not to proud of. As strong of a person that I think I am, the puppy dog faced worked. I finally gave into a hug, and decided that the new a’hole I had ripped him was enough of a punishment. Guess I’m not so strong. I resolve that the next day I will talk to him civilly and explain to him how disrespected and hurt I was by his actions. That doesn’t happen, he gets caught up in something. Friday he’s spending the day with Karen. Can’t talk.
Now it’s to Saturday, the day he’s leaving. We made plans to see each other one more time before he left. I get a text this morning, saying that he can’t make it. He’s being forced to spend some more time with his family before he leaves. I get really upset. I wanted to see him before he left! He promised he’d call me from the airport. I say something to the effect of: I never ask anything of you, only this, and you can’t even do this for me. A few minutes later, I decide that my reaction was unfair, it’s his family after all. I apologize. He says again he’ll call me when he’s waiting to board. I wait, but I never get the call. I am however, the recipient of a heart-felt mass text saying that he’ll see everyone soon, enjoy our summers.
I’m so incredibly hurt at this point. I’m even thinking about cancelling my plans to go to California to visit him in July, and the plans we have to go to India next winter. You know what’s sad? I’ll probably just let it go. I’m still grasping to that image of the house in suburbia with a white picket fence, 2.5 kids and a golden-lab. I’ll still go visit him in California, if the invitation still stands, and I’ll still be whatever it is that I am to him. I know this even though I’m aware of all the poison he’s injected into my life. He’s managed to sabotage every relationship I tried to start in the past few months. He’s broken down my confidence, and reduced me to the sniffling high-school girl, striving for acceptance.
I wish I had a moral to this story to share with everyone, but this story is still being told. The best I can do for you is this:
Don’t make my mistakes. If you feel a toxic relationship forming, get out now. Don’t wait until you are so far in, like me, that you can’t, or don’t want to, dig your way out again. Learn from my (bad) example.