I’ve been avoiding discussing my past romantic relationships because it does not read pretty and it makes me look like a pathetic, sad desperado with piss poor taste. I don’t want to see myself that way, but maybe it is time I womaned up to my past. Being like I am is getting me nowhere.
My last boyfriend was 4 years ago. A Chilean guy I knew from the gym. He was attentive, unusual and, at first, fun. Before too long, I was being kicked in the stomach for what he thought was sighing after a man seated at a restaurant. Then it degraded into him bashing me at 1am when we went camping. I was terrified of him. He threatened my family if I went to the police. My kids had very little to do with him.
I was nothing to him, obviously. It ended with me swallowing a LOT of panadols and downing them with 1lt vodka and a bottle of Shiraz. He hit my head on the concrete to stop me. I was bloodied and bruised for 10 days after. Miraculously, I found organ memory and my body just expelled the lot. My liver was having no more toxicity, it seemed! I left his house the next morning and left it at that.
I was contacted 18 mths ago by a woman my age asking I go to court as a witness. Apparently she ended up charging this guy with assault. No thanks. She had not bothered with me in the time it was good, so don’t bother when a scape goat is needed.
My ex before that was the kids’ dad. I think I was the strange Western trophy wife. But he hated me. I wasn’t pretty enough, feminine enough, wealthy enough, loving enough and didn’t suppress my independence enough. He got annoyed at me enough to want to hit me. I had enough and demanded he leave. I was tired of contorting myself into what he wanted. Better he go and find what he wanted – which he never has… Just ended up with more women who disappointed him.
I never understand why men want to hit me, scream at me, argue with me, tell me I am never (fill the gap) enough. Why be with me at all and tell me they want a future with me, only to keep telling me how deficient I am.
I envy women who get told they are beautiful, have partners who do not hurt them verbally and/or physically, are loved for who they are and have a partner who wants to invest in them. It breaks my heart into shattered pieces to know some women do not value the partners they have, over some pathetic transgression or minor flaw.
My first boyfriend constantly lied, got me pregnant, refused to help in any way during the abortion and was a down right arsehole. I met up with his sister 3 years ago. She felt ashamed to tell me he had become an arrogant banker who abused everyone. So, it wasn’t just me…
My ex husband was fun; so much like a brother. We had some brilliant times, but sex was non existent. We just didn’t find each other attractive sexually. Then, I found child pornography on his PC. That ended quickly.
My second boyfriend was Italian. He came from a loving family. His parents despised me. I was not everything enough. It was not hard to walk away. A sweet guy, but never defended me at all. It was definitely more effort from my side than his. He never understood me, though he was a deeply introverted graphic designer by day, bass player by night.
Between these five, I’ve had flings. Always with guys who were attached, unavailable or nothing more than a passing curiosity.
I suppose I am seeking male approval all the time. Respect, admiration, care, consideration, kindness, perhaps even love from one. To prove to myself there is nothing inherently wrong with me. Surely not all men hate me and want to hurt me for me being me…? Or do they?
I am too scared to find out. As much as I would love to share intimacy with a male, I am terrified I will be treated to more disdain, hatred and dislike. It seems too risky and my mind cannot take more of being told how lacking I am.
I don’t want more sexual encounters. I’m not sure I even know what healthy relationships look like, sound like, feel like. But it is the only sort I could ever consider any more. I sure as heck do not need a man, though.
It bamboozles my mind to know all sorts of people find partners. Yet I am left on the shelf, never picked. I had to pursue all these men.
It is easier to close my mind, heart and body off to it all. No more hurt, no more degrading comments, no more burst heart.
See? It isn’t the story of a lovely woman. It is a painfully thorny tale, embarrassing and full of shame. I have kept bits out because they would make this post about 3000 word long, and I cannot add to my own heavy heart.
I really crave male friendships. Platonic mateships. Why is it so hard?