I guess it's a little late writing about this relationship I've had, as it's been close to four months since it ended, but I really needed to relate my story. I've been blaming myself for everything coming to ruin for months now, and it's driving me insane. Maybe people will tell me in this thread that I'm still to blame, and I know I've been 'blamed' by my significant other.
We'd been together for five years, and engaged for about one year. We ended up moving in together finally on the fifth year. The relationships had had it's problems. For the first three years, she had a lot of emotional problems, and they were really taxing on our relationship. She'd always call me up on the phone, wanting to talk, and if I ever got coarse or mean over the phone it would lead to all sorts of mini-drama. Still, I never really minded it, and I always apologized if I was being too harsh or if I wasn't very nice on the phone. The phone was always the biggest problem because she always always insisted on talking, and talking for long periods of time, or calling me multiple times during the night. I would take care of her as best I could, but I'm no saint or savior. She was always depressed, sometimes she would hurt herself with drugs, other times she would talk about wanting to die. I guess that was the first two and a half years of our relationship.
Still, I never really let that stop me from loving her or wanting to be with her. It tired me out sometimes because it was long-distance (sorta). I thought she was beautiful, I wanted to marry her. Again, not everything is her fault, sometimes I wasn't the greatest guy known to man. I would do some pretty stupid things, or say pretty stupid things. I guess that's in every relationship though that's serious. Essentially, I never cheated, hung out with other girls, or abused her.
Somewhere along year three or so, I ended up having enough of the emotional roller-coasters, so I quickly called her one day and sprung a month long break on her. I told her that I was really tired emotionally, that I just needed some breathing space. I was sick of the phone, I was tired of the drama. I just needed time alone. No phone calls for a month. We were going to be in school anyways, so the idea of no "physical" contact for a month is pretty void. It was a given from the start. I just wanted to finish my time at school that month, then we could get back together. From her side, I know this devestated her, and there's not a day that goes by that I don't feel bad about it, but at the time it seemed like a good idea. So I just did it.
But I guess it brings me to the other issue. My family. I did what I did because my mother told me to do it. That doesn't mean it's her fault. I made the choice. I listened to her, deciding that indeed the relationship was too one-sided, so I should take a break to recover some of my energy. I had no desire to leave her. It never crossed my mind. I even told her as much. I told her, "You can leave if you wish, but I'm telling you I have no desire to leave you. I love you very much. I won't leave you, but I understand if this break is too much for you."
At least I think I said that.
Anyway, after the month was over, she still had called me sporadically, I flipped out once or twice, but generally still told her the same thing... that I was sorry for yelling, that I loved her, and that I just need time alone. We got back together, I still apologized for the lost time, but basically we got back into the relationship swing of things. She stayed with me, and I was glad that she did.
But over time I guess I was becoming less and less lovey dovey. In the beginning, I would always call her beautiful, shower attention on her (though let's get serious, it's not like I took her out places or anything like that, I'm a dork and I don't really do that much in the social life). I never had a problem with her weight that much (she was not stick thin or physically fit). I loved her for who she was.
Come around to the fourth year or so, and I guess I started taking issue. She had put on some weight. Or actually, her weight changed a lot. I guess she had problems keeping it under control because of things. Again, right now, I understand that it's pretty damn shallow to take issue with such things, but at the time I guess it started getting to me. I wasn't as responsive to her. Sometimes I wasn't in the mood for love. I wouldn't say, "You're too fat." I'd just say I wasn't in the mood. In some ways I guess I was starving her out. I was much less intimate than I was before. Actually, it was long time before we really became super intimate, as I was and I guess still am kind of prudish. But that's another story not worth hearing.
So anyway, yeah. She wanted to get engaged, as I had been spending so many times telling her that I was serious and wanted to marry her. She said that I needed to give her a ring by Christmas. I agreed, though I knew I needed time to talk to my parents about getting stuff in order, but still I wanted to make her happy. I knew she had issues with it, and I understood. So I did. I wasn't really romantic about it though, as I didn't have time, I felt rushed, and I didn't know the first thing about buying a ring. So I took her with me and had her help. It was shameful and embarassing, but I was glad she came anyway. I just wanted help, I wasn't trying to be "weak." I'm not into the hoopla and ceremony of the thing. I felt my words, shared expressions, and feelings were enough.
So we were engaged, a year of time goes by. I guess I was being less intimate, and at times I would just keep pressuring her about her weight, and working out. I work out and keep myself in pretty good shape. But as I look back, I feel downright guilty. It's not like we never slept together, but I was practically subtly giving her the "you've put on a lot of weight, need to slim down" hints. It was terrible. I can't imagine how badly I ripped her self-esteem apart. Still, she tolerated me, went to her rock concerts, had fun, and I never complained. She was there for me.
Then we moved in together. Sometimes I'd still tease her about this thing. At one point, she finally confronted me again and told me that the weight thing was tearing her apart. She cried. I admitted right then and there, after being stubborn during the talk for a while, that I was wrong, and that I was truly sorry. I still am. I knew I was being a total dick. She wanted more, and I told her I would give her more. It wasn't a lot, but again that wasn't always because of just her weight. I'm not really that "active."
So the months go by. I was going to school, she was going to school, we lived together in an apartment with her two friends. We shared a room. She worked downstairs though, and I played my video games all day, didn't have a job, but did my grad school work just fine. Sometimes I'd opt to just play games instead of help around the house. I knew I was doing wrong at times, and she told me about it. I gave her some grief. The first half wasn't so bad. The second half she started going out places, and wanted me to come ot her rock concerts. I don't like indie rock bands. The first one I saw I was kind of mean and gruff about the whole event. I regret being that way. The other two opportunities I just turned down. I didn't want to go out. That pissed her off, because I would tell her that I'd go, but then I wouldn't. The last time, it was over the phone. I had been going to work to make some money over the school break, and she called asking me where I was. I said I wasn't in the mood for this concert. I was tired, and I was being distant. I was kind of upset because I felt like she was busy hanging out with her friends so much, though clearly I could have just gone and hung out with them. But I didn't want to.
I got mad, told her I hate her music, yada yada, and that led to us hanging up. I get back from break, see her, I'm pissed, she's pissed, she talks to me at night. We kind of fight about me being a liar, never going out, and just generally being mean. I get mad saying I shouldn't have to go out to concerts all the time, I know I do wrong, but I'm always there when it counts. But, towards the end I just give up. I tell her I'm wrong, I should stop breaking promises, and that I hate making her sad.
...
That's the intro to the story that's too long. Here's the recent events. After apologizing and moving to hug her, she tells me there's something else. She says, "I don't think I love you anymore." I'm distraught, and I say outloud that I've been too much on her. I've ripped her apart or something. So I'm sitting there not sure what to do. She says she should kiss me to see if it's true. I agree. We kiss, I try, but she says no, she doesn't. Then walks out of the room, leaving the ring. I call my parents to say what happened, and then go to sleep.
She wakes me up a couple hours later, in the middle of the night, saying she made a mistake. I plead first, saying, "don't come back unless you really want to. Please, just make sure you know what you're saying." I don't yell. At this point I'm desperate. She says she loves me, we go to bed, yada yada. Four hours later, we wake up in the morning. She looks sad. I look at her and say, "What's wrong." She doesn't love me. She leaves again. I'm distraught. I call my parents again. I decide I'm upset now, so I'll just move out.
A few days go buy, and I'm cleaning up my stuff. She comes back agian. She's been distraught too over it, says she's sorry, let's work this out. I eventually say, "okay." We are good, I guess, for about a week. At some point, we wake up in the morning, she asks me what's wrong with me, I say I'm still sad. She says when I'm going to get over it. At some point it's revealed to me that she doesn't trust me. I get kind of mad, vehemently declaring that if she doesn't trust me, she should leave me. I guess I kind of pushed her away from me. She eventually agrees, and mind you, this is really early in the morning, to leave. I feel guilty ever since about that day.
So weeks go by, and I'm not really talking to her. I never say bad things about her. I still never have. I never told her, "oh, you didn't treat me right this time or that." Nor did I tell my friends about how "bad she is." I just was mad that she left, although at the time I wanted her to leave because I was tired of just being dismissed. But now I was kind of depressed. Anyway, she comes up the stairs one night, and blasts me for not being her friend enough during this time. She's been crying on my shoulder for a while before this, wanting me to comfort her for leaving me. And so I did. But this time, she tells me that her friends told her that I deserve this. That I'm just a mean prick. She says this with a straight face. I of course explode, obscenities and the whole like.
She comes back a third time now. Wants to get back together, she apologizes and she's crying. I look her straight in the eyes and say no. This is the moment that burns in my head every day. Why in the world did I say no!? I have no idea. Respect myself? That's what I get told by the parents every day. See, I wouldn't have said "no" unless I was told to. And that's what i was told to do. To just let the relationship die. I was vehement about reconciliation. I wanted to talk. At one point when we were back together, I even talked to her about our way of arguing. I said I didn't like it because it was just corrosive. We needed to talk, not turn things into battles. I gave her examples of things I just keep to myself, because I knew they were petty and not worth fighting over. She thought I was just tearing her down, even though I paused all the time to say it had nothing to do about her as a person. I even asked her if she had anything to say or add because I talk to much. Nothing was said.
Anyway, this third time I say no. I say no because she was blaming me constantly for the whole relationship, blaming me for being a liar, and not trusting me to fix it. In fact, she was hoping I'd fix myself completely, and the whole relationship would be fixed. As if there was no problem on her side.
But I guess there was no problems on her side. In fact, I can't really remember what she was doing wrong. I was being a prick, playing video games over hanging out with her, had no job, just went to school, and didn't get intimate with her a lot, and was occasionally teasing her about her body image. She was working hard in grad school, holding two jobs, was in the big sister program, and just trying to graduate. I was doing jack diddly squat. And yet, throughout all of this, my parental advice over the phone was, "Leave her, it's not worth it. She's using you." I would tell them, "But I did so many things wrong." And they'd say, "All relationships have these problems."
Really? I don't think any girl would stick around for me after all that. And to this day I really dont' blame her for leaving. But I got torn apart after that third time. Her publicaly wasted me. Called me a crappy boyfriend to our neighbors. Had a good time drinking and flirting right in front of me with them. Went to rock concerts, told her friends how bad I was, told me how they all threatened to burn my pictures. Got her other "big" (and I mean no offense here) friend to hate me because of how much I had spent doting on her weight. So basically, I became the plague.
And to this day, she thinks the relationship fell apart because:
A) I was mean.
B) I wasn't willing to talk
C) I don't listen.
So basically, I suck, and I ruined everything. She hates seeing me, she hated seeing me, she cried all the time, did her hard work, then went on to bigger and better people i guess. I even wrote a letter once saying I didn't deserve her during this time. I made it plain as day that I was sad this all happened, and that I regretted being apart from her. Still, she felt justified and that I was just a young punk.
Anyway, that's the end of my story. She moved out, got a new apartment, new career job, new grad school, gets the men she wants, and has a great time. Meanwhile, all I've got left to cling to is this "dignity" crap that my parents kept telling me to hold on to. They told me I was being controlled, and that I made the right choice based on that.
But I wake up everyday not believing it. I still miss her and love her deeply. I hold nothing against her. I feel like I just crapped on everything. If I didn't follow the advice on the phone, I'd be fine, right?
Basically, I don't even know the truth of the story anymore. I don't know what happened. Sometimes I just want to scream at the parents because I feel like I got tricked or fed bad advice. I know it's just over and that I just have to move on, but I can't help feeling like I got told to chop off my own arm, and I did it, and all I do now is regret everything, despite how good my life is regardless of all this. It's torture.
There, the end. Sorry for the long post. Respond at your own peril.
by Orange Crush on Tue Jul 05, 2005 11:10 pm 
