The Relationship (part 2)

And we’re back.

Thanks for dealing with that awesome cliffhanger just to find out the truth about my ex-boyfriend. Let’s do this.

Tom (he’s still Tom) and I dated for about six months. And here’s the kicker about our relationship: it was good!

That’s right, we had a good relationship.

We went on regular dates, whether it was a movie or walking around city centre or just staying at home eating potato salad, studying. Tom came with me to Edinburgh to see kitties and I went with him to the various shoppes of Glasgow (since he liked to stay in town). I helped him with his strict family issues and a strained wrist from writing too much. He helped me with my mental disorders and a nerve-damaged knee. Tom supported my passions and interests of theatre, drag, YouTube, and gothic themes. I supported his passions and interests of {his major}, soccer, anime, and Dwayne Johnson.

What about arguments? Every couple has those, right? Our only big argument was about me going to London without him. And that’s because I didn’t even tell him (whoops). That argument was resolved quickly. Oh, and we did argue about our favorite animes. (No, Bleach is not the best, I don’t care what you say, Tom. “Better than Ouran.” Are you ready to fight for those words?!)

Here’s where it goes downhill.

Six months into dating, Tom discusses a fear of his: what happens at the end of the school term? He had another year, but after that he was planning on staying in Scotland, or maybe going to England. I was going back to the States. As we talked about our personal plans, Tom asked about my thoughts on marriage.

Hesitation.

Was he proposing?

What are you saying, Tom? “Do you think you would want to marry me?” I was quiet. And, honestly, I was scared. Not of Tom. Not that I didn’t love Tom (I did love him). I was scared because there was an intuitive thing inside my heart and soul that said NO. I should not marry Tom. At least now. Right? I’m gonna be honest, I’m not sure… “Okay. You don’t need to answer today.” But what about tomorrow?!

The next week was a wave of emotion. Classes were ending soon, my internship was taking a lot of energy, and I had an internal battle over love and self.

On that fateful day, though, the battle was won. I was meeting Tom at the coffee shoppe we first met in. It was our place. Right before I turned the corner, my phone went off with a text from classmate (and savior, honestly) Aisha. As I was checking my phone, I overheard Tom! He was chatting with two of his mates (one was his roommate). As I was answering Aisha back, this is what I heard:

  • “How serious are you really getting with her?”
  • “Pretty serious. She’s cool.”
  • “Man, how can you be with someone so fat and ugly?”

My heart skipped. I listened on in secrecy.

  • “Your mom will kick your ass when she finds out you’re dating a disgrace.”
  • “Mom just wants a daughter-in-law anyway; I don’t think she’d care what she looks like.”
  • “She will if it breeds ugly grandkids.”
  • “I don’t plan on having kids with her anyway.”
  • “Doesn’t your mom expect her to come visit soon?”
  • “Yeah, I haven’t asked Alexandra yet. Maybe bring her down over the summer, but I think that if I avoid my mom for long enough, she’ll forget.”
  • “Another chance for grandkids? She won’t forget.”
  • “I could hope.”
  • “What made you go out with her for so long?”
  • “I’ve told you already: she’s cool. Yeah, she’s not good to look at, but she’s cool.”
  • “Is it worth it?”
  • “Man, you know they only get fatter, right? She’ll be the size of your flat!”
  • “I’m hoping to go blind before that happens.”
  • “Blinded before you get crushed to death when you finally fuck her?”

Enough was enough. I turned the corner and faced my three demons.

Silence.

Tom was stunned to see me there (almost half an hour early), but he knew better than to try to back track his words or his friends’ words. I simply stared him in the eye. He had very giving hazel eyes. They were always supporting his truths or giving away his lies. I guess I never really paid attention until that moment. Unfortunately, he truly believed what he was saying. And with that acknowledgement, I simply said goodbye, and I walked home.

I was a mix of emotions. I was sad for the end of a ‘great’ relationship. I was angry at his ‘opinion’ of me. I was happy that things didn’t get too serious between us. I was disappointed in myself for falling for a shitty guy. Again. I was anxious about the future of me. I was irritated that he lied to me about keeping a relationship secret from his family. I was confused, embarrassed, depressed, annoyed. And once I felt all these feelings, I became an emotionless husk. My internship was over. IRP time. So much alone time…

During my first few days of breakup craziness, I stopped taking my medication, I stopped eating, I booked a trip to France, and I deleted every photo and message I had of/from him on my phone.

Tom did send me one last note. It was handwritten and shoved with the rest of our mail. He was completely honest that, while he loved how smart and odd I was, he did find me unattractive. Ugly and fat. He said I deserved someone who found me attractive and loved my personality. And it was not me. I tore up that note and threw it out my fourth story window.

Nothing made sense to me anymore. Men are supposed to be physically attracted first, right? How could he date someone he thought was ugly for six months. Half a year. I did notice he never complimented my looks, just my intellect or wit.

A couple of weeks go by. Everything is awful. My writing sucks. Trying to be social is torture. Eating 0-400 calories a day isn’t making me thinner. My meds are gathering dust. And Alix of Hesse will always have love in her life despite hardships.

I left town. I went to see kitties in Edinburgh. The orange one, named Sebastian, sat with me. He doesn’t know if I’m smart or dumb, funny or not, odd or normal. ‘Who cares what you look like, the point is, are you going to pet me?’ Of course I did. It was the first time I genuinely smiled in weeks. Who cares what I look like, the point is, am I going to live? Am I going to work hard, do what I love, have fun?

Not long after that, I went to Paris, feeling much better about myself. I did my absolute best on my IRP, I did reviews for Fringe, I did a one-woman show, and I finished graduate school.

I still have self-esteem and confidence issues, but I’ve had those long before Tom. I’m still depressed. I still feel like a whale on land. But this boy did not and will not take away my good qualities as a person.

I had to take care of myself. And it started with a broken heart.

Care for yourself, safely, no matter what others think of you.

 

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