Sitting there next to him on the couch as he mutes the TV and wraps me up in what feels all too convincingly like love, I can feel the tears start to well up and one by one fallout from the ledge of my lids and stream down my cheeks.
“Guys won’t wait around forever. They need physical touch to feel wanted and loved and if you don’t give it to them, they’ll go find it somewhere else. That’s just the way it is.” he tells me… again.
“Well, I don’t want to do that.” I manage between irregular breaths.
He pulls me in close and I rest my head on his chest. It takes everything in me to keep from hyperventilating. I’m trying to slow my breathing and focus on the silent TV so I’ll stop crying, but I keep finding myself getting more and more worked up as he continues to explain how no guy will ever really be interested in me until I give it up.
What am I supposed to do? Was everything my boyfriend said to me a lie. When he made me feel like I was special and told me he loves me, was that all a lie too? Do I really have to accept that no one will ever stay if I don’t give it up and when someone does stay it’s just because I did?
As the thoughts and questions flood my mind… I realize I’m in full on sobbing mode. I’m so upset I can’t even begin to calm myself.
His shirt is soaked with my tears.
“If you’re this upset… you know what you can do to fix it…” He whispers.
I was a freshman in high school when I had this conversation with my stepdad at the time. All of 14 years old.
This man had raised me since I was nine. He claimed to think of me and love me as his own daughter. There were even moments I considered calling him Dad. He gave me away on my wedding day… and left my family 10 months later.
Looking back on my childhood with him, I remember multiple conversations similar to this. I was always told “men are pigs” … but, essentially oblige or end up alone. He would discuss his and my mom’s relationship issues with me in depth, to the point where, looking back, I was put in a position where I was more so his equal than his child.
He was someone who based a person’s worth solely on their accomplishments. He had an uncanny way of making everyone around him feel less-than, but he always knew just what to say to convince you it was okay, because he’d help you get to his level if you just did what he said. He’s one of the greatest manipulators I’ve ever known, someone who appears humble, but is incredibly full of himself and self-centered.
I spent the majority of my childhood walking on eggshells trying to keep the peace under this man’s roof… because I was raised by a narcissistic alcoholic.
And, this situation is just one of the many ways he attempted to ruin my self-worth, wreck my confidence, and essentially break me before I even had the chance to decide what kind of woman I wanted to be.
Luckily for me, he left. Luckily for me, I’m stronger. Luckily for me, I know exactly what I’m worth… and I’m worth loving. I’m worth more than my looks and my body. And I know better than to believe anyone worth having would ever choose to leave.