If I keep this in a word document any longer I’ll drive myself wild.
TW:NPD, narcissistic abuse, codependency, rape
His calm and charming demeanor coupled with my aggressive conviction made the perfect ingredients for his next meal. It was such a natural role to have poor, sweet, innocent, and charming Pat being berated by the aggressive, loud, convicted bitch- but hey, at least she was hot. Little was known about what happened behind those swinging kitchen doors; my apologies wrong blog. Little was known about what happened behind closed apartment doors, the drugs, constant gas-lighting, and threats of violence.
I’ve learned a humbling lesson “what you permit is what you promote”. When we met you were friends with literally self-proclaimed rapists, yet you convinced me that they were gross and you didn’t really like them; only after I expressed my discomfort with their words and actions. I believed you because I needed to. I needed to believe that someone saw me as valuable outside of my killer tits and “strong” persona. I convinced myself that was you, but it never was. For it wasn’t until very recently I even knew you (25y/o) had somewhat of a bet going with the other (31y/o) manager to see who could fuck me (21y/o) first. You’ve been a predator since they day we met, and ended as one when you worked to convince me in order to rekindle our sex life in our marriage we needed to just “force it” and it’d come back, so you fucked me silly only to afterwards tell me you were picturing her- that you don’t see my body as sexual anymore because you weren’t “overcome with desire” every time I stepped out of the shower.
Let’s call a spade a spade. You enjoyed violating me. That’s why you would be all over me after your “city trips” when you’d see her. It wasn’t out of “guilt” as you so claimed, but because you genuinely enjoyed knowing had I been made aware I wouldn’t have consented. You claimed you lost interest in me, but in reality you didn’t have your rapist friends to describe our sex life to (or maybe you still do; there’s a reason you’re friends with the men you are). You did the same thing with your last girlfriend. Triangulating me into believing you weren’t attracted to her anymore and that wasn’t the case with me. You get hard when you deceive, removing any consent established. That’s a rapist. But you already knew that about yourself too, you just don’t care.
You attempted to make me blame myself for the fact that I wasn’t comfortable with you sexualizing me when I wasn’t consenting. You even reminisced about how when we met my sex drive was higher; we used to “wake up having sex.” Turns out that’s not a fucking thing, and you were raping me while I slept but I woke up and thought this is strange. You ended being the predator you’ve always been, as apparent in one of the last things you ever said to me, “I’m sick of always being the student with you, with her she’s the student and I’m the teacher.” You were friends with literal rapists because you are one, you’re just a little more calculating. At least I got you to admit it on tape before we parted ways.
I knew your substance use was a problem, especially when I had an issue and asked for your help. When we met I had never explored drugs, and told you they made me uneasy. 7.5 years and tens of thousands of dollars later I now see that you saw that as an innocence you could exploit. I suggested perhaps we could get sober together, to which you said just because I feel that way doesn’t mean you should stop getting to have fun. You’d try to blame my anger and that you didn’t want to deal with telling me no, which I always found odd because it’s not like you ever tried so how would you know? Truthfully, I don’t think you wanted me to be sober, because I would have caught on to your shit earlier. I should have known on the nights you were so drunk you’d bang on the second bedroom door until the jewelry knocked off trying to get into the room to yell at me. I should have known when you threatened me multiple times with the phrase “What you want me to hit you?! Is that what you want?!” while I begged and pleaded for you to just go to bed. You don’t utter a phrase like that unless you want to hit a woman, but hey the friends you had when we met bragged about doing that too. I honestly think one of the only reasons you never followed through isn’t because that would have been my hard line or that you really didn’t want to, but because all it would take would be for you to land one hit for me to snap and I would have absolutely ended you. I can hear your stupid giggle reading that last line passing it off because I’m not as strong as I pretend to be. Yet you still never tried it, so I was apparently strong enough to have you scared; be it physically or in my power to not just tell my story; shattering the brilliant narrative you’ve spent your whole life concocting, but my power in making sure my story is heard.
You also took to the tactic of using my words against me. As I became trained in crisis intervention for victims of sexual violence I would tell you about my training, only for you to later weaponized those words to tell me how I’m an abuser. I may have cussed you out when I found out you weren’t paying our health insurance, or called you out when you defended something/someone indefensible (a quality in the beginning you told me you loved about me) but my anger and venomous words were only ever in response to your inexcusable actions. That part has taken me far too long to see for you skillfully weaponized my “anger” to turn me into the big bad monster.
You did that with most everything, turned it around on me to make it my fault. If it wasn’t my “anger” it was the lies that I made you tell. I wanted to know when you left work so I could expect you home safely and plan on when I could get myself to sleep for the night since you walking in would wake up the dog. You told me that reasoning made you lie to me about how you actually went out almost every single night after work, even if it was for “just one”. Or when you would come home after “two beers” how it took an hour to get you to admit maybe they were 12% beers and you also had two shots. That asking for simple common curtesy for you to not go out on nights I needed to be up was a reason to lie to me instead of say, be considerate and not go out that night. Everything you did you’ve managed to find a way to blame me, but my generally confident and convicted demeanor made me the perfect target for that too.
“I just can’t stop hurting you, I don’t deserve you, you deserve someone better.” I spent so much time trying to console your “self-esteem” and tell you how smart, cute, and appealing you were. I was sincere when I said those things, except now I realize I was trying to convince myself. You made me compromise so many of my “standards” because you told me I was full of myself for wanting to be with someone that had any semblance of a direction in life, or even a license for that matter. Then when you took it upon yourself to con me into liking someone that didn’t exist, didn’t have a license, wasn’t enrolled in school, etc. you worked to make me feel guilty, that I was trying to change you. Let’s be clear; “The only time you ever liked yourself was when you were trying to be someone I would have liked.”
And yet the biggest gift I’ve ever received is the power I now yield within myself. To know where I need to dive into my internalized misogyny; that our relationship began when you were the older manager and I was the young new server. That it began with her (your previous relationship) still texting you while you were in my bed convincing me you never liked her, that it was fizzling out ages before I came along. Here we are full circle and that’s where it ended. With her as an even younger hostess and you as an even older server. With me texting you while you’re in her bed, convincing her that you didn’t feel the same towards me and she’s the one that makes you truly happy. You primed those around you to know that you were unhappy, that I was controlling. I remember when we first got together those around us talked about how great it was to see you happy again, that you weren’t happy with the previous girl. No matter how smart, driven, or contentious I was, I still pretended I was the exception and you’d never do that with me. Looks like internalized misogyny is one hell of a drug, someone should study it.
I never was the exception, until now.
Perhaps one day you’ll even get clean, but my doubt with that is in knowing you don’t want to. Because if you are the company you keep then the fact that not even three months ago I had to stop you from giving your childhood best friend the bumps he asked for since he had a “long drive home” doesn’t quite put you on the path for success. Or how you didn’t know the name of our vet after 2.5 years, or the price of our current rent. It’s because you don’t care or want to change. You love to play innocent and weak, telling women it’s sexy when they call you out, and that you love that about them when they put you in your place (bigger men pay for that privilege of a humiliation kink- but you knew that and resented those men). Except time passes and that desire to be called on your shit becomes something you resent, as you slowly realize you even fail at living up to your own lies. You love that others will pick up your pieces because you know just which role to play. For that I almost have to give you credit.
They say narcissists chose their victims based on who they’re most jealous of, or at least that’s one of the breakdowns in the packets they gave me at the hospital, “Victims of Narcissistic Abuse” in which I read the last 7.5 years of my life poured in those pages (even down to the rapid weight gain and loss). And honestly, I can’t fault you for that, even I’m jealous of myself sometimes. I just needed to get to the level of admitting how hard this road ahead would be; not the road of living without you, but the road to live with just me. Confronting my demons now that I’m not drowning them out with booze and blow. Since the day I kicked you out I haven’t need to take a single antacid despite usually having to eat them like candies. I haven’t had one nose bleed either despite them having had become a weekly occurrence. My body has been literally dying because of the stress I was taking on, yet I kept justifying everything because you financially supported me through school that the least I could do was take on all of the other weight it takes for a household. Even typing that out now I worked so hard to not let myself see our relationship for what it truly was; financial, emotional, and psychological abuse. But now, finally I can breathe again, and you have become nothing more than another hurdle I’ll jump in therapy; we both knew that was always your fate. I used to take solace in how there was one person in this world that knew me better than anyone, and that there was a person I knew better than anyone. I never knew you through the web of lies and manipulation. However, after all of this I can confidently say I finally know the true you better than anyone in this world has the misfortune of knowing.
I remember reading a while back that anything they’d do with you they’d do to you. I recall reconsidering the circumstances in which we had met, and how I believed these women and that would likely be my fate; despite your constant reassurance that “this was different, I was different”.
It may have been many years until the day finally came, but whether it’s in 10 months or 10 years, when you realize you were no exception either- you have my number Katie.
P.S. I’m glad I landed that punch, even if you tried to tell me it wasn’t a good one.