When the roller coaster is someone else’s emotions

Once upon a time I dated a very handsome man with low self esteem. We looked kinda like hipster Barbie and Ken- So we thought we were probably a perfect match…right?

His problems came from a myriad of places, mostly family and religious things that were completely unsolvable (No amount of hugs can fix Mormonism) and frequently reared their heads after 3 beers.

I liked him very berry dairy much and when he felt ‘up’ we had a great time. Completely smitten from the first time we locked eyes across the campus on an architecture field trip at IIT. I felt like I was in a Disney Movie- like a golden light had shown through my heart and I could float around the room and through the architecture. We fell asleep on each other’s shoulders on the way home and when we woke up he invited me to a party. I never made it, so sadly, we dated other people for a few months before finally going out together.

Even then I should have known he had bad self esteem. He had a huge, huge crush on me (like grin like an idiot when I got on the elevator and stand next to me as much as possible) and yet asked me out in the worst possible middle school way- over Facebook with a mean little message. Still, I went out with him. We spent all our time together that summer. It was some of the most memorable times of my life; dance parties, drugs, art, and sex.

But it was perhaps a golden, hype-beast colored cage. When he felt down, it was bad news bears. Screaming matches about insecurities, perceived slights, epic days of consoling him over very basic hurdles like having a job. We drank and smoked a lot in a dark room. All my plans crumbled. And then suddenly I wasn’t good enough, nor were my friends. I grew to resent him; other men and women made it clear they felt bad for me when he would throw tantrums. My previous long term relationship of 3 years had exactly 7 fights- I was ill equipped to deal with someone emotional and illogical and smart. This daily BS was ruining my semester, my artwork got all raggedy, and everything stunk like old cigarettes because he was always smoking even though he didn’t have any money.

Still, I thought it could work. We made plans to move in together (thank Glob that didn’t happen). I became more and more nervous; his insecurities heightened my own. I stopped eating at some point and dropped 10 pounds.

As the relationship progressed, the cage crumpled in, and I suddenly had rules about whom I could hang out with, talk to, etc. His apartment was walking on eggshells, and then my whole life was eggshells that he smashed. As quickly as it started, the relationship burnt out as the atmosphere of the real world hit.

Eventually he got tired of making me cry and feeling bad about acting badly. I guess I didn’t know it was boring to have the person you abuse give up easily.

He isn’t a bad person, but he gets off on feeling bad and making others feel bad (looking at you Scorpios out there). That’s the worst part about insecurity. It makes everything suffer, like a grey smear over the entire world. His insecurity was projected outwards through cruel jokes, intense competition, and control of other people. Many other people’s is projected inwards; they hurt themselves through bad self talk, self harming, self defeat, or eating disorders.

It took me awhile to work that out. I didn’t see it at first, I saw the best of someone. When I walked away I sometimes felt like I made it all up because not a whole lot of good remained.

A few years ago I found a box of letters we wrote in these emotional swings. There was everything raw; ups and downs were documented in tear drops on paper, in a huge stack of apologies for minutiae. I felt like they should be bloody they were so painful.

I burned all of them, even the funny ones I almost kept. I remembered how he had been jealous of other letters I had from friends and family in a box in my room. Even though he had never seen them he hated them, while not realizing most of them were for him.

The love of a man who couldn’t love himself isn’t worth remembering.