Things to know about a toxic love in a relationship
He was perfect. Tall, dark, handsome, and thirteen years older than me (which in my eyes made him incredibly irresistible).
I walked into the local bar one night with a few close friends and he was standing in the corner by the bar. I didn’t notice him until my friend pointed him out. “That guy’s staring at you.” I turned to look at him and met his gaze with an indifferent controlled stare. He was standing with a group of girls that I immeditely pegged as annoying. I turned my back to him. “So, let him stare”. Almost as fast as I blurted those words out of my mouth he had made his way over to me. “Can I buy you a shot?” I quickly glared at him, raised the full bottle of beer in my hand, and replied with a swift “No”.
He smiled at me and I almost melted right on that filthy bar room floor. I couldn’t help but to smile back. He turned to walk away and before I could control myself my hand grabbed his arm. “Ok, one drink.”
One drink turned into three days of incredible sex in his hotel room. He was in town on business. I forgot to ask what kind of business, it really didn’t matter to me. He was from Los Angeles and when he left to return home, I didn’t think twice about it.
I was dating four guys at that time. I wasn’t sleeping with any of them. I had no interest in them other than the fact that they were tripping over themselves to make me happy. They were all referred to as specific numbers by my friends who asked for details on a regular basis. “Did you go out with number two last night?” I guess I could have been classified as a player. I was, however, just collecting men for entertainment purposes. I have never tried to spy on boyfriends phone during the relationships. It was an entertainment factor for me. I had never been serious in the relationship with ever of my boyfriends.
“So, is this new guy going to be number five?” He called me everyday. He wanted to know about me, my life, he made me forget about my “collection.” Most of all, I was interested in what he had to say. I found myself daydreaming about him and checking my phone constantly throughout the day just to see if he had called. I decided to give up collecting boys and make Mr. Hollywood my primary focus.
Most of our relationship was over the phone. Mr. Hollywood was a big shot that was often hanging out with the rockstars who’s cds I owned. We would make plans to see each other and then he’d cancel last minute because he had to fly out of town for work. “Oh, you’re going to be with (insert one of my favorite bands here) this weekend. Allright, we’ll see each other some other time”. That happened a lot…and just when I’d had enough and busted out with the “F*@% you, I’m not doing this anymore” he’d blurt out a couple of I miss you’s mixed in with a few perverted one liners that made me blush. I’m a sucker for dirty boys.
We did see each other quite a few times. We averaged once every couple of months. We’d have great sex in swanky hotels. We’d also drink until we couldn’t stand up and start a few bar room brawls like the filthy punk rockers that we both were. I however, didn’t care about what other people thought of me. Now that I think back on it, I’m pretty sure that’s why he liked me so much.
When I’d go back home after our little weekend getaways, his phone calls would become more scarce. I’d get black out drunk and call him in the middle of the night and cuss out his answering machine on a regular basis. He knew just how to push my buttons and he certainly liked doing it.
I don’t know exactly when it happened, but after a while he had molded me into his little puppet without me even knowing it. When I was with him my hair had to be perfect, makeup perfect, dressed a certain way, and my manners were outstanding. When we walked into a room together I was supposed to be the center of attention. I sat at his side like a good girl and smiled sweetly while he ordered me drinks that I hated. I learned quickly not to protest. Bartenders and random people would often buy us drinks because we were “the best looking couple in the room.” I think part of me liked this little game that we played..and part of me was convinced that I needed his attention to survive.