Since I began blogging last March I have met a lot of wonderful people. Talented and versatile writers posting about their experiences.
Unfortunately, a recurring theme seems to be accounts of relationships with psychopath partners who should be behind bars.
Some accounts are told with humor while others with a very serious and dire tone. Regardless of how they are told, the common theme is:
These posts have reminded me of an experience I had many years ago.
I had broken up with my boyfriend and wanted to date other guys. After all, working downtown Boston was the prime place to meet new people. I lived at home (with my parents) about 45 minutes away by train from downtown and commuted every day.
I met him at my train stop. He lived in the same town and was a fellow commuter. He looked handsome in a suit even though he was not really my type. He was a bit shy yet had a cockiness about him.
He sat next to me on the train and we began to learn about each other. He also lived at home and worked in securities for a Boston firm. A graduate of Babson College with a business degree, living with his mother after his parents divorced.
There was something about him. Completely opposite of my ex boyfriend. This guy seemed mysterious and had a “bad-boy” appeal to him that intrigued me. He drove a sports car, smoked pot and was edgy.
Before agreeing to date him, I warned him that I had recently broken up with my boyfriend and that I did not want anything serious.
Michael’s obsession with me did not take long to surface. At a Boston nightclub he almost got into a fight with a guy who commented on my braces (which I had gotten after college.) He had also began telling me what outfits he liked on me and which ones I should not wear.
One day while dropping me off at my house after our date, I noticed that my ex’s car was parked in front of my house. My ex had made it clear that he was not going to give up on us and continued to call me and visit while I dated Michael. I still loved him but after our six-year relationship, I was excited to meet other guys.
Michael, after I told him that my boyfriend was in the driveway, immediately got out of the car and was ready to “smash my ex boyfriend’s head in” . I somehow managed to stop him and no one got hurt.
For reasons I still don’t understand, I continued to go out with Michael. I was attracted to the thrill and challenge of being with Michael. Regardless of the fact that he tried to force me to do drugs with him while at his mother’s home, he drove recklessly wherever we went and needed to know where I was at all times.
A mutual friend who attended Babson with Michael warned me that he was bad news.
I knew better. I was an educated young woman. I was self assured and had a healthy self esteem. Why did I stay with him?
Then, he asked me to marry him.
This scared me more than anything. It was such a desperate attempt at “having me” to himself and controlling my every move. I finally woke up. I knew I had to break it off with Michael ASAP.
After telling him we needed to talk, he picked me up in his car and we headed to a restaurant. While in the car I began to explain to him that me dating him was a mistake and that I thought it was best to end it.
As I turned to look at him I could see his face tensing up. His foot pounded the gas pedal and he began yelling at me. With burning fury in his eyes, he said it. He called me that 4 letter “C” word that no woman ever wants to hear.
He then leaned over me and opened the passenger door and demanded I get out of the car while continuing to drive erratically and calling me names.
I begged him to stop. We were near my cousin’s house and I ordered him to drop me off at her house. It was as if he had suddenly woken up from a trance and had no idea what had happened. He continued driving, calmly this time and dropped me off at my cousin’s house.
Had this just happened to me? What if he hadn’t settled down?
Michael is now dead.
I found out by google searching him one day. It doesn’t say how he died but I can only imagine. He had tried contacting me and my parents after I had broken it off to find out where I was and where I lived.
This was 26 years ago but I remember it like it was yesterday. I know I am one of the lucky ones who was able to escape unharmed. I know many victims have endured way more than what happened to me.
There is no excusing this abuse and violence. As a society we have a huge problem in our hands that needs to be better addressed.
But what continues to disturb me is why I didn’t listen my internal alarms as well as external warnings. Yes I was young, but I knew better.
Why against our better judgement do we sometimes still choose to play with fire?
*Here is an interesting article about “bad boys”.