(Disclaimer: This will be the third of a miniature series of blogs that will reference a less-than-loving past relationship. This is the story of my abusive relationship and how I wound up in and out of it over the course of three years. Please see Content Warning before reading if you are concerned about the nature of the story, as I will not be leaving out any details. All names, places, and identities will be altered for no other reason than to avoid conflict. Changed names, locations, and other things deemed necessary will be marked with *.)
My guts were doing somersaults. My shell was frozen, numb; but my insides were haywire. I gazed at my phone, absently. Six weeks had gone by. Six. Not a word said or a tear shed on his part, then this? I’m a slut now? I am a slut because I found solace in a few good friends who just so happen to not share the same genital anatomy as I? I guess I have always been a slut then, because I love hanging out with guys.
On this particular day, I was happy. Well, happier than I had been in weeks. I was looking so forward to fishing and being with my friends that I had essentially forgot about the lingering depression that would creep up on me in waves.
As I sat there starring at the cold message I had just received, Channing chimed in.
“Don’t even think about it. Delete it, now,” he said. He wasn’t being nosy or controlling about it. He said it calmly. He had heard me babble on and on for weeks about how broken hearted I was over this asshole, and he wasn’t about to let me trip and fall back into square one. For the sake of argument, I tucked my phone back into my pocket and went through the motions of pretending nothing was wrong. Yet, it was hard to act like nothing was wrong, and the guys could tell.
“Stop worrying about that him, Corsi. You can do so much better. You need to cheer up, come have a beer and catch some fish with us,” they pleaded.
I (poorly) acted enthusiastic about fishing and beer, but that text bothered me. “So he was really thinking about getting back together with me,” I thought to myself. I couldn’t make my mind stray away from the thought of us being together again, which was a thought that I had basically folded into a paper airplane and tossed downwind. Then I got mad again. “Wait, he hasn’t said a word to me in ages. He just doesn’t want to hear of me hanging out with other guys, but he has no problem going behind my back with others girls. No, f*ck him,” my senses were starting to come back to me, but not enough to keep my hands off my phone.
I told the guys I was going to “find a bathroom” and that I would be right back. I definitely needed a bathroom, I felt like I was gonna vomit. So it’s not like I was lying. Of course, at the lake there are hardly any bathrooms anywhere, so I hung out in the bushes for a minute while I pondered the message and what my reply should consist of. I had already kept him waiting for at least 30 minutes, which was empowering. In a sense, I felt like the ball was in my court and that made me happy.
“Lol k.” I replied.
The golden text. The text everyone hates, and abusers hate even more. I must have struck a nerve with my short winded message, because it took Jesse no time to reply. Luckily, I hadn’t even made it out of the bushes so my phone didn’t go off around the guys again. This time, the nature of his message changed drastically. His whole demeanor did a 180 within that 30 minutes. The next message I received went a little something like this:
“I just can’t believe you would do this to me. 😥 I thought I loved you. There will never be another girl like you in my life. I have no reason to live. Goodbye forever, Corsi.”
I could not believe what I was reading.
(PAUSE: I know that most of you reading this are probably thinking “What the hell, girl. Block him. Stop talking to him. Don’t fall for it!”, but I just want it to be understood that this person was a manipulator on an Olympic level. He had done it all his life to his friends, family, and past girlfriends. This was who he was and how he operated in order to get what he wanted. This was something I was not use to. I was young, and was desperate for love.)
This marked the first time (of many) that he threatened to kill himself over my actions. I had never been told before that something I did would cause another to take their own life. I panicked, to say the least. But I still couldn’t let the guys know that I was carrying on with Jesse through texts, I didn’t want to disappoint them after all they had done for me. But I needed to get through to Jesse, no matter what it took. His life was at stake!
“What?! No, please don’t do that. Why would you even talk like that babe? You know I am always here if you need me. I wish you would have come to me sooner if you were feeling this way,” I replied.
“I wanted to but you were busy with your boyfriend all the time. But you should be happy with him. I don’t deserve you. Goodbye, I love you,” he said.
(Again, these messages are not word for word, but a close depiction of how our conversations went, not that I could ever make this kind of thing up anyway.)
As you all can probably guess, I made up an excuse to high-tail it home. What was suppose to be a fun day doing something that I genuinely enjoyed doing was abruptly interrupted by my willingness to be there for Jesse. I think I made up some lame excuse for them to take me home, like my mom needed me to do some chores around the house. They knew I was lying because my mom loved them and was beside herself that they were in my life at the time. She liked that they took me places and kept me distracted from Jesse. They all kind of groaned and packed up shop, at my request. I felt guilty in a way, but I couldn’t let Jesse think I didn’t care about him, he was going to kill himself if I didn’t do something ASAP.
When we got back to my house I quickly told the boys goodbye so that they’d leave, I changed clothes, hopped in my car and made my way towards Ruford City. I called Jesse the second I hit the road to tell him not to do anything stupid, because I was on my way.
“Whatever, if you loved me you’d already be here,” was all I got, then he hung up.
I was driving like a bat out of hell just trying to get to his house. My stomach was in knots at this point. I might end up making him mad, but I didn’t care, I needed to save his life! When I pulled up, I threw the car in park and flung myself out of the car. I noticed right away that his parents weren’t there, even better. Less questions to answer. I banged on the door viciously before letting myself in. I walked back to his room, not knowing what to expect when I opened the door. I was shaking; shaking out of nervousness and fear, all in one. Then I swung the door open…there he was, in his bed, smoking his pipe and watching TV.
I was so confused but so relieved. I had been crying the whole way to his house, scared of what I might find, and here he was. Chillin’.
“What’s your problem,” he asked without even looking at me.
I just stood there kind of quiet for a second, trying to gather up the words to say. I hadn’t seen him in 6 weeks. I wasn’t sure how to even react at this moment. So I just started crying harder, against my will. But I couldn’t help it. We fought for the first half of our conversation. He thought that my non-existent boyfriend would be mad that I was there, so that I better leave. I tried like hell to convince him that I didn’t have a boyfriend, and then he threw it in my face about how I had been spending time with the guys from my school. I don’t know who told him that, because he had already blocked me on MySpace. Either way, he knew I had been hanging out with them and it didn’t sit well with him. How dare I have friends to hang out with after he dumped me and quit talking to me, right?
After about 30 minutes of arguing about my relationship status, or a lack thereof, we both finally calmed down. He told me that we might be able to work on things but that I would have to stop hanging out with people he didn’t know. I agreed. Then I offered to introduce them to Jesse, because either way, I had to see these guys at school. He didn’t like the idea of meeting them, yet. So I said nothing more about it. I ended up lying to my mom and staying the night at his place that night, which was something I did often. It’ll take a long time for me to forgive myself for lying to my parents so much, but they weren’t stupid. They knew what was going on, where I was. But what could they do? The answer is nothing; because I would have found a way to do what I wanted anyways.
A couple months went by and one day I was at Jesse’s house with he and Justin. I was bored silly, and they started to get hungry. I offered to make a trip to get some food, but I was broke. Mind you, Jesse had never taken me on a real date. Ever. Maybe one time during our entire relationship, but does Sonic even count? Anyways, Jesse handed me like 13 bucks, gave me his order and told me to use the rest to get whatever I wanted. What a guy. Justin gave me his order and exact change because he frequented this place and knew how much it cost. When I got there, the total ended up being just enough for both meals. I was starving, so I figured Jesse wouldn’t care if I got him a cup of soup instead of a bread bowl, so I could at least get a half of a sandwich, which is what I did.
When I returned to the house, I distributed everyone’s food and began to sit down at the vanity with my sandwich. Justin thanked me and started eating while Jesse dug viciously through the bag.
“What the f*ck. I ordered a bread bowl. Did they mess this up or did you?” he was not happy.
He noticed that I had gotten myself food and then he came unglued. He asked me if I used his money to get myself something and I admitted that I thought he wouldn’t mind if his soup wasn’t in a bread bowl. I was mad and scared that he was getting so up-in-arms about something so minute. Before I could even take a bite of my sandwich, he grabbed it from my hands and threw it at me. Then he picked up his salad, and threw that as well, followed by his soup. It was everywhere.
“What the hell, Jesse! Calm down, what is your problem?!?!” I screamed. Justin was trying to get him to calm down too.
“Get the f*ck out of my house, leave! NOW!” Jesse screamed as I was trying to clean everything up. I acted like I didn’t hear him, because I knew if I didn’t entertain his tantrum that he would calm down and apologize. Apparently today was not the day for apologies, because when I didn’t budge, he stomped over to me, yanked me up by my arms and started shoving me towards the door. I fought back. I tried to shove him and get out of his reach. Finally I screamed, “Fine! Let me f*cking go! Get off of me!”
And he shoved me away from him. I looked at Justin, who wasn’t surprised by what had just happened. He mouthed at me to “just go”, while he motioned towards the door behind Jesse’s back. If anyone could bring Jesse back down to earth, it was Justin. And Justin meant well, but it was exhausting for him to be friends with Jesse, I would imagine. This kind of thing happened way too often. In any case, I left. Jesse followed me to the door, breathing down my neck, with both fists clenched. I got in my car, bawling and covered in gross deli food, and went home.
At this point, we had been together for over a year if you don’t count the few hiatuses we took. Of course, every time there was a hiatus, I came crawling back at his will. So it should come as no surprise to you that I came back after our little food fight.
When the food fight happened, he had just moved out of his mom’s house and into his dad’s. His mom couldn’t stand Jesse living with her anymore after a previous episode where Jesse basically destroyed his room, broke a glass jar and threatened to slit his wrists, then to top it all off, the cops came. It wasn’t pretty. But that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
It’s hard to say which living situation was better or worse. His mom was an enabler, in my opinion, but his dad wasn’t an ideal roommate at the time either. But his dad didn’t put up with much attitude, and he knew how to handle him better. I’m not afraid to give credit where is due. Jesse could still go out in the wee hours of the night and do God-knows-what, but he wasn’t going to act violent around his dad or there would be more severe consequences than a slap on the wrist.
So he waited until no one was around, notwithstanding myself, to get violent. Still, I thought I could fix him. I started realizing how wrong I was when one day I tried to leave at my own will, but had no way out.
To be continued…