Once you've been abused, you can smell it a mile away. And you get weird to it, and things push you into an ugly place, a place of survival.
Last I heard from him he was sending emails, asking what to do with some stuff of mine, I had stuff of his also. He said he would leave it up to me how to decide to swap it.
I decided to think about it, because I wasn't ready to see him, because it had been confused, even though I knew the end of our relationship and probably our friendship was the right thing to do, it still hurt, I still missed him, and I still wanted him around in some ways. We didn't date that long, but it still sucked. And whenever we would talk via email one of the other one would basically vent about how much it sucked without the other person, and why are we doing this. I knew I personally was too weak to make it stick, because I missed him. And I knew it wasn't right, which is why I broke it off in the first place.
So I was trying to strengthen myself, so when I saw him it would be calm.
After 9 he just shows up. I was in my pajamas, talking to Dave on the computer. He brought the things, I could tell he was upset and had been crying. I thanked him for bringing it, tried to remain as casual as I could. He left. It was weird. But I was grateful for the maturity of the situation.
Within two minutes on my porch he was back, telling me he needed to talk. I hesitated, then I invited him in, I figured it was the least I could do, and I felt bad that he was feeling pain, because I had been there so much in the last two weeks over us. I'd been up and down and all over the place.
He started with apologies, which I accepted, I tried to remain calm. I wasn't comfortable with the amount of emotionality that was happening, but I tried to just chill. He brought up an issue that I didn't blog about (because despite what he thinks I don't blog to hurt him, I blog to DEAL) and expressed regret that he did "one fucking thing wrong". This is where our voices got raised, and I told him I didn't want to argue with him. I told him again and again. And he begged for time. He said "just two minutes" and looked at his watch. I gave him two minutes, which was two minutes of picking apart my personality flaws. It hurt, but I took it. He was standing in my doorway. Then I asked him to leave.
He made excuses.
I asked again.
My voice was raised to a shout, as was his, it was the only way I knew how to communicate that I was serious, that I wanted him out of my life. I couldn't deal with the poisoned relationship we became. I started to panic. It was survival, GET OUT. GET OUT OF MY SPACE. This was about 20 minutes later... he kept saying "just let me talk" not even realizing he had, and that if I gave him three days he would still not be done attacking me.
He left and the phone calls instantly started. There were 9 of them, from different cell phones, between 15 seconds and 3 minutes apart, whether I hit "decline" or if i talked to him and told him to go away. On one phone call I gave him 30 seconds to talk, as he requested, and he chose to argue during that time.
I told him "I do not want to be in a relationship with you. I do not want to talk to you. I do not want to be your friend." I was brutal, and honest. So he would GET IT. Finally, after he wouldn't listen after my repeated requests for him NOT to call me, I was so angry and felt so scared and violated that I shouted "FUCK YOU! GO AWAY! I WILL CALL THE COPS IF YOU CALL ME BACK. DO YOU UNDERSTAND???"
And finally it was enough.
The last time I had to say that was when I left my husband. I hate to have to be cruel. But I had no choice... he wasn't listening.
I don't think that he has the capacity for physical violence. But I felt intruded on, I felt like he wouldn't leave me alone, and this scared me. Because this is how it starts. He says he will do one thing (wait to hear about the "stuff exchange") and then just do another (show up). It's never consistent with him and so I don't trust anything he says to me.
So he probably hates me. But everyone told me to call the cops, have him picked up, he's probably drunk. I didn't know if he was drunk, he smelled like bar. And he finally did stop calling me. They all said I'd be doing him a favor by calling the cops. I don't know. I'm not a mean or selfish person, not all of those mean things he's been saying about me.
Anyway, if he comes back I will contact the police because I am afraid, and I have the cell phone records, as well as three different people as time stamps as to when it happened and how long it lasted
I hate this. I hate that he made me feel this way. I never expected it. And he will blame me me me me because that's what people with no boundaries do. And that's ok. It will be his way of coping.
My way of coping is keeping him the hell away from me. And I will do whatever it takes.