I have gotten a few questions in response to my relationship in high school and thought it would be a perfect segway into the blog. I had been meaning to share this particular story anyways. So no, this is not a food blog post. I may end up doing one tonight.
Anyways, I dated someone in high school for about a year. It was my first “real relationship,” I guess if you want to call all that high school jazz real. We broke up about three weeks into college because he told me point blank, I was not worth the eight hour drive and he could find plenty of hot sorority girls at his private church school. I kid you not, if I could make up such creative stories I would have become a children’s fiction writer.
Rewind to high school, the beginning of my senior year. I was focused on school, I loved swimming and I still probably lacked a lot of self confidence or a back bone. I was certainly not the most beautiful girl in my class but I like to think I wasn’t the grimmest either. I was , however, just as socially awkward as I am now. I don’t think I’ll ever get away from that.
I met this kid at a mutual friend’s party and he somehow foundme on MySpace a few days later. Bahaha MySpace. Oh good times with that. We progressed as more than friends and he was nice to me, my friends, family and everyone in my life. He never did anything to hurt me and was constantly telling me I looked nice.
Months one through three were amazing. I thought I had my life all figured out. I had recovered completely from my shoulder injuries from junior year and I was doing well in school. I had narrowed my college choice down between East Carolina and Potsdam. My boyfriend had narrowed his down between East Carolina, Malone (in Ohio) and Old Dominion. He was still nice to me and constantly making me feel happy.
During college selection, he began bragging to me about all the colleges he had gotten into (which I now know was pretty much bs). He would put me down, saying how smart he was and how little he studied. (He was actually homeschooled and finished early was doing some duel enrollment year in community college.) He would talk about all the partying he did and what he smoked the night before.
He stated in order for me to be accepted by my peers I would have to change. To lose weight. To dye my hair blonde. To drink. To party. To smoke. The list is endless, of all things he wanted me to be. I was just never good enough for him. I was a blank palate and he was an artist creating the perfect person. A blonde straight haired bimbo perhaps? He would call me names, tell me to come over, tell me to drink with him, and try to get me to sneak out.
Then he told me I couldn’t go to Potsdam. I wouldn’t like it. I couldn’t make a decision of where I wanted to go until he made his. Of course, this all sounds silly now. But I waited, and waited. Would he choose ECU? Then I would. Would he choose ODU? I had gotten in there, I suppose that would be fun.
He chose Malone.
In his mind, that gave me the right to chose Potsdam. The school I had fallen in love with. The school that would make me happy. Not a day goes by where I don’t get a flashback of him telling me he was going to Malone.
He broke up with me in early June before graduation. I was devastated. My life was over. He wanted to be friends with benefits and see other girls at the same time. No guy would be interested in me, so I might as well do what he says according to him. I agree for that week. He asked me out again the day of my high school graduation. I said yes but things just progressed to become worse.
He constantly told me I needed to change. I needed to do this, no one would ever love me if I broke up with him. I was constantly crying and was never happy. According to him, he was out of my league. If I would change more things than I could somehow work my way up there. I was lucky to even be near him let alone dating him. He had control over me 100% mentally.
Then three weeks into college he informed me there were just too many sorority girls at the neighboring school Ohio State. I wasn’t worth an eight hour drive. Our relationship was meaningless. I just couldn’t compete with them.
My roommate at the time heard the entire thing. She was crying for me. I never cried (and believe me I’m an emotional freak). I was done crying over him and haven’t looked back since. I had cried so much during that relationship that I was done crying.
He never physically abused me but there was plenty of emotional abuse. Looking back in high school, I wish one of my friends had been strong enough to show me what I deserved. Had told me he was awful and controlling me. It was as if I wasn’t allowed to think by myself.
No girl deserves that (or boy for that matter).
I truly believe emotional abuse is much more prominent than physical.