If love is a drug, he was meth
I’ve never actually done meth, but I know that you become immediately addicted. Also, if you don’t quit in time, it will slowly dismantle your dopamine receptors and your health.
The withdrawal is what makes it hard to quit. Fatigue sets in, then depression. The loss of pleasure is distressing and painful. And of course, resisting the urge to use again is excruciatingly difficult.
Similarly, the man I fell in love with three years ago was an instant crush. The first time I saw him, I was scooping his gelato at the pastry shop where I worked. He later sent me a Facebook message asking me out to coffee. It was a relationship based on physical attraction, perhaps the first red flag.
We spent so many nights together, mostly indulging on drinks, good food, movies and occasional cigarettes. We said I love you, moved in together, etc. He wasn’t my first love but he was different. The “sun shined out of his ass hole” kind of love. I believed that he was my ideal partner. But why?
The honeymoon phase was short lived. Things started to go downhill after we decided to live under the same roof after only three months of dating. I remember feeling trapped in a confined space with someone I didn’t know as well as I thought I did.
At the time, I was studying for an English degree and he worked in a kitchen. His life revolved around socialization and drinking, while I just wanted to pass my classes with decent grades and keep our relationship afloat somehow. He’d invite people over during my study time or he’d come home obliterated.
The real kicker was his month-long vacation to Australia. After resentment and distrust had already grown in our relationship, I ended up discovering his tinder account when he returned.
Needless to say, we broke up.
I removed him from my life entirely after the drawn out fights, ignoring each other’s needs and ultimately feeling unloved.
Then, on a particularly lonely Thanksgiving, I was (hardly) sleeping on the couch at my grandma’s house and sent him a text.
After months go by of us talking again continuously, somehow forgetting about all of the bad stuff that had just occurred a few months prior, we eventually meet in his new city for a romantic weekend and rekindling of romance.
Weekends of visiting each other back and forth turned into a serious long distance relationship.
Then I met “some guy” at a metal show and had a somewhat romantic evening.
When I told my boyfriend what I had done, he became robotic. In fact, he never again showed me any sign of romantic affection, let alone love. My act of infidelity was all it took to sever what ever was left, and that really hurt.
The deepest cut was him telling me that his attraction for me had essentially disappeared.
I guess what I learned from this three year on and off situation was that trying to make a failing and toxic relationship work will cause pain for all involved and only delay recovery from withdrawal.
We were clearly on thin ice and our demise was inevitable. If I could go back in time, I would have ended the relationship sooner and on amicable terms.
The last thing my ex-boyfriend said to me was, “I wish I would have held your hand more often and taken stupid Instagram pictures with you.”
But it was far too late for that and we both knew it.
