The boiling frog
They had been dating for almost two years, and the best part of her week was the weekend, when they got to be together without any interruptions. She would live for that, working the whole week just thinking about those two nights where they could sleep together. It wasn’t about the sex, of course. They barely touched each other anymore. It was just his company, the thought of looking over and seeing that special person. That made all the difference. During the week, she would have imaginary conversations with him all the time. The one hour she drove every Friday night to his house seemed like eternity, and traffic didn’t make it any better. And when she finally had parked, those seconds before seeing him would give her butterflies in her stomach. But after five minutes together, everything would fade away. They always started some stupid fight over nothing, and from there it would only get worse. Every time, no matter the situation, he would end up screaming at her. First she’d get angry and self-defensive, but after a while his shouts would fill up the place and she would be reduced to nothing. And she couldn’t scream back — it wasn’t her nature at all.
And that was their weekends. They would fight 65% of the time they spent together, and the few moments of happiness would be filled with jokes and depreciation. No beautiful words anymore. No touching, no kisses. Just two people who barely looked like a couple spending some non-quality time together. She would buy the groceries, he would cook, they would fight over who does the dishes. She would pick up his clothes, he would ignore it and she would complain about the messy apartment. But on Sunday night, the place would be full of lovely goodbyes and kisses. And when she finally got home, they would call each other and fight again. Over something stupid — again. This time wasn’t different.
After the fight, she sat down on her bed thinking if this was the life she so much yearned for. Every time he screamed at her, she felt like the stupidest person alive. Why couldn’t she just leave him, and live a fully happy life? What was this spell that kept her under his scrutiny, vulnerable to all of his madness? She didn’t know, and so didn’t he. Every time he lost control, he would ask himself if she deserved it, and even if she didn’t, he would still get mad just because he liked it. It was funny seeing the girl’s eyes full of terror, and knowing he had that kind of power over her turned him on. Besides, it was easy to make her forget and forgive — he would just have to sound sincerely sorry and apologize over a few times, maybe some tears and hugs. She fell for it every time.
It all started a year ago, in the first months of the relationship. He lost control over some jealousy matter and screamed at her. She was shocked — nobody had ever screamed at her before. He instantly apologized and realized the big mistake he’d made. She should have left him right at that moment, making her point clear that his behavior was unforgivable. But she accepted his excuses and promised to stay there. Sad mistake. He would soon learn that he could get away with anything, increasing the abuse, making his voice louder and louder. She got so used to it that his reactions were always expected, and she would actually get surprised every time he didn’t scream. Screaming became part of their lives, a third element in the relationship. It was like it was always there, just waiting to get free through his lips.
Of course she said she would leave next time. And she almost did. Bags were packed and unpacked countless times, and he would be left standing on the corner crying. But she felt pity, he said it wouldn’t happen again, she had hope. She was thinking about marriage! How crazy would that be, marrying a man that abuses you so much, every day, and doesn’t seem like is going to change any time soon? It’s because of his past, she would think. His dad was horrible to him, his mom was a drug addict and he was left with nothing after their death. It is his internal problems, his denial about dealing with these open scars. He is bipolar, so he can’t control himself.
It’s like she dates two different people, one is like a child, so naive and sweet. The other is the devil himself. She’s still waiting for the day he will hit her. And then, she’ll leave. Hopefully, alive.
