I was in a relationship for almost nine years with a man I loved and still love. He never remembered my birthday, spent all of my money, laughed when some horrible things happened to me and when he ended the relationship I thought I would die. I still feel sad and it’ll be three years in less than two months. I never liked me, that’s obvious, and he like other men who I’ve been involved with saw that and did what they wanted to and with me. I don’t count. I’ve cried almost every day for the past three years because I don’t count and despite loving this man tremendously my love, the best part of myself, of anyone, wasn’t good enough. I’m glad it worked out for you or your character. Meanwhile I live daily wondering if I will ever love again. I wonder daily when it was that I became so repulsive that he no longer liked looking at me. I wonder daily how disgusted he was touching me. And daily I hate myself, more. Yeah, more.