Doomed To Be Abused?
Am I too optimistic, or simply ignoring the obvious red flags?
It all began with a dispute, a sudden episode of rage over something trivial.
It wasn’t even 6 AM, and we were still in bed after a sleepless night. No sex, we just couldn’t fall asleep. Probably due to the heat. I suggested to my boyfriend that he massage my feet, as he used to do every morning when we first started dating. He obliged immediately.
My phone was nearby, and out of reflex rather than steaming from a true desire for getting harassed by the real world so early, I reached for it when it made a sound. My dear darling had sent me the beautiful pictures we had taken together the day prior.
I was living a real-life love story. Red roses, homemade meals, massages, and words of affection . . . I had the whole package every day from day one. Some of my friends labeled it love bombing. I called it true passion.
Receiving this type of attention from my Latino boyfriend after four years of Canadian dating norms felt incredibly good. Coming from a man who grew up close-ish to the Equator, it seemed like the standard and didn’t shock me as out-of-character.
I had the whole package every day from day one. Some of my friends labeled it…
