My worst
I started a relationship with N in 2018. On and off, friends with benefits, we meandered into a sexless ‘relationship’. My motivation for the relationship was the fear of being single. Despite my inner feelings, N ticked a lot of boxes: he sacrificed all his time and emotional bandwidth for me, plus my friends and family loved him. On the flip side and perhaps a symptom of feeling stuck, I would demean N, weaponise his low self-esteem, and attack any opinions he had. I was his best friend and his worst enemy. Against this unstable backdrop, our lives intertwined.
Fast forward to lockdown 1.0 and I was stressed, isolated and homesick. As a result, my behaviour towards N was becoming increasingly toxic. N continued to absorb the abuse and emit kindness - he indulged my passions, planned home activities and supported me through my mental health episodes. My biggest obstacle was my visa status that impeded my ability to find a full-time job. N curated and sent job lists everyday, believing in me, always encouraging me and praying (literally) that my hopeless situation would be remedied. Perhaps by divine intervention, a full time position materialised, which I accepted - but my joy quickly subsided.
Solely for financial reasons, I moved in with N, who lived a stone’s throw away from my ex. Unbeknownst to N, I had sporadically texted my ex during our relationship. My intentions were marred. N noticed a few times but I claimed the meetings were for friendship. My ex was the opposite of N: toxic, careless and exploitative, in many ways similar to me. All my friends suggested that I ignore my ex but against all sound logic, I yearned and gave him all my attention and love.
Then came lockdown 2.0, where I committed the worst acts of my life. I was regularly getting drunk and shirking lockdown rules, going to group gatherings on a daily basis.
On one occasion I got drunk and bit and punched N repeatedly. He told me the morning after, with a stream of tears, and despite my apology, I truly didn’t feel any remorse. Another day, he was anxious to dance with me so I screamed at him, and belittled him, then proceeded to sext my ex. His tears and protest at my inhumanity were met with shrugs and apathy.
I contemplated a teetotal lifestyle but in a depressed state, continued to get drunk and break lockdown rules. Desperate to feel something other than sadness and isolation, I meticulously planned a sex date with my ex. The intention was just sex and no emotion (but I treated my ex like my boyfriend).
In an attempt to engage with morality, I broke up with N, the day before before the first sex session. N speculated the breakup was premeditated, but I lied to N that I would not have sex with other men until I moved out of his flat.
My alibis spanned “reading in the park”, to “going to a friend’s house”, and eventually, I’d “go for a walk” in the pouring rain at 00:45. I was willing to compromise anything for my ex. N’s suspicions drove him to bouts of severe depression but I denied everything to spare his feelings. Eventually, upon significant confrontation, I admitted everything to N. Once again, I looked into his teary, bloodshot eyes, and once again lied, “I realise what I’ve done is horrific, and I promise I won’t do it again until I move out”.
Over the past two years, I privately destroyed, demeaned and tortured N, the kindest person with amazing qualities who truly loved me. The majority of the time I couldn’t even blame alcohol.
N gave me his heart and his soul. In return, I gave all that N wanted to my soulless ex: a Tory, drug taking “lad” with sub-par morals and a person who never took any interest or effort in me, unless enticed by sex.
I am receiving CBT and hope that one day I can confront my actions. I deserve to feel guilt and sadness for what I have done. Please treat your loved ones with kindness, no matter what your circumstances are.