I can’t point to one specific moment and claim that everything started then. Maybe if I tell you, it will be easy for both of us to find the exact moment. Maybe it does not matter. There was the day she told me that she cheated on me with someone else. There was the day I cheated on her with someone else. I would later claim that she cheated first, so my cheating was caused by hers. As if that would matter at all. Or change anything. There was the day she told me that she had had over ten sexual partners, before she met me. There was the day I told her I was a virgin. There was the day we first sexted each other. There was the day we actually had sex for the first time. There was the day I read her Skype history. The day I read her Facebook messages to her other sexual partners. I do not know when everything started.
I know that I reminded her often. Reminded her of all her sins. Of how she had hurt me. Of how she disrespected me. Of how she took me for granted. Of who she preferred to have sex with. Of how it hurt that she told other men that I was not worth it. Of how she should go find those men and not waste time with me. Of whether she was with me because other men had used and dumped her. Of whether she was addicted to men. Of whether she was aiming at breaking a world multiple partners at a specific moment record. I reminded her that she could not resist any man’s advances. I told her how the day I met her must have been the day God went to sleep and let Lucifer roam the earth unattended to, pulling a fast one on me, an innocent holy child of God’s.
I did not waste any time whenever I felt inadequate. I told her she was a witch. A monster. A femme fatale. A power-hungry thing. I told her the worst. I told her about how she controlled me. How I was a worthless thing after she had sucked all worth from me. I remember telling her that I was nothing but a penis she could use whenever wherever. I even told her that I was going to commit suicide because living was worse than dying, knowing all she thought about me, and shabbily labelled love. I did not stop at telling her. One day, I bought a number of pills and was ready to leave her in the world to do her evil. She called someone who rushed to my apartment and literally grabbed the pills from my hands. No, it is not a Nollywood movie. I ended up at a counsellor’s and under watch for days.
When she left me, so I could be saved of the evil I said she was, I went crazy accusing her of using me and leaving me so worthless, a shell that no one wanted. You were not there when I used every chance to tell her that she had damaged me and so she should suffer the consequences. That she had no basis to dump me, because that would prove how evil she was. You were not there to see me cry. To see me call all the living and dead ancestors to save me from her. You were not there when I sent sms onto sms to the boy she was seeing when she came to live with me, after I had written tonnes and tonnes of books claiming that she could not spend a mere week with me after she had found younger blood.
You missed out on the drama when I actually met the boy with whom she was sleeping under my watch. You did not see me swing towards him to land a hot slap on his cheek, only to be whisked away by a bouncer before I could destroy the ka boy’s jaw bone. The bouncer knew my cousin and so saved me the embarrassment of reporting the case to police. I was talked to. I went home with her. She sulked the whole evening. I could not stop preaching. Her open legs had caused this.
You could not tell me that I were wrong. You could not. You could not tell me about the times I had misbehaved. You could not convince me that my inferiority complex and low self-esteem were not her problem. Cheating, she did. Cheating, I did. But I was the only one allowed to accuse her. Disrespect me, she did. Disrespect her, I did. But I was the only one with the right to insult. To destroy whatever possibilities she had to date beyond me. But fuck, she did date. And I did lose many times. And that worsened my condition. She was a free slut. Yes, slut-shaming happened. I was dying. I was going. At least she should have charged money for her services. What misogynist shit didn’t I say?
The emotional abuser is not a normal person. The emotional abuser is a sick person. You can’t make me say the extents I went to, to embarrass myself, and her and everyone who knew both of us, or just the one of us. Emotional abuse hurts the abuser too. It is also a form of self-abuse. I do not know the solutions. Or the causes. But that thing is not cool. I know. I do not know her side of the story. I just never want to be the same person that did all I did to her. To me. But of course, I am too embarrassed to apologise. That shit was real. And what if I apologise and the virus returns. Jealousy is not it. It is worse. It is some strange obsession. Pray to God everyday to protect you from becoming an emotional abuser.
11 comments On Loveless Love by Guest Contributor OT_Ug
This post moves me in all sorts of ways. Firstly I think the writing is brilliant and I got a sense of how traumatic this experience was for both OT_Ug and the woman in question. I feel for you both, and many thanks for sharing this story. I think this relationship was clearly poisonous for both of you, and I hope both of you have found some healing. Hugs
so this is what emotional abuse looks and feels like… wow. hmmmm
Read about emotional abuse extensively sometime last year…for science. Sadly I see more and more of these around me these days. Whoever wrote this (great writing btw) needs to dig into their past and look for the source of their inferiority complex that manifests in clingy/needy-ness before it destroys them. Till then, if all that reading I did is to be believed, he might keep on moving from unhealthy relationship to another. The girl too. Bad romances are not as cool as Lady Gaga’s popular song made them sound…that shit is sad and the underlying issues need to be addressed chap chap. My hugs may not be as warm as Nana’s, but I’m also sending some
Thanks OT for this write up. This sent chills down my spine because its something i am also facing. I have been accused on several occasions and at this point i dont even have the words nor the energy to defend myself. However, i am sending the link to my accuser to know how his actions are affecting me. Please be a regular writer on here. Bless your Soul.
…till I read this I did not have a name for a very recent past experience which I still deal with everyday, and in silence. Sad…very sad indeed..
Who comes out as right/wrong? And how does one get over such an experience for good anyway?? Especially if you’re the one at the receiving end of all the reminders, name-calling and the one left feeling worthless and empty as a result…?
I am with M. I did not have a name for it either.
I believe another step you can take toward your healing process is to find a way to apologise to the person you abused, not just once but let her believe you are sorry, im sorry you are going through this but those words can break someone. I am very happy you now know what you both did to each other was unhealthy and im even more glad you can feel the embarassment (to me that is part of the healing process) but pleassse try taking a step to apologise to her, it may be now or sometime in the future but it needs to be done.
Nana: thanks for understanding. And for the hugs. And for the complement on the writing.
Roland: thanks for your hugs too. Ditto: the sources of the inferiority complex and all. The journey still continues.
KK: I am glad that my fucked up-ness has spoken to you in some way and may lead to some relief.
M: both the abuser and the abused are victims I think. One does not even know they are a victim while they inflict damage. It is a fucked up situation.
Manda: that takes courage but yes, I agree, the courage has to be found and the right thing done. Thanks for all.
OT_Ug, I wish you all the best as you gather the courage to apologize, but I think forgiving her is the first step in the healing process.
I also pray you find it in your heart to forgive her.
Thanks for sharing your experience.
Take care OT_Ug.
My first thought when I read this was “Wow, this is why it is so important for couples to be sexually compatible.”
I think that because OT_Ug’s partner was his first (I think I read he was a virgin) and she had such a longer sexual history, it may have proven problematic comparing himself, even subconsciously, to her previous lovers. Only they can say who started the cheating first.
Sex is SO powerful. It’s spiritual. It’s an experience that changes you with every encounter. I hope the couple can work through this together – or separately – if needs be. Either way, healing needs to take place. I’m also sending you hugs, UT_Og.
Despite what the pervasive thought about emotional abusers is, I can’t help but see that you are a victim as well. I truly hope you get the help you need!
A victim and a survivor. It takes really long hard looks at yourself to leave this exact situation. We need to talk about it more