Every woman has encountered a “nice guy” at some point, the alleged underdogs of the dating scene. The men who open doors for you, who shower you in compliments, who always pay for dates, who think that they deserve to date you because they’re “nice” My ex-boyfriend was a “nice guy”, and dating him was arguably the worst decision I have ever made. He caused me so much heartbreak and emotional distress that I often ask myself why I even got involved with him in the first place.
I met Kevin* when I was 15, and we clicked almost immediately. We bonded over our shared love of animated movies and sitcoms, and he was very charming. He knew exactly what to say to make me feel happy and accepted. I soon developed romantic feelings for him, and on Oct. 23, 2015, we confessed our feelings for each other and became a couple.
I was on cloud nine, where I remained for the first eight months of our relationship. For a while, everything was perfect. We went out on dates to the movies or to dinner, and he was my prom date. He built a rapport with my friends and his family treated me like their own daughter. It wasn’t until that summer that I came crashing back down to reality.
During the summer of 2016, I became busy with my part-time job and summer classes. Kevin said he understood that I was busy, but I know that deep down he didn’t want to accept that I couldn’t dedicate all my time to him. He texted me every night like clockwork (which I now realize should have been a red flag in itself), and if I didn’t respond right away, he would start to get pushy. I could be studying, or at work, or with my family, and he’d be blowing up my phone demanding that I answer him. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was the first sign of emotional abuse.
I started to suspect that something was wrong, but I brushed it off because I didn’t want to be alone. Kevin had brainwashed me into believing that nobody could ever love me the way he did. I’ve read that emotional abusers prey on their victim’s weaknesses and insecurities and Kevin did just that. He knew that I had considered myself to not be girlfriend material, so I would be hesitant to break up with him; to do so would be like sentencing myself to a lifetime of loneliness.
Early in 2017, I found myself falling out of love with Kevin, not due to his abusive nature, but his immaturity. At times it felt like I was dating a 12-year-old. Though I knew it would anger him, I began to deliberately ignore his nightly messages because I was sick of hearing about video games and the scripts he wrote for movie review videos that never came to fruition. I was used to Kevin being pushy when I didn’t respond, but soon he began hurling insults at me. He accused me of not paying enough attention to him and trying to discourage him from following his dreams. That’s when I knew it was time to get out of the relationship.
With the help of a friend, I devised a way to break things off with Kevin without creating drama. Perhaps coincidentally, while I was working up the courage to carry out my breakup plan, Kevin suddenly became very affectionate toward me. He showered me in praise and started to initiate physical contact (which he never did before). I was convinced Kevin was oblivious to the decline of our relationship, at least until he confronted me about it. His overbearing mother got me to admit my plans to end the relationship, and Kevin inevitably found out through her.
Kevin told me that if I dare leave him he would commit suicide because I was his whole world, his reason for living. I desperately wanted out, but I knew that I would never be able to forgive myself if he did take his own life. Once again, Kevin preyed on me, this time on my kind nature. I was trapped in our relationship.
I stayed with him for weeks after I made plans to break up. I looked happy on the outside, but inside I was anything but. I felt nervous, angry, concerned and embarrassed, all at once. I was finally put out of my misery on July 2, 2017, when Kevin ended the relationship with a single text message in which he blamed me for ruining his life. His message was jarring to say the least, but it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I was free from him, his immaturity, and his abuse.
They say that you never forget your first love. I’ve found this to be a tragic truth; I will never forget Kevin or the emotional distress he caused me. All I can hope for is the ability to forgive him someday. The path to healing and forgiveness will be a long one, but I will get there.
If you or someone you know is in an unhealthy relationship and struggling, know that there are many sources out there who can help. For more information, visit SAFE’s (Stop Abuse For Everyone) website.
*Name changed in article to keep subject anonymous