He came into the bar on the day I was covering a bartending shift. Normally he was loud and abrasive; he'd chug shots and do blow in the back bathroom. That day though, he was different. He was sad.
He had a book with him (a book I also owned) and he just wanted an adult hot chocolate with whip cream; lots of whip cream. I felt badly for him. That was the day things really started to change. The disgust and annoyance I had for him turned into empathy and friendship. I thought back to how he had told me about his childhood. He said his dad had hit him in the face with a hammer and his teeth never looked the same. We were drunk. I felt awful; and that was the point in which my hate for him had turned into that very disgust and annoyance which was dissipating. He picked me. Then he worked on me. He is a Sociopath.
Some of us he chose for sex and drugs. Others for a roof over his head. He loved to be seen with hot girls, so status was a known go-to. Then there were those of us that he chose because of who we represented to him. The drugs, alcohol, and attraction were there too, but he sucked our life-force from us. Of those womxn some of us were told he would kill us. Some were drugged and boozed up beyond cognition. Some of us almost died. All of us were assaulted.
It took me until far too recently to be able to say, "He raped me." I fell in love with a monster. That's the healing that I can't get through.
I can work through the choking, the twisting of my arms behind my back, the fear of being stabbed; what I can't work through is how in the fuck I went from hating this person to losing my consent, my health, my sanity, and my self-worth. How did I fall in love with this man?
I got off work that day, and I started to sit with him more and more. He told me he was pretty sure his girlfriend was cheating on him. He loved her so much and he just wanted her to be happy. This always happened to him. He was always cheated on. And I started to trust her less and less.
Another thing I can't seem to move on from. She had tried to warn me, but I didn't understand how good he was at lying. I didn't think I would ever date him. I was dumb before I ever loved him.
I'm sure my therapist wouldn't like me writing that, but it's the only thing I can think.
I'm a fucking idiot. It's the thought that always comes back no matter how much time passes. Especially when I'm bombarded with memories, and I see them as they really were and not how he wanted them to be seen.
