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Sometimes it’s the boy next door. Sometimes it’s someone else. The relationships we have when we are too young to know better can set the stage for who and how we love the rest of our lives. Time can blur the focus of the memory, or sharpen it with perspective. Please join me in welcoming Kelly from the blog Queen of Evil as we look back on what was, and what might have been. ~ TSH
My first “relationship” was a doozy. The kind you might want to be able to tell your mother about, but you can’t. Or you don’t. I couldn’t. My mother wasn’t the kind to handle it well – it was always easier to keep it to myself. The guy was older than me. We started talking when I was 13 and continued for three years. Initially he told me he was 18, but I always suspected he was much older than that. I honestly don’t know. I’m not sure how much of what I did know was true. I know that he was a very bad guy, involved in some very bad stuff. And that I was lucky to get out relatively unscathed.
I was a mystery he couldn’t solve. I was quiet, shy, and liked books over people. I was even a little sheltered. By all indications, I should have been eager to please, easily manipulated, easy to control. I was just the opposite. I realize now that things he did were constant tests. Trying to get me to break. Testing me to see my reactions. He could never figure me out no matter how hard he tried.
Every day freshman year, as soon as my feet hit the bottom of the steps into the cafeteria, the pay phone would ring. I pretty much spent every lunch period on the phone with him. He always knew exactly when I arrived. He could tell me every detail of what I had done that particular day, which should have freaked me out. But it didn’t.
His calls were unpredictable, by design. One day he would be sweet, then next cold. He would mention our future and then tell me he wouldn’t call me again. He would mention other girls. I guess he was trying to see how I would respond – I never cared. I still had a conversation, I even let him dictate the tone. Initially, he spoke with an English accent. I assume he thought it was charming. It probably was. When I started asking him questions about where he was from and where he had lived, he didn’t have answers. He finally admitted he did it just for fun. I was the first one to figure it out. He didn’t like that. He stepped up the game.
He had the other girlfriends call me. Sometimes they would be friendly and sweet, and other times they would be psycho crazy, threatening to beat me up. I never had a problem talking to them. If they were nice, we’d talk about mundane stuff. About him, about school, about music. If they were being crazy, I’d tell them that they could have him, I wasn’t keeping them apart. Hell, I rarely even saw the guy. He kept coming back to ME, not the other way around. I never chased him. That really pissed them off. But no one ever actually tried to attack me.
We only saw each other about a dozen times over a three year period. He was my first. I think he liked the idea that I was a virgin and he was taking that from me. I was fourteen. It was uneventful. It was just my body, it wasn’t my mind.
He told me several times over those three years that no one left him. No one broke up with him. HE decided when it was over. HE made the decision when things were done.
He was always trying to get me high. Sometimes it was pot, sometimes it was other things. I always refused. It pissed him off that he couldn’t make me. That’s honestly why I started smoking. He was fine with me getting high, but he was adamant that I not smoke cigarettes. So, me being me, I picked up that nasty little habit really fast. For spite. And there was nothing he could do about it. Except watch.
Once, he picked up my best friend and me and took us back to the house. He left her downstairs and took me upstairs to his bedroom. Again, uneventful. To be honest, it was kind of a disappointment. He was a lights off kind of guy. He left me to get dressed and went downstairs. He was gone for a while. I got curious. I snuck down and found that he had backed my friend into a corner in the dark living room, and was putting his hands on her. Coercing her. That shit was NOT cool. He could do whatever he wanted with me, but he would not paw at my friend like that. I made a noise so he knew I was in the stairwell. He sort of walked/tugged her toward the stairwell, and I totally lost it. I told him that if he EVER laid a hand on my friend again I would fuck him up. We fought, verbally, all the way back up the stairs.
That was the only time he ever laid a hand on me in violence. He shoved me and I went backwards down the stairs. It didn’t even register because I was so fucking furious at him. I tucked and rolled and then jumped up and charged back up the stairs at him, screaming. I got a few good licks in too. I know I got him once on the chin hard enough so snap his jaw shut with a clack.
What I learned that night was that, in his way, he now respected me. And he was also a little scared of me. Somehow the balance of power had shifted and I had the control. I don’t think he ever understood how he let that happen.
When I turned sixteen, my best friend threw me a surprise Sweet 16 party. He found out about it and showed up, uninvited. It was awkward and uncomfortable and everyone was terrified of him. I was just embarrassed. He spent most of the party out back, making out with one of the party guests behind the tool shed, and I spent it on the front porch, chain smoking and waiting for my crush to show up. So I could tell him to leave, ASAP. Which I did. Mainly because I didn’t want the drama. But that was the night I decided I was done.
I looked him straight in the eye, and I told him I was done. I didn’t want to see him anymore, or speak to him anymore, ever again. And then I ripped the chain off his neck that he had taken from me a couple of years earlier and always wore, like a trophy. I tucked it into my pocket, told him to back the fuck off, and walked away. I wasn’t scared, but I was ready for something to happen. I didn’t figure he’d let me walk away unscathed. But he did. Or so I thought.
For the next three years, he continued his random phone calls to friends, and following anyone I dated. He would have the other girlfriends call any guy that showed interest in me, and have them talk shit about me and threaten them if they didn’t leave me alone. It worked on some. One was actually run off the road a few times. And he continued to have me watched. I would find cigarette butts in the bushes at the edge of the yard, near the fence. Every now and then someone would mention that they had heard from him.
Then, one day, it stopped. I don’t know if he’s alive or dead. I am a little unnerved at the thought that someone will read this and know who I am talking about. That he might find out. I realize that luck was definitely on my side. It really is nothing short of a miracle that he didn’t hurt me, very badly. I am lucky that I walked away.
Sometimes I will have a dream and he will be in it. I don’t like it when that happens. Dreams have power. Words have power, too. I haven’t spoken his name in 25 years.
I am lucky that I walked away.
Kelly is a wife and mom and somewhat responsible adult. She lives in Tennessee, has a troubling affection for glam metal and uses sarcasm liberally. You can find her tales of adventure and intrigue as The Queen of Evil on Facebook , on the blog she often forgets she has , and on Twitter were she never tweets because she still can’t get past her passive aggressive feelings about it
You are a tough chick. I think he expected to break you and have you fall into his control trap, but you didn’t allow it. I still wonder why as teenagers, when we know something is bad, we don’t just walk away. I had a similar experience. I didn’t even like the guy, but I let him manipulate and control me for almost two years. When I finally ended it, he couldn’t believe it.
It makes me scared for my daughter. I only hope she will make better choices than her mom did. We need to share these stories with our daughters and let them know about these quiet controlling types. Thanks for sharing it here.
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I totally credit the naivety of youth for keeping me safe. There were so many times that I should have been hurt or in trouble … and somehow I miraculously came out unscathed. I have a son, and I am terrified of him growing up and facing weird, scary situations like that. Making the right choices, etc. Thanks for reading. And for thinking I am tough. I am more hard shell, ooey gooey center. 🙂
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That’s the best kind of tough. Like a good piece of chocolate.
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UGH. This brought back so many memories from my *people pleaser* days when I let idiots influence my every move. I wasn’t as strong as you. I didn’t have a backbone, and wasn’t sure of myself. I did have relationships that I kept secret, but my mom found out anyway.
You are tough and smart. I think every woman has a *that one asshole guy I dated far too long* story. it’s unfortunate that it seems to be some sort of rite of passage for women, but I guess if you date an asshat, it helps you learn what you need to look for in a man.
Great post.
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Thanks Beth! I look back on teenage me and wish I had a little bit more of that backbone these days. Now I tend to try not to make waves more often than not. Not people pleasing exactly, but more of just not wanting drama and trying to just go along and get through it. But maybe it’s time for me to be a little more vocal and drama be damned. I have mellowed a bit with age, but I need a little bit of my moxie back!
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yeah, I’m a no waves person myself. Or a drama-free zone, as Lizzi says. 🙂 I only make waves when it’s damn important.
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Hi QoE! Thank you for sharing this post with me and letting me share it here. I think avoiding drama when it’s unnecessary is a mark of maturity. You just have to know when to say enough. You have plenty of moxie!
I hope…hope…I can keep the channels of communication open with my own daughter so I can be there if and when she faces something like this.
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Thanks for taking my long rambling words and making them something cool. You rock as an editor! I will admit, I was praying for a boy, just because I knew what I was up to as a kid, and I was not prepared to field that as a parent. At least now I only have to worry about the one penis. I hope I will be the parent that is open and able to communicate with my kid. My mother’s sex speech consisted of one word – Don’t. As you can see, that wasn’t very effective.
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“at least now I only have to worry about the one penis.” Not quite a t-shirt. Maybe a coffee mug. Yeah, that “don’t” thing. Not super effective.
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As a father, I had to keep stopping my thoughts of “I would so kick that guy’s ass” from running through my mind. That said, I suppose we all have those relationships early in our lives that help define us as adults — and hopefully prepare us to recognize those who bring us happiness. Without question, the mistakes I’ve made in the past made it easy for me to recognize what I love so much about my wife today. I’m so glad you not only survived, but lived.
But I’d still SO kick his ass…
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He was NOT a nice guy, so I’d like to think that at some point he got his ass kicked but good. Hopefully with a nice stretch at a federal institution.
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I’d like to think so. And maybe a stint as someone’s “special virgin” in prison, too.
I’m sorry, I’m generally pretty easy going. But there are a couple of things I have zero tolerance for. He and his kind happen to be one of them.
Now… where did I put my damned Happy Place?!?
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This post sends a chill through me. You sound like you were a confident, self assured young woman. And yes, incredibly lucky to come out of this unscathed. But the idea of what could have happened? This guy has psycho stalker sociopath written all over him. I hope he ended up in jail. The thought of him out there, preying on other girls or women is a scary one indeed. Thank you for sharing this with us. You’ve just confirmed that I need to convert to being Amish before my girls are dating age..
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I do wish I knew what happened to him, where he ended up. But I am not going to go looking. The last thing I want is to actually find him. *shudder*
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Interestingly enough, after this crazy relationship, I went on a bit of a boy binge. I went through a LOT of them. Even dated best friends, at the same time. A class ring on each pointer finger. We were always together, all three of us. It was like a weird threesome except we kept the sex separate. Maybe I’ll share that one one day. It’s less violent and just way more emotionally messed up. Yay.
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You were stronger than he thought! It’s hard to deal with that at such a young age. I had a similar situation at a young age and it took me years to stop berating myself for letting the ‘guy’ into my life. But when we’re so young, we’re naive. Although, you sound pretty tough. 🙂 Great share and makes us want to hold our daughters tight!
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Thank you Lisa! It’s one of those things that makes me who I am. But if I had it to do all over again, I am pretty sure I’d change it all. Maybe.
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Powerful message in this post. Such strength and courage at such a young age. Mathair always taught me to stand my ground with users. Unfortunately it took getting knocked on my ass and picking myself up to learn that lesson. People pleasing and going with the flow is an instinct of mine that I find myself regressing to quite often. It’s examples like this and wonderful people that are willing to share their experiences that give me the inspiration to break away from things I know are bad for me. Great post! 🙂
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Thank you! I tend to slide more toward people pleasing as I get older. Writing this made me realize that.
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This is chilling. I am so glad it’s over for you.
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It’s funny. Even writing this, I still don’t see it as being as terrible as others do. I guess because I have made light of it for so long. And probably because I have read other’s stories of survival that involve things MUCH worse than this. And, I was a kid. So much bounced off me at that age, but I guess things sis leave more of a mark than I realize. And honestly, I left so much out. Like the time I went to visit him in the locked psych ward. Because he chose that over jail time. Or so he said. I have no idea what the real deal was. But he was in total control of that whole ward. The nurses deferred to him. That was pretty scary. And it was obvious that I was VERY young and he was much older. Yet no one said a word about us being left alone together. I am glad I made it through and can have a sense of humor about it.
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Yes, you are very lucky and tough! I had a similar experience and I found out that they guy did actually die a couple of years ago. I have to admit I was extremely relieved. Great post! 🙂
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I bet you were. I am relieved that I seem to have fallen off the radar and stayed off. But it would be nice to know that he was no longer around.
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This is just another of those cases where I find it impossible not to be embarrassed about being a man. I mean, not that there aren’t a lot of crazy women running around out there… but it just bugs me the way the anonymity of communication nowadays makes it so easy for a twisted mind to mess with people… and how hard it is to convict a person of a crime for this level of invasiveness… and how much I really want to punch this guy right in the garbanzos… which probably wouldn’t help… sigh…
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Thank you for reading. I think the part that really bothers me the most is that this took place in the late 1980s, so for him to have that level of knowledge about my daily activities is … unnerving. There was no FB back then. No texting. He put in the work to track me. Or had others track me, I guess. Maybe that’s why I am hesitant with technology today. I don’t want to be that easy to find.
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Technology is a two-edged sword… thanks for sharing. You handled it with strength and wisdom.
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You are tough and I’m very glad that you are. I had one of these. The story is only different in the details. I got away from him in a very lucky break and heard some horrifying stories about what he had done to another girl. Every once in a while, even 30 years later I will smell a cologne on someone that is similar to the one he wore and I will remember. And like you, I realize I’m lucky I walked away.
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On our first real “date”, he swiped a tiny sample bottle of Coco by Chanel from the department store display and gave it to me. To this day, the smell of that perfume makes me queasy. And grateful to be here.
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