Monday, May 30, 2011

A Case Study.

Read this post first.


When the song first came out, one of the people I went to high school with posted on Facebook that it was not about love because real love could never be like that.

I had to hide the post because I didn't want to argue over it with someone I now only know through (presumably mutual) Facebook stalkage.  

Real love isn't like that; real love is about mutual respect and adoration, blah blah blah. 

Maybe real love is supposed to be like that, yes.  But, unfortunately, that's not always how it works out.

Sometimes you can love someone so much you don't realize how deeply and horribly wrong your relationship has become.  Sometimes, love makes people volatile.  If love was everything it was supposed to be, we wouldn't have hate crimes, cheating, or spousal abuse. 

Haven't you seen Purple Rain?  Love draws you back in.

When a certain type of person falls in love with another person, they want to own them and control them.  That way they will never leave. 

Bambi was adopted.  His parents divorced when he was little and he was forced to endure a neverending parade of "aunties" every time he stayed at his dad's house, and his mom worked constantly just to be able to keep a roof over their heads and food in at least his mouth. 

He grew up desperately needing attention.  He became involved in sports, which he was apparently very good at, but he sustained several injuries over the course of the years and by the time I met him (he was 25) he had the health issues of someone twice his age.  His mom did everything she could to be there for him.  She always thought he was the best at everything.  That adoration, coupled with pretty much being ignored by his self-absorbed father, gave him false confidence. 

By false confidence, I mean he acted like hot shit most of the time, but really needed constant praise to feel any self-worth.

As a result of his less-than-perfect childhood (I'm not trying to blame anyone by saying that; most kids nowdays are forced to grow up lacking something, especially as the result of divorce.  However, in cases of adopted children, it seems pretty important for parents to have very strong relationships in order to adopt, or single parents who can provide for the child they desperately want should be able to adopt more easily.  Unfortunately, this was not the case for his family; his mom made sure she was able to get him while she was married to his father, stuck it out for a little while, then divorced him.  She remarried when he was fifteen and he ultimately grew up with several terrible [and alcoholic] father-figures), he not only constantly strove to gain affection from everyone, he also was constantly searching for the one thing that would never desert him.

He tried to identify with musicians and professional athletes on a personal level, beyond just enjoying their performances.  He wanted to know them, in some cases even be them.

He couldn't find himself.  I'll never know how aware of it he was becuase of that, but he spent much of his time trying to feel accepted by groups of people who were really awful because he felt like he was more a part of their seedy lifestyle than worthy of becoming a creature of life and light.  (By that I don't mean God.  I mean a productive member of society as opposed to someone who constantly sits in a bar, does drugs, and allows the lowest members of society to push them around.)  He was incapable of truly becoming an adult.

When I first met him, he was one of the sweetest, cutest, shyest boys I'd met.  And I was in a very vulnerable and lost place in my life.  I was 20 and intended to transfer to Southern Oregon University, but really didn't want to go.  I didn't know myself.  I didn't know what I wanted. 

The only thing he knew he wanted was me. 

After a few months, I decided to stay and keep my accounting job, which was actually an excellent job, especially considering my age and limited work history.  Once I'd decided to stay, he started to test me.  He would fight with me over nothing.  Fight with me all the time.  Do anything in his power to get me into his bed because that was the only way he said he could re-establish the connection between us. 

At the time, I fell for it.  I believed him because I was young and naive.  I believed him because no one had ever looked at me with as much love and adoration as his brown eyes could sometimes hold.

I fought to keep him in my life. 

It was like I passed his test by doing so. 

I loved him unconditionally, as I always tend to do.  (Why love with conditions? No one should have to conform to something they are not, something someone else wants them to be, in order to be loved.  Love is not control over another person.  I would know.)

He became addicted to me.  Dependent on me.  And I just didn't see it.

He convinced me to move into a one-bedroom apartment with him.  I loved that apartment.  It was perfect.  And for a while, I loved living there with him. 

For a while.

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