[CLOSED FOR SUBMISSIONS] Stronger than You 2017

Part 11: LGBTQ+ Voices

Written by: Anonymous

When I first met Daniel he couldn't look me in the eyes. Not because he's awkward or socially inadequate, but because out of the two of us my personality mostly overshadowed his and he was always too cautious to submit to his real feelings. A lot of the time in dangerous love stories it's the retiring character who seems to be on the receiving end of the abuser, but in life there is no "type". They're either abusive or they're not.

Like any story you'll read in this collection it started off "well". I had no real warning signals from Daniel in the years I'd known him and worked with him. Sure, he wasn't perfect, but he actually never pretended to be. He could be a little selfish with his free time, a little irrationally paranoid, and his humour wasn't exactly mainstream, but after we got used to each other we clicked. He had a strange, subverted way of caring, but it was definitely there, and he always made a beeline to hang out with me alone at work. Subconsciously I did the same. We flirted a lot, but mostly meaninglessly. We were never often serious when we chatted and I always looked forward to my work shift when I knew he would be there. I knew he felt the same.

My mum would always joke that I had a "type", and Daniel was the damn poster boy. People used to joke that we were made for each other because we were, quote, "both a little weird".

After a long period of denial Daniel finally admitted (in his usual round-about way) that he wanted to give a serious relationship a shot. In his own words it was, "If I had to date one person I guess it'd be you." That's Daniel-speak for: "You've stolen my heart, please be mine." I couldn't believe a guy like Daniel would have even let our years of painful flirting finally sway him.

Why? Because I'm also a boy.

It was slow moving, but that suited us both. We weren't one of those cute couples that people slap the hashtag #goals onto. We'd been friends for a long time so the transition for us as lovers took some adjustment, but we got there. We were solid mates underneath it all, though, and he would always take care of me in a sort of distant, non-smothering way. I appreciated that, because neither of us were needy. We didn't exactly live in each other's pockets, so we never got on each other's nerves. Ever. Unlike some works of dangerous romance fiction there wasn't any underlying inequality between Daniel and I. I was his equal and he was a true partner to me in every sense of the word.

But one January his life took a hit, and it would be a long time before I discovered the extent of it. Initially, Daniel handled the change in his circumstances like a pro. He didn't feel the need to involve anybody else in his problems, not even his parents, which might've been his first major mistake. It was subtle at first; from being moody over failing his driving test and more so after falling badly in a work accident and injuring his back.

His comments sometimes became snippy, especially about housework, and he'd roll his eyes if I made a stupid joke or rolled off one of my "facts" that any good friend of mine just kindly puts up with. Most often I'd try and cheer him up if his mood turned south, but I didn't know what was causing his mood swings. His jabs became more and more frequent, but I didn't exactly stand around and take it. An abused partner is not a voiceless one and it's wrong to assume that we can't, in general, stand up for ourselves.

Daniel was hiding a huge secret and it affected every day of his life. I won't go into the details of it because, while he wronged me in severe ways, it's not my place to tell that side of this story. Just know that it was crippling him and I wouldn't wish it on anybody else.

Eventually though, Daniel's problems got so on top of him that his snippy comments evolved into daily insults. I didn't recognise it for what it was, either, because the progression to emotional abuse is so gradual, as it often is. Being my friend first and foremost, it hurt so much more when he criticised me because he knew exactly what to say to upset me. He'd intentionally jab at me about my dog (he's a rescue dog -- he makes mistakes), or my hygiene (which is fine, by the way, my job is just dirty), and often put me down with words like: "you're not even as smart as you think you are". He'd say that all I ever do is stay up and write, but never do anything productive. He'd scoff at my jests and tell me they don't make sense. He'd make accusations about me spending money on things I didn't need. He'd constantly make remarks about how the house and bed always "stank" of me, because, as you can well imagine, being a mechanic isn't a clean job. I tried pretty hard to keep up with dog-training, to always smell nice, to deprive myself of "wants" and only buy "needs". He robbed me of laughter and of confidence in myself. That isn't to assume I mean in terms of looks or particularly of intelligence, but instead he made me doubt every decision I made. I lost confidence that I could be in the driving seat of my everyday life, and that if things didn't go his way that day, it was my fault.