Okay, so someone recently asked me to do a thing for Valentine's Day. I decided why tf not because,,,,,I'm bored??? I don't know. They asked if I could share my two break up stories and why they have made me so insecure with myself/unable to trust others easily. Now this topic is sort of sensitive to me, especially since how the two relationships I've ever had were toxic and ended with me in the dirt, so I might show a little discomfort in my writing because of it. So here goes the two relationships that have shaped me into the self-deprecating being I am today.
My first relationship
(end of 7th grade-some of 8th. We lasted over the summer and a few weeks into our last year of Middle School. This happened four years ago)
My first relationship, I was optimistic, excited, happy to have someone who really liked me. Let's just say his name was Raymond, I don't want to disclose his real name so I don't call him out, even though he does deserve it. He was originally from Sweden and had been going to the school for three or four years at that point. His personality was one that matched my own, and by that I mean he was a fun person to be around. Jokes were a constant thing with him and absolutely nothing was awkward because he made it comfortable.
He originally asked me out at the end of class and I didn't answer, a few days later I confronted him and told him yes. Shit got awkward.
Now as I said before, this was my first relationship and I was scared, scared of messing up and scared of physical contact. I couldn't even hold the boy's hand because of how touch starved I was. And he respected that.
That changed rapidly.
Soon enough he got frustrated with the fact I was taking so long to let him touch me, and I was getting closer, I really was. It was just not at his desired pace.
Raymond was very,,,,,touchy.
I say this for good reason. When he would touch me, it wouldn't be a brush to the hand or the face, or even the arm. He went straight for the upper thigh.
The first time this happened was at lunch, I was eating and talking to my friends. Everything was well and I was laughing, having a good time joking around about random things. It was serene, domestic, comfortable.
Then I felt it.
Keep in mind that he hadn't touched me at all beforehand, this was the first time.
A hand slid from my knee, then it slowly slid up. I got scared. I legitimately froze and stopped breathing. Why was he doing this? I told him I didn't feel comfortable yet, we had only been dating for two weeks. I needed to be eased into it.
I pushed his hand away. One
"Stop"
"Why?"
"Just stop"
"Awe you're blushing"
The hand came back. I pushed it away again. Two
"What's wrong?"
"I don't feel comfortable, please stop"
"..."
It came back again, except it was a lot higher and more forceful, he wasn't lightly brushing my mid-thigh. He was squeezing my upper thigh, to the point it hurt me.
I shoved his hand away again. Three
"Why are you being such a prude!"
That was the first time I was subjected to peer pressure, and it wouldn't be the last time either.
A month passed and I slowly sunk into letting him hug me and hold my hand, it felt nice to have someone to touch. Once again I was touch starved.
Then the messages started.
At this time in my life I didn't understand what sexting was, nor did I know a lot of sex terms. So when I was subjected to it, I didn't understand.
"You looked adorable"
"You're so sweet, thank you <3"
"But I think you would look even cuter in my bed ;))"
"What?"
"You know;)"
I don't feel comfortable typing the rest because it was very vulgar and honestly disgusting, I didn't understand what was going on so I told him to stop. He didn't.
It seemed he didn't listen to me at all.
Summer came and we were only able to text, we just talked about random thing like his dog and how his day went. I enjoyed it.
Then Band Camp came.
I wasn't in Band as of yet, but Raymond was, he played in the Brass section.
Let's call this other girl in the Brass section Terry
"I just wanted to tell you this, since you and Raymond are dating. Terry has a crush on him"
"Oh, okay. I trust him, it's no big deal"
And it wasn't, I trusted him and trusted this girl to respect the fact he was in a relationship. That was a terrible decision on my part, but something I couldn't stop.
I had heard rumors that Raymond had kissed Terry during a practice, I brushed it off and texted Raymond about this little crush thing. I was slowly starting to worry, what if she takes him away? What if she's prettier than me? What if she's more popular than me?
Raymond: "Don't worry, I don't like her. I love you and I always will only love you. Remember that, I swear to you nothing is going to happen :)"
That same night, something happened.
I had just gotten out of the shower, excited to check my phone to see if my boyfriend had texted me. He had.
"I think we should break up, I'm just not happy with this relationship. You don't make me happy or satisfied, I need someone who is willing to let me do what I wish. Please don't talk to me tomorrow"
I'm not going to sugarcoat it, I cried.
I cried over how hard it was for me to let my walls down, I cried over how he could just say that I didn't make him happy, I cried over the fact i was always put last, I cried over how I always mess shit up.
I suffered alone, I went to school the next day with no sleep and red eyes. I obeyed Raymond's wishes and left him alone.
The day after we broke up he was with Terry, the girl he told me not to worry about. The girl who singlehandedly snatched away the thing that made me happy. The girl who broke us up so she could get what she wanted.
It hurt.
It hurt so fucking bad.
I texted him that night, asking for a reason. A reason why I didn't make him happy and why he left.
I wish I hadn't.
He told me I wouldn't let him touch me, and that I just wasn't worth all the effort. Terry let him touch her. Terry made him happy. Terry had been cheating with my boyfriend for over six weeks.
Six weeks he had been smiling at me, telling me he loved me, telling me I mattered to him. Six weeks he had been sneaking behind my back to go make out in a closet with another girl, calling her beautiful, telling her I don't really matter to him.
That's when my self-confidence hit rock bottom, he texted me afterwards telling me about how shitty I was.
I let time go.
I healed.
That didn't last long.
My second relationship /last one I've had (end of 9th grade into 10th)
Lets call this guy Cesar.
I had a huge ass crush on Cesar, HUGE.
I noticed him when I started Band, he was in the drum line and I thought he was really attractive and funny. He had a big smile and beautiful eyes, a very light gray that matched a cloudy sky.
I carried that crush for an entire year, hiding it so others didn't notice.
Then a friend of mine let him know of my crush, he started texting me. We started off as friends, talking for a few weeks and getting to know each other. I loved speaking with him.
He asked me out. I said yes.
This would be different right? I would be happy?
It was different, but not a good different.
We would walk to school every morning together, holding hands once a little time passed in our relationship. He'd kiss the top of my hand like a gentleman and I loved it. He'd text me saying how pretty I looked. He even complimented me every morning.
He even made this cute little thing for our one month anniversary with compliments on the back of these pictures he took of me without noticing.
Cesar was great. Cesar was loving.
Cesar changed.
Compliments had stopped, they turned to insults I took lightheartedly.
"You're really pale"
"Why is your hand so sweaty?"
"You look weird today"
"That drawing is shitty"
Another reason why I hate my art today.
Cesar began doing what Raymond did, pushing himself onto me. I hadn't had my first kiss, and he ended up trying at the end of our first date. I dodged it.
A week passed and he tried again, I sucked up the anxiety and fears and pushed forward. We kissed.
I felt nothing, and that scared me. In fact, it was gross, it wasn't appealing at all.
We separated and he did this cute little cheer, I was left with confusion and a nasty taste in my mouth. Something wasn't right.
I pecked him on the lips here and there, and it never got better. It was like a chore, to kiss him, and I got really fucking frustrated. So I avoided them.
He wasn't happy.
One time he tried to make out with me and I pushed him away, I had never made our wirh anyone. Still haven't. And I wasn't comfortable. Not with him.
Not when these weird feeling were happening.
He started targeting my insecurities in order to get me to give in.
"You need some sun"
"You have no ass"
"Have you ever thought of wearing makeup?"
I slowly slipped into depression and self deprecation.
Then the fateful day happened, the breaking point.
"You could go braless, you don't really have anything. I don't know why you wear one anyways, you're flat-chested"
I sucked in the tears and kept walking with him, my mom took us to his house to drop him off. He tried joking with me and asking what was wrong. I ignored him, because I was moments from breaking. I didn't want him to see me break, to see my walls crumble at my feet, to see just how broken I was on the inside.
He left, my mother pulled out the driveway. And I fucking broke.
I hadn't cried so hard in my life, voices screamed in my head that I was useless. Nobody loved me, I was never going to be enough was I?
I broke up with him that night.
That was the first time he had told me 'I love you'. And I clawed myself apart over it.
"Please don't do this, I love you"
"Why didn't you ever tell me? Why now?"
"I was scared"
"Well I'm scared of what you've become"
"Please"
"You had you're chance to say sorry, and you didn't. I hope you get everything you want, and I hope you have an amazing life"
"I love you"
That text still haunts me, I'm still hurt over it. Because I knew they were empty, no feeling behind them, just a last resort to make me stay.
To this day I still wake up in the middle of the night crying, because those comments haunt me.
So yeah, I'm broken. But I'm still here aren't I?
~Elizabeth❤️