avoidance, violence, intimacy

I was in love with a man–he was avoidant.  I saw him in a domestic violence cycle with his long term partner.  It was avoidance, violence, intimacy.

avoidance, violence, intimacy

He would promise her a thing–then he wouldn’t follow through, which enraged her.  I think she read his lack of follow-though as proof that he didn’t love her.  She would get furious that she was being ignored.  Her needs were being ignored.

She would attack him out of anger and for attention–verbally, physically, or attack his property.  It worked.  He would pay attention, freak out, and often break up with her.  Time would pass.  Then they would talk and hug, and he would need her.  They would get back together, which was a domestic violence process they did over and over again.  Drugs just made it worse.

It was painful to watch, and scary because I loved him and was afraid he would end up in jail.  Or I was afraid she would hurt him to the point of killing him.  She didn’t want him dead–she wanted him alive and loving her.  But violence can have unexpected results.


Then when he came here, supposedly broken up with her, he said he wanted to try out being family with me and my spouse.  I guess for him it was just a joke.  But for me, it was real.  I wanted him in my family, to love and inter-depend with.  I wanted to be vulnerable and real with him, with mutual support long-term.

Seemed like a great idea–he needed a safe place to be after breaking up with his ex, and we could give that to him.  I needed a bigger family, and I was in love with him.


A weird thing happened his first full day here.  We had a difficult conversation with a little conflict, initiated by me, and he wanted a hug at the end.  The hug lasted a long time, and I didn’t want to let go.  After the hug, he grabbed at his pants, like an erection was making him uncomfortable.  I politely ignored that grabbing, thinking his erection was not my business unless he wanted it to be.

Then that night, he welcomed me to his bed, we had sexual contact, and the visit went downhill fast from there.  The next day he told me had a girlfriend back home (not the multi-year abuser girlfriend–a new lady), and that was that.  He rejected me, and I just about lost my mind.

I had no idea he would fly 3000 miles to use me like countless teenage boys did, when I was a kid.  He broke my heart worse than ever, after we’d been close friends for a long time.

Why did he think that would go over well?  Obviously he didn’t care.  I wasn’t a valuable, solid friend who mattered to him as a heart connection–I was a silly woman to use, as all women exist for his idle amusement via poor impulse control and erratic selfish fuckery.

I wouldn’t treat anyone like that.  He was just trying me out, and I didn’t pass the test.  He had no serious intentions with me or anyone.  His whole life consists of using people.  But I was in love with him–I feel emotions at a 10 out of 10.  I couldn’t pretend everything was ok after that, like he wanted me to, so he could keep using me without consequences.

I won’t do the avoidance, violence, intimacy cycle.  No one can pull me into that.


My spouse recently summed it up: the visitor was scheming the whole time he was here, trying to set up his next situation.  I heard him talk on the phone with his mom about housing, and talk with a friend up in the pacific northwest about housing.  He applied online to be a substitute teacher back home.  He was looking for the next place with his next victims, to use anyone and everyone.

When he rejected me I could have responded with anger, but I’m not like that.  I don’t want to violence anyone.  My pain turned inward, and that’s why his harm was so dangerous for me.  I stopped being able to sleep; I was out of my mind.  Easily I could have ended up in the hospital.

But if I had violenced him, he might have wanted me!  That was the pattern he was used to with his long time abuser girlfriend.  He needed the drama.  The erection after our difficult conversation and hug showed me that conflict was desirable, for him.

If I’d violenced him, I would have proven myself a good replacement abuser-girlfriend.  Maybe I could have taken over.  But of course I would never want to do what my parents did, or what my brother and his wife did, or what my grandparents did.  I come from a family of domestic violence with addiction.  No way am I going to live that nasty life.


What is family?  I want people who I can relax with and be totally real with.  People who I have their back, and they have mine.  Close dear ones who we know one another almost as well as we know ourselves.  People to cook with, play with, rest with, and build happy lives.

For him, family is the people you use until they hate you, and then use some more.  The people who give you a thousand chances, no matter how badly you treat them–who allow you to exploit them indefinitely.  People you can manipulate for decades because you share problems, genes, ancestors, memories, pasts, addictions, shame.

I’m glad I figured out how to say no.  His vision of family doesn’t win over mine.  I see now that he’s a common creep, and the lady back home who was his partner for years is just as much a creep as he is.

That’s why they “love” each other, I suppose.  Decent folx like me and my spouse get away.

By Nest

Curious, disabled Earth Goddess, telling the truth.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *