The first time

I remember the first time that I left. It was April of ’08. I don’t remember exactly what happened – why we were fighting – but I’m sure that I can go back and find e-mails that would give me a clue.  I remember him demanding that I leave work and come home, so I did.  I remember that it was raining, and he came out to the car.  He took the keys away from me so that I couldn’t go anywhere with “his” car.  For some reason I had already had bags packed – I think that I had been trying to leave a couple of days before.  He went in, got the bags, set them out in the rain, and left me to my own devices.  I called my friend Nikki to come and get me, which she willingly did.  He left with his daughter, and I snuck back into the house to get other things such as my toiletries and my laptop. 

Nikki came, we had dinner with her parents, and then she drove me to my parents house.  It was a long night of fights over e-mail.  Demands that I bring “his” laptop back or he was calling the police.  Threats of every sort imaginable.  When my baby brother got home from work, he drove me to WalMart so that I could buy some of the things that I would need, including blank CD’s so that I could retain the files that I needed from the laptop.  I was truly afraid of being thrown in jail over it.  After all, the receipts were in his name. 

I was only at my parents house for a couple of days.  He convinced me to let him come over, because there was something about his family that he had to talk to me about.  I of course assumed the worst, because that’s how I can be.  When he arrived it had nothing to do with family.  He presented me with the diamond engagement ring that he had never given me.  He begged my forgiveness and wanted me to come home.  And he did this all in front of his daughter. 

I was overcome with joy and relief that he had finally seen how unreasonable he was being.  I really thought that he was going to be better now.  He obviously loved me because, well, look at the rock that was on my finger now.  How could I not go back to him?

If only I had known then what I know now.  Maybe I wouldn’t have gotten myself to this point.  But, alas, hindsight is 20/20.

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2 Responses to The first time

  1. Aestas says:

    Mine bought me a beautiful ring and tried to propose. I said no. He was shocked that I hadn’t accepted–he really couldn’t believe, despite how awful everything was, that I would turn him down. I told him we could work on things and that he should ask again later, when things were better, but he sent the ring back to punish me. I think he thought I would stop him from sending it back and accept it after all, but I didn’t. It was just one more thing that helped me see who he really was. Someone who really loved me wouldn’t have bought an engagement ring only to return it; he would have been committed to making things right. And sure enough, just a month or two later (and after I left him), he was with someone else. I thank god every day that I said “no.”

  2. Barbara says:

    Ah yes. He was exhibiting ‘abuser’s remorse’ and supplying you with a ‘gift of guilt’! And it worked—then!
    You are much smarter now, thank God!

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