But I Stuck Around

In our beginning, he was the greatest guy I could only have in my dreams. He would do all the little things, like holding the door open for me, opening my car door, laughing at my jokes—even if they weren't funny, give me his jacket when I was cold, and cuddle me to sleep. Those moments were significant to me.

We had a lot of fun together. Oh, the adventures we went on. For his birthday the first year we were together, I bought tickets to go on a chocolate tasting tour at Hershey Park in Hershey, Pennsylvania because he loved chocolate. I also got him a customized jersey with his name on the back of his favorite team. I would drive all over to go to his hockey games. I would set my schedule at work to make sure I could be there to cheer on my favorite guy. We would go to museums, hiking, kayaking, and other little adventures. We had always talked about hiking the West Coast. I was so happy with him.

He would make me laugh all the time. His laugh always made me laugh harder. When I was having a hard day, he'd turn music on and dance to cheer me up. He would look at me with such admiration; it made my heart melt every time he looked at me like that. But suddenly, something in him changed.

We were almost a year into our relationship when he started talking to his ex-girlfriend again. I remember we were having a great weekend, and I wanted to send myself the pictures of us he had taken on his phone. When I unlocked his phone, she was the last person he had been talking to. He was telling her he was thinking about her, wondered what it would've been like if they were still together, and then I read "I miss you." That day, I felt my heart sink to my feet, and it stayed there. I confronted him about it when he got out of the shower. He said he was sorry, he didn't know why he said those things to her; he didn't mean them.

I went back to work at my summer job while he went back to his, a four-hour drive between us. We didn't do much more than small talk for the first two weeks when I finally said we needed to talk about what happened. He said he knew what I was going to say—I was going to leave, and he didn't blame me.

I didn't. I forgave him.

We would visit each other now and then throughout the summer when we had time. Nothing felt the same between us. I couldn't trust who he was talking to. I couldn't believe he didn't mean what he said to her. I couldn't bring myself to forgive and forget. But, I stuck around.

School started again in August. He moved into his new apartment. I moved back home. I helped him move into his place, but I still wasn't entirely over it. How could I be? My boyfriend was thinking about and missing another girl.

We began to fight a lot. We couldn't get along. I tried so hard to forget, and I guess the truth is, I never forgave him. I didn't know how to. We didn't talk about it. Any time I brought it up, he would shut it down. How could I feel better if we avoided talking about it?

We planned to go on Spring Break together. I gave him my money for it to turn into our travel agent. We had gotten into another fight, and he didn't talk to me for a few days. He called me over before work, sat me down with all my stuff boxed up, and my money in an envelope. He broke up with me.

I called off work. I couldn't stop crying. I cried for a week straight!

A week after we broke up, he took all of our pictures down. It was as if our relationship never existed. I didn't understand. Why would he do that?

Now and then, he would text me to check in on me. We'd talk for a little, but he would stop texting back. New Year's Eve he texted me about getting back together. We started hanging out again. But I knew his secret.

He got into a car accident. His parents called me to tell me he was okay, but I was in class taking a test, and I couldn't leave. By the time I finished my test, he was out of the hospital. I felt so bad; I went to stay the night with him to take care of him and do whatever he would need me to do. I wanted to be there for him. I wanted to take care of him. I wanted him to know I loved him through everything.

He recovered and went back to playing his hockey games. His friends would be there, and new friends started showing up. I would stay over after his hockey games. Sometimes, we would go to parties afterward. We were starting to have fun again.

It wasn't until one of his friends pulled me aside and said, "He's talking to someone behind your back. Be careful."

I already knew. I knew when she was at the hospital. I knew when she was posting she was at his games when we weren't together. I knew because he looked at her the way he used to look at me. But, I stuck around.

I kept it to myself because I thought, if I love him hard enough—if I try my very best—he'll love me again. So, that's what I did; I gave all I had to him.

We would go out drinking, and he would start calling me names. He would kick me out of his apartment. He wouldn't talk to me for days, sometimes for a week. He didn't treat me like he used to. He didn't care about hurting me because he didn't care about me anymore. He would say he was sorry, but it never felt like he was because he kept doing the same toxic actions.

We were out one time for a festival. We were having a great time until we got into the Uber from a brewery we were leaving. He was sitting next to me when he followed his ex-girlfriend again. He knew what he did and acted like what he did wasn't wrong. It was so hurtful to think this man still—almost two years of being together—thought of her and needed to see what was going on in her life. When we got back to our hotel, I cried myself to sleep on the couch while he slept in the bed. The next morning I had to pretend that night didn't happen because we were going house hunting.

Again, he said he was sorry. Again, I stuck around.

He stopped showing up for things for me. He stopped trying to be there for me. He didn't come to my family events. He didn't come to my honors dinner where I was receiving an honorable award. He didn't show up at a banquet where I was receiving another award.

One night, we were out to eat when he got a phone call from the other girl. He answered. She asked him to hang out. I told him I didn't want him to because I knew what was going on between them. We argued about it, and he went anyways. I didn't find out for a week that he went to see her after I asked him not to because I was uncomfortable. He didn't respect me enough not to go. He wanted to see her. For that week we didn't talk; I expected us to break up. But again, he was sorry. And I stuck around.

We got drunk that next weekend. He forced me to read the texts between him and her during the week he wouldn't return my texts. He was telling her all these horrible things about me and saying he never wanted to be with me. I was a mistake. He shouldn't have come back to me. He wanted to be with her. He confessed everything that happened between them, everything I already knew. He threw my stuff out of his room and said I wasn't allowed to stay there. I had a final the next morning in order for me to graduate college. I was too drunk to drive all the way home. It was 4 in the morning, and my final was in four more hours, so I slept in my car in the parking deck closest to the building I needed. I cried myself to sleep that night. But I stuck around.

We were finally graduating from college. This was the moment we were looking forward to. We had always talked about how things would be different after college—different in a good way. I was taking pictures with my family after walking across the stage when I saw him come down the stairs. He texted me later that he was proud of me and we needed to talk before he moved back home. I agreed to meet up.

We didn't want to break up. We wanted to work on things because after all, things were going to be different after college, right? I told him if we were going to make this work, he needed to give up contact with those two girls. He blocked them in front of me. We said we would work on ourselves to make this work. He went off on a trip, and we were starting to be happy with each other again.

We were getting along. I was gaining trust for him again. He said he thought about us moving in together. He said he saw us together in a year from then and that's why he bought me a cruise ticket with him and his family for his brother's graduation gift. I was happy with him again.

I was awful at making dates for us. I mistook a wrestling match for a baseball game, but we had fun anyway until I saw he unblocked those two girls. They were his top searches and not his girlfriend. We fought again. I made up a stupid lie to see if my gut feeling was right. We fought for two days until he broke up with me again.

We didn't talk for six months until he contacted me before New Year's Eve. He said he missed me and wanted to see me. On and off we would see each other. I got him a Valentine's Day gift. It was nice to talk to him again.

I wanted to know what was going to happen between us. He told me he didn't love me anymore and he was too busy for a relationship, so I told him to leave me alone. I was heartbroken. We stopped talking for a little while after that.

He reached out to me again and wanted to see me. We started hanging out again. It felt like I was coming home after a long vacation. I missed him. I missed his laugh. I missed his arms around me. I missed how comfortable I was around him. I missed the way he would say "I hate you" after I told a terrible joke. But again, he didn't want a relationship.

He broke my heart too many times to count. Loving him was exhausting. And when my friends ask me why I kept trying and why I still held out hope that it would be us in the end, I would say I didn't know. In the back of my head, I knew. I wanted the old him. I wanted the man he was when we first started dating. He was dragging me through Hell. I was on a constant roller coaster. But I thought, as long as he's by my side it can't be that bad, right? Wrong.

He kept me at bay to use me for his gain but would drop me like I didn't matter. He would hurt me regularly, and I would make excuses for his actions. My friends would tell me to leave, and I would say "I love him too much to let go," and they would tell me he didn't love me. "If he loved you, he would hurt you as much as he does. He would do anything to keep you happy."

I will always love the false image I had of him.

Loving him was exhausting. It was hard to love myself when the person I was with didn't love me. I would do everything I could for him. I would show up to his hockey games when I was supposed to work. I would send him links to help with his resume and his job search. I would try so hard for someone who couldn't care less if I was unhappy. I wanted him to love me again. I wanted him so badly. I would've given him my beating heart if he asked for.

The moral of the story is, "when you wear rose-colored glasses all the red flags just look like flags." – Wanda, Bojack Horseman

Don't ignore the red flags. You can love someone and care about them, but you don't need to keep that person in your life. It's draining to be in a one-sided relationship. Don't be like me. Don't let him take advantage of your forgiving heart. Don't stick around.