9781529032178

My confidence in my appearance was another story. I felt insecure about
my looks, and it didn’t help when Craig would zoom in on some feature—a
bit of cellulite, for example—and go on about it for weeks. The first time he
saw me naked in the shower he commented that I looked “like a midget
with huge boobs.” I took his disparaging remarks to heart, and at times
would even put myself down. Once, after I’d eaten too much and was
feeling fat, I asked him why he’d ever want to have sex with someone so
disgusting. Now most boyfriends—indeed, most people—would respond to
such a horrible moment of self-deprecation with something encouraging
like, “Marsha, how could you say such a thing? You’re gorgeous!”
But Craig simply replied, “You’re what there is right now.” It didn’t even
occur to him that his words might be offensive—as far as he was concerned,
he was just making an observation.
I did try talking to him about how hurtful he could be, a few times going
so far as to say that he seemed emotionally handicapped in some way. But
my words would go in one ear and out the other. There were occasions I’d
swear to myself that I couldn’t take his behavior anymore, and I’d work up
the nerve to say I was breaking up with him. But I was never able to follow
through. He’d tell me that he loved me and I’d let him convince me that we
should be together.
Did he love me? Maybe. He’d tell me so almost every day. I’d justify his
behavior, convincing myself that he wasn’t to blame, that he was brought
up without an example of a healthy relationship. His father was very
domineering and treated his mother badly. I became adept at rationalizing
that he “just didn’t know any better.” If his behavior was learned, I could
hope, think, possibly even expect, that he could unlearn it and change.
My denial required me to put up with a lot. Like his father, Craig was
very forceful. It was all about him. We always did what he wanted; his
opinions mattered more—in everything. He selected the movies we would
see and planned what I would cook. Even though he knew that décor is very
important to me, he decided we had to have a poster of Shaquille O’Neal in
the living room. The living room!
Because I was so deeply ashamed of the way Craig treated me—of the
way I let him treat me—I never met my friends in his presence. Time with
his friends was bad enough. I can be quite shy, and once, when we were out
with some people he knew, I was trying to break into the conversation with