Attached

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 an opinion. He interrupted the speaker: “Hey,
listen up, my ‘genius’ girlfriend wants to say something.” Another time,
at the beach, I asked him for a towel and he shouted, “Dry yourself in
the sun!” in front of everyone. These were just two instances. There
were many, many others. I kept asking him not to speak to me that
way, but eventually I gave up.
The one aspect of our relationship that made things bearable—and
allowed me to stay with him for so long—was that, despite his words,
Craig was very affectionate. We hugged a lot and would fall asleep
cuddling. The affection allowed me to pretend I was satisfied with our
sex life. Craig was the least sexual boyfriend I ever had, and the
comfort of the cuddling would reduce the pain of feeling rejected.
In my mind, I tried to compensate, but as time went on my thinking
became more and more distorted. I’d say to myself, “No one has a
perfect relationship, you have to compromise on something—if that’s
the case, I might as well be with Craig.” Since we’d been together for
several years, I “reasoned” that I should stop wasting time and get
married. Even after the terribly inappropriate comments he made when
I suggested the idea to him, including, “But that means I’ll never sleep
with a woman in her twenties again!” I still wanted to marry him.
Marriage was the one decision that I pressured Craig into. As soon
as he agreed, I knew it was a mistake. That was evident from the word
“go.” The ring he bought was unimpressive and the stones kept falling
out. What more of an omen did I need?
Our honeymoon in Paris was awful. We were together all the time
and I felt literally shackled to Craig. We had plenty of time to enjoy
ourselves, but Craig turned everything into a problem. He complained