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Ginger. According to Craig, she was perfect—smart, beautiful,
interesting, and sophisticated. The fact that they still kept in touch was
extremely difficult for me and made me feel unsure of myself. While he
was quick to build up Ginger, he was just as quick to belittle me,
especially when it came to my intellectual abilities. It killed me that he
thought that I was in some way slow. But I knew I was bright—after all, I
was a student at an Ivy League university—so I let it go.
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