I just discovered a scrapbook I’d made in college that consisted of pictures, letters, stories, and miscellaneous memorabilia of boys I dated or crushed on. Upon reading it, I noticed a pattern in which I ended up in abusive relationships. The last entry has no story added, but the photos and memorabilia pretty much give it away and are a painful reminder of stupid mistakes I’ve made.
I was about 25 years old when I moved to a college town to pursue my professional degree. The very first people I met were my neighbors, a brother and sister that lived directly across the street with their parents. Both were very friendly and helpful, and we quickly became friends. I went against my better judgment when I started seeing Rocky (he was 19) as more than just friends. There was a lot of chemistry, which I still to this day think is rare in relationships. But he also had a good side to him that was cute and loving, or maybe it was just manipulation.
Why I said against my better judgment is this: Rocky was an alpha male, a high school dropout, his mother enabled him to take no responsibility for his own actions, and it turned out he was a drug addict and thief. He was employed, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t have to pay bills since he lived at home. I didn’t know all of this at first, as I was so busy with being a mom, my studies, work, and what social life I could manage to fit in. I was also extremely naïve, had very little romantic relationship experience, and I trusted people that were nice to me.
Long story short, Rocky and I had amazing sex… probably the best I’d had at that point in my life, and he’d taught me things I didn’t know. I don’t remember many details about it now; I just remember what kept me opening my door to him (no pun intended) besides the loneliness of being in a new place and knowing no one. Things got pretty heated in other ways that ended the relationship altogether.
I’m pretty certain that Rocky stole money from me, since he knew where I hid it, as he thought my student loans were “free money,” and I suppose he thought he was also entitled to it. He cheated on me the same night I had a dream about him being with another woman (next day he had a hickey on his neck). He took me out on one actual dinner date to a restaurant that I would never have chosen. Another time we went to a club (I always drove, since he didn’t have a car)… Now for the funny part – I had $20 on me, which in the late 90s was enough for me to have a pretty good time at a club for the entire night. He didn’t have money on him, so he asked to hold my money to buy my drinks so he didn’t look like a fool. Obviously, he was embarrassed, so I gave it to him.
Rocky was a jealous guy and once after being out with a girl friend for the night, he literally got down on his knees and sniffed my crotch like a dog to see if I’d been with another man. Another time, I got fed up with his shit and told him that I did meet someone else (whether or not it was true, I can’t remember) and asked Rocky how he tasted. Rocky went into a rage, punched out my window, threatened to burn my house down and destroy my car. I called the police, he was issued a trespass warning. Stupid, naïve me gave in to him a few weeks or months later. The final straw was when I found out he’d been smoking crack. Yes, crack… with his mother, and he’d borrowed my car to buy it. I was fuming!! On this particular night, he was high and proceeded to choke me until I almost passed out. I knew then that it was the end, he was arrested and the judge ordered him not to come within 500 feet of me for life. In case you’re wondering, the last page of the scrapbook was the actual restraining order.
Once I graduated college, I moved from the area and never heard from him again. I did some digging years ago, because that’s just what women do, and learned that he’d served some jail time for dealing in stolen property. Some things never change!