I Don't Love Him, I do.

I don’t love him. Even though he’s everything a girl could ask for, smart, caring, funny, kind, I still don’t love him. I met him last year around this time. I was at the supermarket and we were both browsing through the bread aisle. He “accidentally” bumped into me and said hello, I reluctantly said hi back. He smiled and asked what my favorite type of bread was. I didn’t know people had favorite types of bread. I scrunched up my face in confusion and before I could answer him he apologized and I reassured him that it was fine. He asked for my number, I gave it to him and he asked me out. I said yes out of guilt, I wasn’t really in the dating scene at the time, I had someone else on my mind, but alas I went. He took me to this cute restaurant, we had casual conversation, drank wine, and laughed. Like the gentleman he was, he picked me up, paid for our meal and drove me home. It was fun, he was sweet but he wasn’t for me. I had always had trouble with guys, I’ve never been in a serious relationship before him, it wasn’t his fault I was just picky, and the dude from the bread aisle wasn’t gonna be my knight in shining armor. 

A few days later me and my friend Safia were in the car on our way to a movie. She was driving and I was in the passenger seat. A truck ran the light at the intersection, hitting us at full speed, killing Safia immediately on impact. I suffered a brain bleed, a broken arm, internal bleeding in my abdomen and sprained neck. I was in and out of surgery for two weeks and spent 4 days in a medically induced coma. I woke up in the hospital two weeks later to him sitting at my bedside. He was there the whole time, holding my hand waiting for me to wake up. To this day I don’t know how he found out I was there. I hadn't spoken to him since our date, but he found me. I was in the hospital for over a month, he was the first person I saw when I opened my eyes every morning. He fed me, clothed me, bathed me, and cared for me. I don’t know why, I barely knew him. I still don’t.

 When I got out of the hospital I was jobless and subsequently homeless, so he offered to take me in. I declined at first. I hated to be a burden but he insisted I come live with him and my doctor didn’t want me to stay alone, so I caved. He lived in this fancy skyline apartment with floor to ceiling windows and hardwood floors. From what I remember from our date he worked a big fancy job like accountant or something. Boring job, beautiful paycheck. I slept on the couch in his living room. It was cold, he had no art or décor, and felt lonely. The ugly green walks caved in on me day after day. He must've been lonely, because every second that he wasn’t at work he was tending to me, cooking me food, brushing my hair, changing my bandages. It was annoying, and kind of weird. I just wanted to be left alone, the one person I loved was dead and I blamed myself endlessly for it.

I forced Safia to go to that movie that night, she was tired and wanted to stay home but I just had to see moonlight for the 3rd time in theaters. She died because of me and I couldn’t forgive myself, I didn’t want to. I needed to carry the weight of killing my best friend with me forever, I deserved it. I spent the days alone mulling over my own grief and regret. The vomit green walls did nothing but send me deeper into my depression ,everyday was more painful than the one before. The emptiness swallowed me whole. When he'd finally left for work in the morning, I’d throw away whatever food he’d make for me and order something else. Afterwards I’d close the blinds, take 3 pain killers, turn on the tv and close my eyes. I usually woke to him hovering over me with more pills in his hand. Two antibiotics and one more painkiller. I’d take it and lay back down hoping he wouldn’t see the discrepancy between the amount of antibiotic and the amount of painkillers.

About 3 months later, he asked me why the painkillers finished so fast. I lied and said I had no idea, but I asked him to refill them. He said no. I asked again. No again. I decided I'd overstayed my welcome and started packing my things. I limped around his apartment grabbing what little belongs I had that he didn’t buy for me. He grabbed me and started talking about how he’s worried about me, and how he thinks I have a problem. Bull. I mean I did have a problem, but that’s not his business. I don’t know this man. He offered to let me in on his home, I didn’t ask to come here and now I want to leave. But I was homeless and had nowhere to go and he took care of me when no one else did. I broke down in tears and he held me while I cried, stroking my face and rocking me. I slept in his bed that night, intertwined in his arms. He was warm and I was so cold and lonely and I needed someone, anyone to feel something. I didn’t sleep the whole night.  

The next day we drove to the pharmacy and while he was in the toothbrush aisle secretly I refilled my pain killers. I also stopped at the liquor store while he was at the bank because he has no alcohol. When he was gone during the day and I was left to my own devices, I spent 99 percent of my time high out of my mind. I’d have a painkiller with my breakfast which he usually made for me, two more for lunch with a vodka soda, and a few more anytime I felt like it throughout the day. By the time he’d come home I was either passed out on the living room floor, or so intoxicated that all I could do was lay on the couch stare at that ceiling blankly. This is when it started. He’d come home, sit next to me on the couch and hold my hand or stroke my face and I was so beyond high that I fed into it. I was so lonely and just wanted to feel love, and the combination of vodka and Narcan made me lose all moral code. He was very clearly taking advantage of me but I didn’t care. I kissed him and touched him and slept in his bed. When I woke up the next morning naked and violently hungover I always regretted it. I didn’t like him, I didn’t love him, I loved Safia. I was in love with her before she died, I didn’t know it at the time, I still thought I was straight but I loved the way she talked, the way she said my name the way she laughed when I told a dumb joke like it was the funniest thing I’d ever heard. All of it, I loved all of her, and I never got to tell her. I was hurting so badly, physically mentally and emotionally and he was the only one there, but I didn’t want him there. I wanted Safia. I wanted to kiss her and touch her and sleep in her bed, entangled in her warm arms. When I laid with at night, I’d close my eyes and I could smell her perfume, feel her hair on my neck and I'd cry silently for her. She had so much life left in her and it was gone so quickly because of me.

When he found out about the alcohol, he was obviously not happy. I was blacked out when he confronted me about it so I don’t remember any of it. What I do remember is waking up on the bathroom floor next to a toilet covered in vomit. I pulled myself up off the floor and when I stared back at myself in the mirror I felt fear. Who was I? What had I done? How did I get here? I was terrified of myself, I had hit rock bottom. I went into the kitchen and looked under the sink for my stash. It was gone. He for some reason wasn’t at work and was in the bedroom waiting for me to wake up. He told me he poured it all down the drain, and then flushed the painkillers with my vomit. I threw a fit. I kept screaming “you don’t know me” while packing up my things, I called him names, threw stuff at him, broke glasses, and sobbed. I put on the biggest show but he still wouldn’t let me go. Why was he so obsessed with me? Why couldn’t he see that I was a lost cause and just let me go. Most people would blame my outburst on withdrawals and how badly addiction can mess you up, but I think my meltdown was justified. Who the hell is this guy telling me what's good for me and what's not? He keeps me locked away in this apartment isolated from the world and then tries to tell me what I can and cannot do. I was a prisoner in his house. He told me he loved me but I didn’t care. I didn’t love him back. When I got tired, and melted into the floor choking on my tears, he scooped me up and held me while I cried and fought him off. I kicked and pushed and screamed him off of me but he wouldn’t give up. “I love you”, “I know what's best for you”, ‘I just want you to be better”. I didn’t care. I hated him. I just wanted him to leave me alone.

When I got out of the rehab he forced me to attend, I moved back in with him. Not because I wanted to but because I had literally no other option. I hadn’t worked in months, I was depressed and had no support system. And he “loved” me, and wouldn’t let me go. I started permanently sleeping in his bed, per my request actually. The couch was very uncomfortable and I had lost the ability to fall asleep unless I was high, plus laying with his arms around me at night made sure I couldn't get up and be left to my own devices. I woke when he woke up, ate when he ate, I did everything with him so I could be held accountable. He kissed me every morning before he left for work and every night when he came home. I got a job at the grocery store so I could start saving to move out on my own. I told him it was because I wanted to be more independent and he said “you don’t need to go back to work if you have me” Such an douchebag move. I don’t want you and I sure as hell don’t need you. I asked him to repaint the living room and he yelled at me, he said I was ungrateful and that he did everything for me and the least I could do was be appreciative and not complain. I never asked him for anything again. We started going on dates again against my will, minus the wine. He always paid, always drove me home, and I repaid him in the only way I felt I could. Superficial love. It was like that for a while, and it worked for the both of us. I shut up and acted like his perfect little lady, and he took care of me. Until about two months ago.

 It was supposed to be a normal date night, he told me to wear something nice, we drove to this super fancy place uptown. We ate expensive steak and laughed and held hands. And then he stood up and got down on his knee. I didn’t know what to do, I panicked. Not only did he propose in public in front of the whole restaurant, but the ring was ridiculously expensive. I had no choice. We kissed and hugged and took pictures and got our free dessert. I couldn’t embarrass the both of us and say no. It was supposed to be sweet and sentimental but all I wanted to do was hide. While I laid in his arms that night I cried, but not for Safia, for me. For most women this is the dream. I don’t have to work, I don’t even have to cook, I have someone who loves and cares for me and wants to spend the rest of their life with me, what more could I ask for? But I was still so unhappy. I didn’t love him. I wasn’t attracted to him at all. I hated him if anything. He keeps me cooped up in this apartment and won’t let me leave, he manipulates me into feeling loved by him. I was sick of him and I wanted out. And I know he felt it too, I only kissed him when I was drunk, I only touched him when I was sad, I only loved him when it was convenient for me. We never went any where other than that same stupid Italian restaurant and I didn’t talk to him unless he needed something. But he didn’t care, he trapped me anyways. He looked like a hero to everyone in his life, saving the drug addict victim from homelessness and mental illness. A knight in shining armor. I made him look good, and a wedding was the perfect ending to our love story. And in a weird way I felt I owed him something. This man devoted the past 7 months of his life to me, I couldn’t leave after everything he did for me. I was stuck. I cried so loud that he woke up, and when I asked me why I said I was just so happy and proud of myself for turning life around, when in reality I was still in that dark place I was when I woke up in that hospital bed next to him.

Today is our wedding day, and I'm numb. I'm terrified of facing my reality at the altar. I’m not gonna be dramatic and run away, he spent a lot of money on this day for me. I won't do that to him. I’ve started drinking again, in secret of course. He wouldn’t put champagne in my bridal suit so I brought my own. He doesn’t have to know. I close my eyes while I’m getting my makeup done and think of Safia. I miss the way her hands feel in mine, the way hair falls onto her shoulders, the way she loved me. I don’t know if Safia had feelings for me too but I like to think that she did, and that she was too scared to tell me too because she didn’t want to ruin a friendship. It’s ok, I loved her regardless and I want to remember our relationship the way it was. Perfect. My mom helps me into my dress, and at this point I’m down half a bottle. She can smell it on me, I wish I cared but I don’t. She throws Listerine at me and sprays me up and down with perfume and scolds me, calling all types of names but I’m so drunk that I just laugh. Todays my wedding day and I don’t care what anyone says to me. I’m gonna pretend to be happy and marry my pretend husband and eat my pretend cake with my pretend family.

I’m dizzy on my way down the aisle. I stumble a little but my dad holds me up. When I make it to the top I look him in the eyes and I feel nothing. I’m so empty that it hurts. He’s crying and snotting all over the place and I just smile back at him. The pastor starts his spiel and I zone out for most of it, keeping that stupid smile on my face. He won’t stop crying. I can hear his mom sobbing in the back too. I wish everyone be quiet. The only thing I can think of right now is Safia. It should be her standing across from me, it should be her looking in my eyes, it should be her crying and snotting because she loved me. I still haven’t forgave myself. I would trade everything in the world for her to be here right now. I would trade my life for hers. I start to cry. How did I get here? I don’t love this man, I’m so unhappy I just want it all to stop. I start to snot. He chuckles at the sight of my tears and I hold back sobs. I look him in his eyes and smile. I wish I was dead. 

"Will you have this man to be your husband, to live together in holy marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?"

I do.