I feel miserable. Remembering all that is causing so much pain. But in order to get over him I have to remember. I have to feel the pain. It is hard to digest the lack of empathy in some people, and I am here crying my feelings out.
I see him online on Whatsapp and think… Like he was with me. Deep down, intuitively comparing the frequency, I am hurting to think that he has moved on and it’s just day 5. This hurts more. Knowing that I, knowing that “us” perhaps meant nothing to him. Knowing that all that pain and effort, communication in-order-to build a strong pillar for a good relationship – and love, was for nothing.
Anyway… March came, and we were happy. My flight from India got cancelled twice and he was waiting long to see me – so I bought new tickets (of which he paid half as he was insistent that I am there for the one week he had taken off for us to be together) and that I come back home asap. I landed on 7th march, on 8th March we met. The very next day we meet.
His hug was warm and tight, and it felt like it was meant to be. Even in my awkwardness, I felt at home. His smell, his attitude, his affection – everything. And we kissed for the first time, and it was perfectly blissful – soulmate – I thought. I was overwhelmed by the intensity of it, and yet the comfort in it. I felt at home. I felt I have finally found my person.
That evening I was invited to his brother’s birthday. I met his dad there, he reminds me so much of my own dad.
Note: His dad… He sent me a message last night – “Papa JP” he signed. I cried. It hurts to know that I’ll probably never see him again, but that’s life. The problem with breakup is that you don’t just lose the person but also friends and family that came with him. That’s why perhaps people don’t meet with the family till they are sure of each other. Cause family makes us get attached to that person faster, and stronger. I wonder why my ex didn’t think of that?
Ferdinand the Bull.
Everything was perfectly harmonious. I felt welcome. The energy was good. No preconceptions. No rigged attitude. His dad and I connected on a different level. What I appreciate the most about the darling old man is he communicates so much through his silence – but hardly anyone is listening or trying to understand.
It was a magical evening. I was happy. We were happy.
That week went beautifully. I loved every bit of it. Weekend we had another dinner – this time his 45-year-old friend was invited. There’s something about his short stature, piercing blue eyes, shaved head, and cocky smile, and his way of talking – that was unsettling. His body-language, and the way he treated his girlfriend, it reminded me too much of a person overcompensating his masculinity. But perhaps that was my perception based on (not one but two) video conversations we had by then – while I was still in Calcutta. Where he had (again) mentioned “the size”. By now I was questioning what this friend’s obsession is with FtB’s penis size? Is he closet gay? If so, I felt slightly sympathetic to be honest. It must be difficult coming from a culture where gays were persecuted and having to live in a state of love for someone while maintaining social standards of masculinity, so he cannot express his feelings for – for whatever fucked up socio-normative reason it might be!
Energy was off with him. But I could talk to his partner/gf who’s a fellow brown Swiss woman like myself. She went through an abusive marriage and she got divorced within 4 years before her Indian-German husband ever had the chance to come to Switzerland. Her ex-husband was studying his PhD in Germany and she was there when he’d hit her, and for long she thought it was normal in a marriage. Which made me feel sorry for her – as we are expecting what we grown up with. As at, if our parents have an abusive relationship, our habitus causes our taste to develop around that as an example. And despite the majority of Tamil population being highly educated, it does not negate the South Asian (particularly Indian) patriarchal (almost abusive) orthodox system that is generated within a Tamil/Indian diaspora overseas. Our brown immigrant parents are often to blame for our perceptions of reality; but knowing the struggle they went through to make life easier for their children – we can’t even blame them properly! It is hard for us – as it is – how much harder it must have been for them!?! So, I wasn’t surprised that she found solace in this 45-year-old man who is visibly over-compensating through hyper-masculinity. Cause even with his flaws, he would be heaven on earth, in-comparison-to an abusive Indian husband.
But here’s the sad part. I got the butt-end of this situation. This 45-year-old man had his mind made up about me. For some reason he seemed more involved into my couple choices than my boyfriend (yes, by now we are officially together). He had more opinion about what FtB should or shouldn’t do in his relationship with me. We invited him for dinner, and I prepared Bengali Alur-Dum, and Polao. Since I can’t eat too much starch, I replaced the thickening agent with chickpea paste – what the West only knows as humus.
Firstly, he came into the kitchen criticising my cooking “is this even Indian food?”
I said: It’s Bengali food. But vegetarian. And to-be-honest there’s no such thing as an Indian food. India is vast, and diverse. This is a regional food.
Then he pulls his girlfriend infront and says: Sniff. Is this Indian?
I don’t know about her, but I felt insulted by the way he asked her to sniff and tell – like a dog to the master almost.
She sniffs and confirms: Yes, it smells correctly as Indian food should.
Him: But what is in there?
I explained the ingredients and repeated: It is Bengali food, I have just replaced the starch with humus as a thickening agent.
He: Who eats hot humus?
I: Please try it before judging it.
Throughout the dinner he kept complaining about it. But then at the end went for 2nd and even 3rd helpings. I didn’t find it necessary to fight him at this moment. I just said: so, you like it?
**Mind you, by now I have only met him 2ce in person, and 2ce on video. And we barely had a decent conversation. Unless criticising my FtB’s dick size was his main idea of a quality conversation.**
That evening my dog was there. Poochie. She’s the most adorable thing on earth, and I wanted my bf to meet her. She is quiet, 10-year-old, Maltese with puppy hair and big brown eyes. She has no teeth – so I call her Toothless. When we retired to the living room with a digestive – his friend started to attack me about my choice of wanting to be a parent again. I just said: look, it’s about my hopes and dreams and heritage that gets passed on. Why would I change it now that I have always wanted it since I was a little girl?
His question was: And J? How do you know he can cope with that? He can’t even stand your dog. Why did you bring your dog here? Is it not a bit selfish of you to impose this on him?
I was shocked. FtB never told me that he felt imposed. He never said he never liked my dog. It was his idea that I get her. He wanted to meet her. He even bought a sleeping cushion for her. Well – he ordered it and I paid. Yes, I noticed that he was annoyed by her eating habit (she only eats at night – as she is a rescued shelter dog she has some habits that developed out of fear of not getting food), and I have to admit, when I was in India – her nails weren’t taken care of properly – so it did make a bit of sound when she walked over to her food in the middle of the night. But FtB didn’t mind it that bad. Or was I wrong?
That evening his friend started to find flaws in everything I did or said. To the point he compared Swiss Student Associations (academic associations that I belong to) to the Nazi era Burschenschaft. Swiss academic associations have nothing to do with German Burschenschaft (which is highly patriarchal and often race inclined) so it has nothing to do with the Schw.St.V. I tried to explain to him that even before women were given the right to vote for the first time in 1971 in Switzerland, Schw.St.V. were admitting women – in 1968. Also, I pointed out the German flag colours are colours that were retained from one of the student associations in Germany, and some German Burschenschafts have issues with women even entering their buildings. He didn’t know any of that, but had plenty of “opinions”, and kept arguing based on his “opinions”.
Finally, the night went upside down. As FtB started to join him and gang-up on me with adult-bullying. I was shocked. I felt cornered. And what do ADHD people do when they are anxious, cornered, shocked, and can’t find words to express themselves? I had one outburst when they kept pushing their agenda against my dog, against my wishes to be a mother, against my student association and friends from there who are more like family that I have chosen – “listen, its either my way option or highway from here. I won’t stand being told what to do and not get any compromise or middle ground. It’s my way or highway”.
Believe me. I regret saying that.
I really wish I didn’t get cornered and adult-bullied into an ADHD outburst. Cause he – the 45-year-old – took that and manipulated that one outburst against me. That man, not just abused our hospitality, behaved rudely, but called me selfish and egoist. I still tried to make the situation calm by having a playful argument with my FtB about who is taller. As we both seem to have the wrong hight measurement and it was decided that FtB is taller at the head and me at the shoulder. I went downstairs with them to walk them out as I had to take my dog out for a walk too. He said – “you are such a manipulative selfish woman. So radical. So egoist. Very egoist.”
He kept saying that and walked away with his GF. I stood there insulted, flabbergasted, and hurt that not only did this man remain disrespectful towards me – FtB and I as a couple, – but also that FtB sided with him multiple times and adult-bullied me.
Is this what I signed up for?
I confronted my boyfriend the next day. He saw the issue and said he will talk to his friend. He went for a jog with him and came back completely flipped. It was bad. He refused to see his friend’s flaws anymore. He refused to see any fault or issue created by his friend. Instead, it was the first time he called me “radical”. Because his friend put that word in his head during the jog. Something he never did before, something he liked about me – my honesty and straightforwardness – all of a sudden became radical. Radical. He called me radical cause I had in my outburst said it’s my way or highway.
I, immediately saw the issue. His toxic friend had manipulated him completely.
I, was in pain. And finally, it came to this – when I told him how I felt he said: are you asking me to choose between you and him? It will always be him over you.
Here’s the thing, the word “choice” was his own. I never asked him to choose between anyone. I asked him to confront the situation and solve it. But he was putting words in my mouth by now – and this is gaslighting 1-o-1.
By now he was furious. Yelling. I was hurt. Confused. Trying to understand from where it was all coming. That was the first time I wanted to break up. I was about to leave. But then, again, we discussed the next morning, calmly. And he convinced me to stay.
His words exactly: “I don’t want to lose you. I am afraid. I know you are afraid too. Let’s be afraid together”.
I stayed. Falling further in love with him.
** I realised something today. We ADHD people are so emotional and feel so deeply for those we love, we don’t need to get drunk to access those emotions. I texted him today (haven’t touched alcohol since last Friday) – he saw it, but no reply. I know right now I am hurting, incapable of understanding how someone can just switch off feelings – but I guess that’s what makes him neurotypical. Cause a neurodivergent (like I) can’t switch-off feelings like that.
I couldn’t eat since last Friday. Had some light food with my bestfriend tonight. I’m gaining some strength to think straight. Yes, perhaps my fault was my outburst, and being too honest with him, I am willing to change that. However, I cannot bow down to injustice.
And him not replying to my messages asking if he’s fine, only confirms that these feelings that I have for him – though ignited and encouraging by him, was not reciprocated. I was just a toy. His game.
This hurts. This hurts differently.**