Marriage Without Love

… My marriage to my ex-husband was one that was devoid of love and respect.  I never was particularly fond of the man, only what he represented.

We had met in college.  He was a student that I tutored.  We hit it off well, the intimacy was appreciated and we quickly became inseparable.  I valued the companionship and the intimacy, but I never particularly felt close to him.  At his urging, I entered therapy briefly to discuss my relative lack of feelings and was briefly misdiagnosed with Asperger’s.

I forced an answer on the question of marriage after only knowing him for five months.  He was useful and he was mine.  I wanted to ensure that he would be mine for a long time.  Looking back, I should have realized intellectually that such a mindset was odd.  Then again, this was many years before the word ‘psychopathy’ ever entered my mind.

Our marriage was as loveless as was the courting phase.  I quickly began to understand how to manipulate and leech him.  He provided an alleviation of boredom, physical intimacy, and utility, so I wanted to ensure that my pet Swiss army knife was available at all times.

Several times during the marriage, I tried to coerce sex from others.  He was boring.  I loved breaking him down during sex, but hated his attempts to make sex anything more than the psychological game it was for me.  Unfortunately, such attempts with others never panned out.

The night after the marriage ceremony, I ignored him.  I had a fine bottle of Jack Daniels and some books to read and games to play.  He was not important to me, even on what would be, for many, the “happiest” day of their life.  I had a toy that would have difficulty in leaving.  I had a toy that could be broken over and over again.

Because he would alleviate boredom, I would become upset whenever he would go off for “him time”.  Eventually, I realized that I could cite my depression and force him to stay with threats of self-harm and suicide.  His life did not matter to me; only what he could provide for me.

Eventually my parasitism would prove too much and he threatened to leave.  He thought I acted the way that I did out of the genetic depression that I had fought for the whole of my life.  He did not realize that my parasitism and callousness were intentional and thought out.  After one particular night of parasitic behavior, he threatened to leave.  In return, I threatened to kill myself, faked a frantic search looking for pills to overdose on, and suggested that I be taken to the psych ward.  I believed that by “seeking help”, I would be able to appease him and continue a relationship of benefit for myself alone.  Such did not work.

My relationships are not of love, they are utility.  He was a pawn and one that was moved for many years until he was dispatched…

Image is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license.  Use of this image should not imply endorsement by the image author, Steve Evans.

Chasing Identity
On My Own Two Feet

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