Cuntface

I was stuck in an abusive relationship for a while. It took me a long time to recognize what it was and an even longer time to get out of it. I’m a pretty smart guy, but I was pretty dumb about that relationship.

I met Cuntface (that’s actually what I have called him for these many years) a few months after Jeremy died. I was in a new job, a new location, and very sad and lonely. At first, CF was kind to me, but that didn’t last long. In retrospect, I should have know this was not a good relationship right away, because he was a lousy kisser and he was lousy in bed (the few times I actually went to bed with him) and my instincts were telling me “no, no, no”, but on paper, Cuntface seemed like the type of guy I would go for. Little did I know what he really was like.

CF was not physically abusive, although he had a temper and a severe case of road rage. One time, when his computer froze, he threw it out a window. He also got so mad at another driver that he sped up, got in front of the other car, and slammed on his brakes (charming). No, CF was mentally abusive. He lived to put me down. He would criticize everything I did or felt. He did it to other people as well. He’s one of those assholes who tries to make himself feel better by making everyone else feel bad.

I dated CF for quite sometime, although I never loved him. He actually moved in with me and I’m am still, to this day, not sure how that happened. He just kind of never left one day. I didn’t want him to move in and he never asked. I put up with his constant abuse (because he said he loved me, although I doubt he knows the meaning of the word) for quite some time (years in fact). I think we had sex (very, very lousy sex) maybe three times in all the years we were “together”. Honestly, I didn’t want him to touch me. At least some part of my brain was functioning. He made me feel so bad about myself that I felt like no one would want me and that’s one reason I stayed with him. I also think after the trauma I went through with Jeremy’s death that I didn’t want to love someone again for a while and I didn’t want to go through a loss again.

CF was incredibly possessive and jealous. He didn’t want me to have any friends and he was suspicious of every place I went alone. One time he accused me of going to the Faultline in LA. He said he knew the bartender. I knew that was a lie because; a, I didn’t go to the Faultline, and b. The bartender wouldn’t have known me. I did, however, go to Mr S in LA (they had a store there for a while right next to the Faultline). I knew something was up. I took my car to the mechanic and he found a GPS tracker hidden underneath when he put it on the lift.

It took finding that tracker and the attacks on 9/11 to wake me up. I remember driving to work that morning and listening to the radio and wondering what was going on. Something was on fire in New York. As it became more obvious what was happening, I was stuck with a profound feeling of the impermanence of life and how much of mine I was wasting sticking with CF. I was finally ready for a real relationship again, and CF wasn’t it.

I got myself to a therapist to have someone to help me sort all my feelings and help me get over the fear of breaking up with him (I hate conflict, remember?). I knew I wanted out, but I didn’t know how to get out. I was afraid of him. My therapist was a lifeline and a lifesaver. With her help, I eventually told CF that we were through and I wanted him out. I handed him his little now smashed GPS unit and told him to pack up (in retrospect, I should have put it on his car or someone else’s for fun). I even gave him a down payment for a house of his own (don’t ask me why, but I didn’t want him homeless, such was the extent of my abuse syndrome that I actually felt guilty). CF tried all his tactics to make me change my mind, but thanks to the therapy, I saw them for what they were and wasn’t having any of it. She taught me to stick to my bottom line.

Even after all this, CF wouldn’t leave. He always had an excuse as to why, but basically he didn’t want to and wasn’t going to. It wasn’t until after I was already dating and started bringing guys home and having really good sex that CF finally got the message. That cunt had to actually see me move on before he realized I was serious. I also changed all the locks one day, so there was that. When he finally left, he took every vestage of what was left of him in my house. Every photo that he was in was gone and I really didn’t care. He even stole some of my stuff, but nothing valuable and honestly, I was happy to erase him from my life. It was like he never existed.

I understand completely why people stay in abusive relationships. I was in a bad place mentally when I met him and he kept me there to keep me dependent on him. I thank god every day that I finally got myself out of that situation. I wasted several years with CF, but I did come out of it wiser and with far more self awareness and self esteem. I was in a good place when I met Tripp, who is the polar opposite of Cuntface and is my soulmate. Even otherwise intelligent, successful people can end up in an abusive relationship, and once you’re in one, they are hard to get out of. Thank god I did. To anyone reading this in a similar situation; you deserve love, your deserve respect, you deserve happiness, and you owe it to yourself to get out.

-Doc

Published by Locked Doc

Middle aged sub/slave reclaiming his kink and exploring Bdsm with both his husband and his Master. Always locked.

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