I live with my boyfriend. I hate it. Not to say I hate him exactly, but I feel like... a prisoner.
When we began dating, he knew I was attracted to females and that I considered myself bisexual and he knew that I had been with Veronica and that she was my very best friend. I felt like I was being progressive and doing the right thing by being upfront about my sexuality and about my desire to explore my attraction to women. Mister Q, as I will call him, expressed the "oh that's so hot" and "I'm totally ok with it" and the "I'd love to experiment with that as well" cliches that many men exhume when discussing two females being together in a sexual or intimate way.
As it turns out, men are big fat liars in that respect. (sorry for the generalization)
While it's true that they MAY find the idea of that incredibly tantalizing, they do not, in fact, actually want it to ever EVER ever happen.
My boyfriend and I split up for a period of about 2 months, during which time, I met a couple who was looking for a female companion of sorts for the wife. Thinking I'd never see Q again, I enjoyed my time with the couple enormously! They were fun, yet intelligent and strange, yet normal. I truly cherished our friendship more than the time I had with them sexually. They knew that Q was trying to win me back and that I was sick of his garbage and his controlling ways and the way he hid everything from me.
When we got back together, I told him about my sexcapades with the couple and he was, for lack of better phrasing, Pissed. Infuriated, he told me he would do terrible things to them if he were to ever see them or meet them or run in to them.
I was afraid for my friends. Terrified for them! So as casually as I could, I broke things off with them, including all conversation and social networking. Which hurt. Because I cared for them and they meant much to me.
I stayed in contact with Veronica as normally as I thought safe. He knew, after all, that she was my best friend and that I cared for her. One day, after several weeks of being together again he asked me one question that Veronica had asked me just several days earlier. The question was "If Q asked you how you felt about me, what would you tell him?" I was startled that the question came so soon after I had talked about it with Veronica and I answered truthfully that I loved her. Tears in my eyes. What happened next I'm ashamed of. I was faced with an awful conundrum: either cut if off with her, all communication or he tells her husband everything and in so doing, ruin her world.
What could I do but sadly, desperately agree. I even begged. If it meant her well being and world was preserved, then I would do it.
I didn't speak with Veronica for 7 weeks. At which point Q passed out drunk on the floor one night and I found something ...infuriating on his phone. I know, I snooped but wait for it. He had downloaded a ghost program onto my phone and had been listening to all of my phone calls and reading all of my text messages for almost two months.
I should've broke it off right then but I didn't, I actually gave him a chance. He supposedly took it off, but who knows. We stayed together for too long. I was angry for too long. I never actually got over it because I was forced and I have held that against him to this day.
I broke up with Q last night.
Here's to new beginnings.