She was an abysmal choice of woman with which to break my long streak of celibacy with.
Although attractive, she had self-diagnosed herself with Autism and ADHD, which she used as some sort of license to act however she pleased. She had never gotten an official diagnosis for these conditions from a registered medical professional, and to my knowledge, I believe she convinced herself she had them both thanks to chronic social media usage.
These decision diseases supposedly allowed her to tell people they were being too loud, too triggering, too anything, whenever and however she pleased. Like the entire world was just an environment designed exclusively to house her, and all her fabricated neuroses.
She was impossibly self-involved, turning any subject discussed back onto herself, and her multitude of phantom conditions. Endometriosis was another condition she had seen that was able to elicit an emotional response online, and she also ‘suffered’ with that. The results of which manifested in her curling into a ball and going ‘Ooooooooo,’ usually when something was being discussed that wasn’t going her way.
Miraculously, five minutes later she’d be bouncing around happy as a clam as though nothing had happened, even given the supposed ferocity of her extreme amounts of vaginal pain, mere minutes prior.
One time, we spoke on the phone for two hours straight. Well, I say we spoke, she ranted about herself, her problems, her everything, and I listened. I decided towards the end of the relationship, which lasted a paltry six months, to start calling her out on the more egregious acts of self-obsession she displayed. This phone call was one of them.
I interrupted her after checking the length of the call to inform her that she had spoken about herself for two hours, non-stop. I asked her if she thought that was a normal or healthy thing to do, and if a relationship with such dynamics was worthwhile for me. She fell silent, completely flabbergasted that someone in her immediate life had dared to question her. She apologized, and we ended the call. I didn’t hear anything from her afterwards, and I’m almost positive that she would have phoned someone else to chew their ear off instead.
She also was very vocal about a supposed sexual assault claim, committed by an older local gentleman.
The only problem with this claim however, was she had been openly seeing this older gentleman for a couple of years whilst she had been working for him. People had seen them dining at restaurants, walking hand-in-hand and playfully flirting.
This trauma sob story was paper-thin to anyone who had been around at the time it supposedly went down, although she was adamant something terrible had happened, and brought up this fact whenever it would help her gain the upper hand.
Not wanting to have sex, not wanting to argue, not wanting to sleep in the same bed as a man who snores for fear of PTSD involving the older man snoring, the list was endless. She was a career victim, the autism, the ADHD, the endometriosis, the older man who may or may not have sexually assaulted her… She used it all as a shield to discredit any criticism whatsoever.
She was entirely intolerable.
I had started going on weekly walks with a weighted backpack with My Best Friend by this time, a form of exercise in between walking and running. Weekly I explained her absurd behaviours to him, and how much I suspected I secretly loathed her, even though we were ‘seeing each other’ and occasionally sleeping with one another.
He laughed at most of it, and offered his opinions, which I valued dearly as he is one of my oldest and dearest friends. Then one day he simply asked me:
‘Is she enriching your life?’
The answer was so immediate to me, so obvious, that it was almost comical…
This story is an excerpt from Toxic Brodude’s debut novella, “Libertine Dissolves,” which is now available on Amazon. Support a litbro and buy this man’s book. PLEASE BRO.
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