The Long Awaited Ending (TW: mention of abuse)
If you haven’t read part one and two I recommend doing so before proceeding 🙂
As many of you know, I have short hair. For years I grew it out because my mom said it looked so pretty long, but it always felt wrong. For years, I kept it in tight braids or, once it grew past my shoulders, in low buns. Hair pulled tight away from my face with a few framing strands, it was like short hair without the commitment.
We stood side by side in front of my mirror, naked and exposed, though not because of our nudity. We were both sharing a part of ourselves we kept closely guarded and holding space for the other. Though it seems fairly minor, it is one of the most vulnerable moments I have ever shared with someone to this day.
Just then, we heard the back door open and my mother’s frantic voice calling out to me. I had sent her texts and voicemails telling her we bussed home early so they wouldn’t wait for me after the show. Unfortunately, it was 2016, and my mom (late to the tech game) had left her BlackBerry Slider at home and didn’t get my messages. Scrambling to put clothes on, I tried to explain this through the door. It kinda felt like we were star-crossed lovers hiding away to be together. In a sense we were. My parents never liked him because they saw the effects of his abuse much sooner than I could. Sure, love is blind, but more so, I think love is blinding.
We were together for another month and a week (two months total). He broke up with me after I got back from a two-week Italian exchange. I had brought him rocks from Venice and Bologna and Rome. I had brought him a condom from a meat shop and an Italian translation of a Captain America comic (for the irony and because Cap was his favorite). After he dumped me, I gave him the gifts. What else was there to do with them? I cried on the walk home and cut my hair to my shoulders the next day.
Over the next 6 months, we got back together and broke up again and again as his mental health got temporarily better and permanently worse. We broke up for the last time in January of 2018. I said we couldn’t talk anymore because an amazing friend helped me realize that none of it was normal. And, in fact, a lot of what I chalked up to bad moods, bad days, bad sex was emotional and sexual abuse. I cried on the walk home and cut my hair to my ears the next day. Maybe next breakup I’ll shave my head.
Everything shared is 100% true with no exaggeration. Tune in next week for Ep. 9 to see what other shenanigans Annie’s Friend gets into on her messy search for love.