After Chris and I met, we had an amazing whirlwind romance for a few months. There was a blip near the beginning when the Haiti earthquake happened. He said he didn’t care about all those people dying and losing everything and berated me for giving some money to a friend who was going out there to rebuild an orphanage. He said they didn’t deserve my money or kindness. I guess I knew then that there was something not quite right with him but I am a sucker for a waif and stray.
He was very house proud and wanted to stay in all the time and watch films. We really didn’t have the same taste in films (or food, music, social activity, friends, you get the idea) so staying in wasn’t much fun. I suffer from my own metal health issues and sitting in day after day just set me off and I started to get really depressed.
After around two months I ended our relationship. He was yelling at me on the phone because I didn’t want to do something that set off my anxiety disorder. I can’t remember exactly what it was but it was probably that I didn’t want to go to London on a Saturday or something equally as pointless. He yelled, “when are you going to stop pretending you are ill?” I was shocked. Up until this point he’d been lovely. He was kind and thoughtful and so talented. Everytime he sang, I fell in love with him again. After such a short time, I couldn’t imagine my life without him in it but he’d crossed a line. Despite being head over heels for him, I walked away. I felt guilty for ending it and we remained friends.
A couple of months later he appeared at my house really early in the morning. I heard him talking to my mum downstairs. I checked my mobile and I had a few missed calls from him. He came up the stairs and I asked what was wrong. He collapsed on my bed and told me that his nan had died. She’d had a stroke and died in hospital. He was very close to his nan (she brought him up) and I was devastated for him. He wouldn’t let me go to the funeral. We went to her house to collect a few things he wanted before the rest of the family went to clear it out.
We decided a couple of months after that that we would get back together. It was clear that we still had strong feelings for each other. I was really pleased. He’d got a good job that was due to start the following year and things were looking positive. All of a sudden, a girl he went to school with got in contact with him through Facebook. He said she could come and visit him and she did. She stayed for three days and I wasn’t allowed to see him while she was there. I got increasingly pissed off and, on the third day, told him that if she was still there by the end of the day, I was ending our relationship. She went and he promised me that nothing happened but I didn’t believe him. They’d been to a sex shop together and he showed me photos of her wrapped around him, smiling like a Cheshire Cat. I let it go.
The next year other things surrounding women happened. He went to visit someone in the south west and was photographed doing something he shouldn’t have been. He just lied to me about all of it. The final straw was when we decided to move in together. He was staying at my place while the flat we were moving into was being renovated. He received a text while he was asleep. I glanced at his phone, annoyed that it wasn’t on silent. The text was sexual in nature. I ignored it for about half an hour and then I picked up his phone and read the message. I then read all of his messages. He was having sexual conversations with about seven different people. I went mad. He moved into the flat alone and I stayed with my mum.
By the end of the second year, we were no longer together, he was living in the flat we were suposed to be sharing (that I was paying for) and he’d lost the job he’d got. As time went on, I discovered his nan hadn’t died. He’d also said that his mum had died, when his nan actually did finally shuffle off, to cover up her second death. It put into question if the job opportunity actually existed. He’d lied to me so much, about things that were absolutely shocking, how could I believe him about anything at all? He was aggressive and threatening and attemped suicide a couple of times. I dragged him to a doctor and he moved out of the flat I was paying for and into somewhere on his own. He was referred to a psychiatrist, who diagnosed him as bipolar 1 and 2, with a borderline personality disorder.
That’s how we got to the point where we are now. That was over three years ago.