A Schizoid Adventure into a seemingly perfect partner and his BPD trap

21-05-2019 19:05

A Schizoid Adventure into a seemingly perfect partner and his BPD trap

Sit down, children, and you shall hear the most awkward story of Paul Revere.

So, here I am with my best friend in my freshman year of high school, "Karen."

Our school had two sets of stairs near the left side of the campus, one set coming down from the main gym, the second coming off of a small exit right next to the gym.

We would sit on the second set of stairs, because it has the best view of the campus's relatively forested inner landscape.

It was rather beautiful, but we didn't keep it for long.

The next week, a sophomore couple making out took our spot. We were slightly annoyed and yelled "get a room!" jokingly.

The girl, "Julia", and the guy, "David", both turned to us. Julia had a permanent snooty look on her face, and accordingly sneered at us. David gave us a blank, yet focused look.

He was very handsome, though. He was a dirty blonde rugby jock who I had seen a lot around. Deep, piercing blue eyes, the cutest freckles, slightly pointed canines like a sexy wolverine, with a perfect swimmer's build.

Sweat-inducing description aside, the next day, they weren't there and we took the spot again. They came back later in the period and saw us; David rose his eyebrows slightly and walked on, while Julia gave her characteristic sneer and then narrowed her eyes at us.

The next day, they took the larger steps coming out of the main gym for lunch. We had our spot back, so we stopped thinking about David and Julia.

Freshman year passed.

As eighth-graders, Karen and I had taken French I online, so we were able to be in French II during 9th grade, and now French III during 10th grade.

Now, since everyone *had* to take 2 years of a language to graduate, French I and French II were artificially packed with about 30+ people, but French III was 10–25, and AP French famously had about 5 students.

Our teacher, Madame, now that we had more room for everyone, liked mixing us around regularly.

That's when I saw David again—-with a black eye.

This is odd, but I didn't think black eyes were *actually* something that happened. I thought that they were primarily a visual technique used in popular media to emphasize eye injuries and abrasions. He didn't try to hide it.

Anyway, he was rather quiet and was moved from a table of attractive rugby players to a table of four, with a nice goth girl named Angeline, Karen, myself, and David. Mme preferred equal gender division, hence two boys and two girls.

We started chatting casually. I assumed he would be some blockhead jock, but after some initial awkwardness about his black eye, wherein he explained he ran into an opposing player during some sort of drill, we started talking about the book he was reading. It was some Chomsky tome critiquing American hegemony, and we talked about American geopolitical history for the rest of the period.

Karen, David, and I quickly became friends, but it was obviously that they were becoming a *bit* closer.

I was very jealous, but I, for one, wasn't out and wasn't going to entrust some boy I didn't know very well with my secret, and two, I initially didn't want to be a homebreaker.

You might ask why Karen, and I later, didn't mind flirting with a committed guy?

Well, here's the detour:

Back in their early sophomore year, Julia and David began dating; like many petty high school relationships, it was primarily based on sex. The usual

Personality-wise, David found in Julia a sort of wallflower quirkiness with her own fire. Julia found a submissive, cute jock that she could dominate.

Given more attention, as they matured together, Julia came out of her shell to emerge as a guilt-inducing emotional dictator.

Try as he might, David quickly became emotionally drained from her and subsequently ran out of care for her. However, she wouldn't let go, using all of her manipulative powers to hold him by his balls.

So…he cheated on her. He cheated with two girls he was relatively close to, some rugby guys, and had a few miscellaneous hookups.

You'd think that Julia would be at least a *little* angry and embarrassed as the rumor mill started churning, but, in fact, her best friend, Samantha, had started aggressively hitting on her. Julia wasn't bi, but she craved emotional attention since David started glazing over after she showed her true colors.

Julia, having her emotional energy drained by Sam, could only sustain her husk of a relationship with David through guilt and sex.

The decreasing marginal returns for her led to David cutting her off during the beginning of his junior year, when he started dating Katie, an artistic hippie who mirrored his own charisma in a uniquely feminine way.

At any rate, Karen and David started moving closer. She started showing me their budding flirtatious text conversations, and I resolved myself to squash my jealousy and be a good friend and wingman.

There were some problems that they had, though. David had quite a few mental problems that he and I have only fully understood in the last few months. He had borderline personality disorder from parental neglect(he was a stoner who used weed, sex, and Nietzschean existentialism to escape his emotional abandonment-engulfment cycles, as well as significant erraticism.) and complex-PTSD from being sexually abused multiple times by one of his mom's boyfriends during childhood. And so, David wanted-no, needed a benevolent/playful dom to be his partner to satisfy what he and i call his "Oedipenis." A semi-absent mother figure led him to crave an unconditionally loving dominant partner.

Yet, due to his fear of being emotionally overwhelmed/engulfed, he made the mistake of choosing quiet wallflowers, who seemed passionate and benevolently dominant, but were secretly abrasive without sufficient social power. He does this a lot. With his friends, from insecure passive-aggressive nerds to frequently socially ignored guitarists to lanky stoners who are slowly figuring out that downing more protein shakes won't fix their low self-esteem to girls with severe daddy issues to extroverted pragmatists who are slowly figuring out that living out the sexual dysfunction "Shameless" won't bring them love, he acts as the mediator, because he subconsciously believes that if he can care for everybody else unconditionally, they will care for him back and not hurt, abandon, or engulf him. Yet, see my TL;DR. He has the same problem that I do. We are both stuck in everlasting struggles. He has aired out his social stress multiple times to me.


Now, I was really good friends with Karen, but she was too defensive and reliant on others' dominant initiative in a romantic/sexual relationship. Such different starting places, he a neglected stoner who suddenly found the nectar of sex to fix his low self-esteem once puberty and protein powder got through with him, and she a smothered upper-class scene girl, but both seeking the same kind of person…*SIGH*. Obviously deeply incompatible, but I was sublimating my feelings for David vicariously through Karen, so I put on my Machiavellian thinking cap and put in a little elbow grease.

This is the immoral tidbit.

I decided to help David "develop initiative" and help Karen "be more benevolently dominant" by sending each other specific screenshots of my conversations with them. I would get David texts that showed that Karen would immediately respond as soon as he emotionally affirmed her a *little more.* I would show Karen that based on his increased affirmation, he wanted her to respond a bit more "benevolently dominant." They both took the catnip, and they vastly progressed in their relationship, so much so that their "love" was able to gloss over the fundamental incompatibility. Now, I knew this situation was inherently unsustainable, but I wanted them to get closure with each other first.

Eventually, Karen found some screenshots of her texts on my phone(ask people to not swipe if you show them something on your camera roll!) and ratted me out to David. They froze me out, but I still talked to them on an acquaintance basis few and far between.

Without my stabilizing and catalyzing influence, their romantic/sexual relationship slowly iced over. They didn't really remain friends, but relapsed into civil acquaintances.

I decided that I was acting immaturely by staying quiet, so I reached out to them separately, and slowly rebuilt my friendship with both of them, even as they solidly remained icy for a long time.

This was at the end of David's senior year, and after a year and junior prom with Katie, he ended up dating Julia again for his last year, and, with limited time to fix anything, they utterly fell apart aside from random bouts of sex. They both left for different states.

That was May 2017, and that fall, I started my senior year. Iced away still from Karen and David, I was relatively quiet on both fronts.

The second semester started, and during the first week of January 2018, David sent out multiple texts from a new number saying that he had changed his number. Every since that Chomsky conversation, we have both had jokingly political conversation, him being an anarcho-syndicalist, but we joke about him being a primitivist hermit, and me always being a committed communist. We talked about Nietzsche's pithy statement about how one's biography determines their life philosophy, and how his free-spirited nature led to his more left-libertarian stance, and my own stiff immigrant upbringing led to my own strict communism. This led into speaking about weed, which weirdly ended up one February night in us talking about our sexual exploits.

I was still scared to out myself to him, but we happened to chance upon his gay rugby exploits in our conversation, which I hadn't known about beforehand.

I weighed the odds, and I decided that there was a negligible chance that he'd reveal my secret if I just told him, so I decided to just be open.

It worked out, gladly. He was happy that I was open with him, and we swapped our "conquest" stories. We continued talking about anything and everything, from the intersection of modernism with Goedel's incompleteness theorem to masturbating to each other in the past to politics to tech and our childhoods and our personal psychoanalyses. We talked for hours every day over text and frequently called for hours in the evening. I know, I know, the soothing effect of some odd actualization of my long-repressed crush was probably subsidizing problems I couldn't see that I was rushing hundreds of miles per hour into an open maw.

From Feb-May, the romantic ante was constantly upped, and we started having skirmishes about where we were going emotionally. Initially, he'd be hesitant, considering how hurt he was by Rachel, but he'd still brazenly flirt with me. He talked about not trusting me yet, and then oscillating again into saying he did have feelings for me. By mid-May, he said he was coming back to my city to visit family during the second week of June. He grew readily more confident, and amidst completely unrelated conversation during one of our night calls, he said he had definite romantic feelings for me and he wanted to plan a "friendly outing" when he got back.

This made me internally giddy, but, ever the stoic rationalist, I responded with a moderate and not overwhelming amount of joy.

It was confusing, but asking him in a forthright manner led to him saying he was generally just confused about the nature of his feelings due to his failed relationships, but he did want to start to engage and flirt with me, which I had been doing all along.

I've asked him how he knew his feelings were legitimate. He cheated on so many people. Why wouldn't he cheat on me if we did grow closer?

He replied by saying that even without physicality, I had been there for him intellectually and emotionally.(This was sort of obvious, seeing as he only initiates with broken people as a therapist, but our organic situation had no D/S dynamic.) "I've never been present during sex with women, and other guys are usually callous, closeted, or cold." Months of interpersonal analysis led to us figuring out that he was just gay, and the women always fulfilled some need. Now, I know the skeptic's soapbox well, and I know it seems like I might be so inundated with my puppy love that I was at his mental hand and foot that he was just enjoying the level of control he had over me, but, again, I am ever the stoic rationalist. I have, I do, and I will enthusiastically criticize and discuss anything with anyone, and my passion ends where irrationality starts. We have definitely dipped and risen many times.

Sappy bullshit aside, I think he just wanted an equal. Hedonism with his newfound desirability was all fine and dandy, but that didn't cover up the parental neglect or abuse. The only sustainable way to have perpetual and self-contained happiness is family values. Obviously not the homophobic, regressive brand of "family values" we all know and love, but the sense of community, loyalty, and altruism that usually exists in a nuclear family, but can just as easily be created within a band of lifelong friends or a polyamorous BDSM commune. A family is composed of self-supporting and inter-supporting equals having unconditional love for one another, and David has been screwed over by, well, everyone.

It's odd, but I think that I am the first person who has ever actually expected some degree of mutual respect from him.

Among most people, he was this charismatic rugby jock with a brilliant mind and a gleaming smile, a big man on campus who must be venerated, to his friends, in many ways, he was their emotional leader and idol, and in the context of his divorced parents, he was an insignificant kid who they didn't consider when breaking up.

But seeing him as a person and insisting that he see me as a person as well…it may very well be the first relationship he had ever been in that was between equals. Borderline people usually display a deep lack of self-awareness, but I think I forced him to consider the moral responsibility of being a functional emotional adult.

I chose to believe that, since I am deeply compatible with him in almost every way, from sharing interests on anthropology, philosophy, blacksmithing, physical activity, relationships, a variety of miscellaneous hobbies, and more. We always organically meeting in the middle, and, as you can tell by now, I'm certainly long-winded enough and perhaps substantive enough to talk about everything.

However, we still had regular issues, primarily about trust and fear of the other, but a night of cathartic conversation resolved everything every time.

June came, and with the sweltering heat came the increasing heat in both of our nether regions. Sexting grew more frequent.

Then the day came. I removed any blackheads, double-showered, and then I saw him for the first time for over a year. We went walking in our local park, and a general mix of low-tier apprehension and joy dominated(retroactively confirming) both our minds. We got to a tiny grotto next to a bridge, and I remembered how serene the bridge was during a past phone call with him. Overcome with emotion, I went in and kissed him.

It was pretty intense for me, and he was obviously aroused, as he went in for tongue, which was a first for me, but i attempted to match his moves. He must be very experienced, I thought. My schizoid traits make me overly analytical, though, as I kept my eyes open. We then continued walking until he grabbed my shoulder and asked me to follow him; we ended up in this meadow blocked from the path's view, and mild oral and vigorous making out ensued. After that, we went back to his car, and he started telling me about a once-off fling with an old friend(female) and having parallel-romantic feelings for her. That made me feel bad, but I didn't want to ruin the tenor of the date.

The day ended, and when I got home, I sent him a few romantic texts, and when he didn't respond that night(he went out to reconnect with some friends; I'm not trying to be a jailer, as how I feel is not his responsibility.), I remembered the fling he talked about, and how he used to have a harem of cheerleader girls, and now seemed like he was trying to subconsciously groom me to be part of some hyper-manipulative neo-harem now that he was trying out his gay side, and I remembered how he blocked me out for months when I tried to be honest with him and Karen. He just never seemed to respect me, and no matter how direct I was, he would never truly be himself, as happy as he was.

So, I just stopped talking to him. I got into a rut of overworking and engaging more in my hobbies to just get away from him. And then the switches flipped, as he'd text me, e-mail me, and call me incessantly about how much he wanted me in his life and how much he wanted to talk to me, if only briefly.

A month later, I accidentally butt-texted him, and he jumped on the text immediately. I'm obsessed with logical consistency(daddy issues; my parents wouldn't care about my input or respect my agency where it was important and where my siblings got respect, so I believed if I only spoke in terms of logical order, they couldn't invalidate my words, because the onus would be on the validity of my facts and not on how high they valued my opinion), and so I sought to apologize for the accident. He may have misconstrued my words as me being ready to speak on romantic terms again, but I remained icy for a few days, but he has this way of making me feel grounded and happy, so within the next few days, I semi-formally asked him to be my boyfriend.

He agreed with his usual easy mirth, and the rest of July was identical to our prior romantic months, but he would engage more by proactively sending me fun memes and strong insights every morning.

I sublimated my jealousy into productive curiosity, and we learned more about each other, that he had borderline adaptations and I had schizoid adaptations, and that he had been sexually abused by one of his mom's string of boyfriends in eighth grade, and, as such, he was co-morbid with complex PTSD as well.

Everything seemed to be getting worse and better at the same time, but it all came to a head last August, wherein it was just more work for him, but I started college, and he completely did a 180 and said he wanted to just be friends, and he just retreated into his shell and more or less rejected me, not responding to anything, and when I got stressed out and asked for an explanation, he blocked me. I sent an e-mail just to confirm the block(it was at night) wasn't just a glitch and to let out all my feelings, and he shortly unblocked me, going back and forth on blocking about nine times from August to October, wherein I became progressively more depressed, and he oscillated between hurtfully comparing me to his caustic ex and then growing softer whilst reminiscing about our good times. A little before my birthday in late October hit, he released his pressure and apologized for his past three months of behavior, attributing his behavior to intense paranoia related to Julia and a feeling of replicative abuse of his neglectful and divorced parents, as well as his rapist.

Shortly after this, I got into a car crash and received a concussion. I spiraled when I read a Reddit post on this subreddit that I thought was him, and I told him my fear about his old friend and his trust issues and our collective neuroses in general. He got into his tribal mediator mode and said that he had confirmed he was gay, and that the dissociating sex with women was a borderline defense mechanism to try to attain attention from a strong female, i.e. mommy issues. There was a lot of talking about how nuanced and caring I was and how he cherished my mental intensity even in the emotional moments when his exes or friends would have disparaged or ignored him.

It did console me, and November and December were perfect in their romantic feeling. As Winter Break pulled closer and David was planning a holiday visit, we planned to get a hotel room for a night.

A week before our meeting, he told me about feeling nauseated every few months when he thought about how he hurt the girls in his past harem, and I pushed him to resolve his issues with Julia by unblocking her and directly texting her. He did, promptly came out to her, told her who he was dating, and they made a date to see each other. He was fantastically happy to finally get closure, and she only reacted positively, but the next morning, there was a twist.

He told me about having recurrent sexual feelings for her and then how he wanted to maintain an open relationship. I have nothing against poly people, but…not for me.

I just said that if he is obligate poly(as opposed to facultative), then we could just be friends. He became panicky and scared, and then he internalized the shame and stopped talking to me. I then called him; he said he prioritized me and wanted monogamy, and we came to a consensus of polyamory being his mode of weakening intimacy, so he wouldn't feel emotionally engulfed, i.e. borderline defense mechanism. This seemed tenable for the time being, but then we met up on January 1st. Part of the whole submission-to-women complex used to involve oscillating with trans feelings and crossdressing desires. Julia used to dress him up in her skirts, panties, and/or lingerie whilst she would use a strapon on him. Part of the date was going to be going to this lingerie shop downtown, subsequently buying some books and getting coffee. My little kinky existentialist(too bad I'm a thorough modernist), lol.

Yet, I suddenly stopped getting text responses the morning of. I called him multiple times, received no response, and with a curious dismissal, I slowly paled into the realization that he got cold feet. Ha! My hedonistic womanizer, nervous of me, some random short guy, and not his aggressively dominant exes and ruthless friends?

Maybe he didn't want me anymore. Who ignores someone when they're frantic for months(after the Karen crisis) or after uninterrupted bliss(last July)? I knew there had to be some catch to getting the perfect guy. I mean, who gets their straight hunky crush to fall in love with them, have deeply engaging conversation with them on all levels without end in sight, come out with them, and go through so much simultaneous growth? That's every young gay guy's erstwhile dream.

Who was I, a try-hard nerdy guy, to get such a perfect partner right at the exact cusp of my budding adulthood? I am not unconfident, but, seriously, this scenario was almost textbook perfect. Even the current emotional turmoil…most likely, it will be solved by his seeing my honest and caring face most days. A growth arc for us both…argghhh! All the perfect ingredients, but what if I've destroyed everything forever? What if I came on too strong and he knows I want him to be my boyfriend and now he's just too scared of disappointing me? Our senses of shame seem to throttle each other. He doesn't want to disappoint anyone, so he just leaves(abandoned children can always escape); I don't want to disappoint anyone, so I just create a logical paradigm to understand, if not control, everything(youngest child has no escape, but all the expectations and legacies, so the only answer is to always be better than yourself).

Why can't he just understand that I love him without conditions? I wish he could understand that he makes me smile and explode with mirth, even now, whilst rereading his old texts. As an intensely private person, it was an accomplishment when he proactively sent me a nude whilst we were sexting late at night, which was the first time he'd ever taken one, aside from the one begrudgingly extracted from him from Julia.

Anyhow, he finally called me back at 2pm, and said he was unsure he could be in a relationship, explicating with commitment and trust issues fundamentally rooted in the insecurities of the problems of the prior week. I mentioned those prior issues, telling him how I felt about them(that I believed monoamory and monogamy were separate, and when we were relatively settled without dynamic drama, we seemed to be fully content with each other, and that I was there for him, whatever decision he decided to make), and then he felt emboldened enough to drive up to my college campus, wherein we just walked around, had cathartic conversation about the same issues, but with a greater measure of credibility levied to me, due to him seeing my face and hearing me directly.

The clincher for him, before he looked at me directly, eyes softening and narrowing, grabbed my shoulders, and started violently making out with me, was a little bit of object relations theory. He mentioned frequently about even when we were not speaking, he thought so much about me constantly, and even when he was angry at me, it was about how stressful my mental ubiquity seemed to be. I mentioned the part-object, that he could easily dissociate from sex with his "girlfriends", his summer fling with his old friend included, or see hookups with other guys as purely visceral action, friends included, which fundamentally gave every person a mental time limit. We were infinitely perpetuating, because our puzzle pieces of minds regenerated enthusiasm at every instance, and my so-called womanizer denied sex with me when he thought I was disappointed in his "polyamorous desires", i.e. when he thought i was disappointed in him. It was never about a part of me, whether it was my firebrand philosophizing, immigrant quirks, or my intellectual and emotional honesty, or my annoying anxiety, for that matter. He would bring up Jungian type theory, and whenever I'd describe my experiences, he'd talk about a compatible type, and over time, he broke multiple orthodox models by sending me articles and memes and walls of texts and information over calls to justify being an INFP, not the type I'm theoretically most compatible with, but the type closest in compatibility to my spoken experiences. Quite the whole-object relation.

That night was perfect. We grew horny enough to end up blowing each other, then realized the time, and he drove me home, but parked on the street over from mine, turning off his lights, landing us in the pitch black darkness. I could glimpse his nervous and rare smile gleaming in the briefest moment of moonlight, and he proceeded to leap over the gear shift over my lap, and before I knew it, the blissfully warm electricity of his lips touched me again and we made out again. Finally, he drove me over to my street, but one house before it. Blah, blah, blah, we made out a bit again and I left, for him to go off to a night party with his friends.

The next day, we went to a cheesy hotel downtown at 4 in the afternoon. We took a Lyft, because his car was in the shop, and I remember exchanging a smirk with David as our driver made a semi-serious joke about a local sorority staying at the hotel as well that night.

Anyhow, we checked in, started talking, got naked, and started making out. I was going to go down on him, but he had the pubes of a wildebeest and I asked him if I could trim them. He let me, and when it got to a certain level, I asked to shave the rest. He got antsy about that, so I gave up on it, and we walked back to the bed from the bathroom, wherein I almost tackled him to the ground playfully. He didn't want to, went back to bed, and gave me the whole "confusion" spiel, I started asking questions, we dissected the situation, and he jumped on me again. However, when I got out the sex toys we agreed we might use, he got antsy again. I took this as a sign to go slower, but even just making out and talking for an hour and a half made him feel antsy about prior events.

The night was lost to my schizoid paranoia and his borderline shame.

From 4pm to 4am, we just talked constantly and went back and forth. I retroactively take our ability to discuss productively even these intensely messy situations as a sign of possible long-term relationship. We both ended up masturbating to go to bed, and ever the aggressive one, I sucked him off a bit and swallowed his cum, in memory of a fantasy he elaborated upon the previous November 16that 11:53pm my time, 12:53am his time. I partially didn't want to see if he'd emotionally oscillate too much if I stuck my dick in his mouth(mind you, he had asked me to fuck him about eight times that night already), so I ended up just masturbating by myself, but, in the dark, I accidentally ended up jizzing all over his abdomen, and I'm sure he spiraled a bit as he got up and went to clean himself in the shower(we had both edged for ten days beforehand, hence a very large buildup of cum and invariably constantly high libido, and that's considering we are both boys in our late teens.). I swiftly fell asleep on my side of the bed, but, in the middle of the night, whether it was accidental or not, I felt him hugging me a little bit briefly(I'm a very light sleeper.). I sighed, realized all would be well, and fell into a deeper sleep.

I woke up early, organized all our things, took a shower, brushed my teeth, and waited on my phone as he went through his motions.

He looked despondently out the window as he got dressed, and I playfully made an analogy about the origins and mechanism of bleak existentialism as opposed to my modernism, and this encouraged him enough to kiss me, but he then moved his face away in pain. Clearly, he had internalized his shame again and I was now months away from an answer.

As we rode back in the Lyft, I typed out a message essentially saying "Before you leave the cab, blink at me if you know me, if you know us and our love. Our trust, our resilience, our nuance, and our solidarity against a bleak universe of sorrow we are both feeling right now.", as we couldn't exactly spell out romantic drama in front of some random driver, much less gay drama.

He did blink, but that was all I heard from him for a week and a half. For the next semester, every month, we'd speak for a few days, he'd want to get back together, but then I'd ask too many questions, he'd absorb my curiosity as fatherly aggressive disappointment, internalize the shame, and then retreat for another month.

I initially came out to him thinking I would never see him again, and then it grew into more. We had fantasies of going to close professional schools together eventually. I'm pre-med and he's either going to go into Bio/Anthro with a later clinical psych PhD or Special Forces if his low self-esteem drives him to further "Self-transcendent" behavior. Think Cloninger. He's a nerd at heart who uses Nietzschean tactics to get into jock circles. Oddly brilliant.

However, I convinced him last November to move back to our home city, he managed a full ride, and now he will be back permanently in early June. He's now visiting his mother in these last two weeks before his return. I hope it will be cathartic, as the essential role of the neglectful mother is the core of his borderline personality disorder, his "Oedipenis". (It's always so odd how he's so much gayer(his female "desire" doesn't really exist outside of his neurotic episodes. An easy high due to feeling desirable without feeling overwhelmed, because he doesn't really like girls. Think about how most gay guys find it odd that straight guys are uncomfortable asking out girls, and how said gays would find it easy to date girls just to hang out, but then add in David's neurotic/borderline "self-transcendent" behavior, which amplifies such platonic experience into sexual validation. The need for validation is the solution to his disorder, but my logical nature presupposes that if I talk to you at all, I necessarily respect you and consider your words of value. Would you actively encourage anyone in a normal situation? If you don't make a big fuss out of small achievements, and even be completely nonchalant about huge ones, then it's as if you have an immense level of respect for said person's competence. I wouldn't congratulate a 40-year-old mathematician for acing a middle school geometry test. I fundamentally consider most compliments outside of almost objectively huge accomplishments to be patronizing. I don't care how brilliant you are, a Nobel Prize or Fields Medal deserves massive congratulations, obviously.) when he's mentally settled.)

Maybe he will return. He is always the proactive one for large comebacks.

I just wish he could understand how I felt about him.

But I won't hold my breath. I'm glad he won't see this. I'll keep a stiff upper lip and just be calmer and take everything in my stride when he comes back.

I just hope he ever talks to me again. I feel so empty and sad all the time, no matter what I do, whether it's work or reading or playing around or hanging out with other friends.

This probably record-long Reddit post is over, guys. What do you think?

TL;DR: I'm scared of what I term "aggressive" people, which conditions me to tending towards meek people who never take the initiative to support me when I need it, I then grow bored of their non-action, blame it on myself, then I leave, and I have recycled the same process for my entire life. When my family construct was particularly falling apart due to my siblings growing up and my parents getting on in age, I fell into a meaningless limbo, and this oh so perfectly intersected with my first crush, who happened to be a meek and moderately mentally ill dreamboat who pushed all my pain and pleasure buttons at once. I am currently trying to piece it all together. Care to comment? I would heartily appreciate it.