“You’re Lucky I’m Not Beating You”

It was yet another fun-filled night with the Amazingly Awesome Boyfriend. Everything had started innocently enough earlier in the day. I did my taxes online, and he was wondering if I could do his this weekend for him. Of course, I agreed to, but said I had some ‘non-monetary fees’ he had to agree to first: for two whole weeks, Monday to Friday, no hard liquor and no drinking during the day or before work.

Now, for most people, this would be a very simple thing. But a year ago, AAB was doing all those things to the extreme. He was drinking heavily during working hours, drinking as soon as he woke up in the morning, and continuing on until he went to bed at night. He was beyond broke, spending every last dime on alcohol. But a year ago, he went to go “dry out” and to start getting his life together. He swore to me that there would be no more morning booze, no more day drinking during work hours, and no more hard liquor. Every night after work, he would buy two or three beers or coolers from the store I work at, and he was fine. Over time, a few of the rules were bent a little bit. Every Saturday when he’s done work for the week he picks up a 26 of whiskey. And when he has a really really rough day at work, he will very occasionally pick up a half-mickey of whiskey for the evening.

In January, I caught him with a cooler at 6:30am while he was getting ready for work. He swore that it was a one-time thing until I caught him again a few days later. He swore that he only started doing that when I was working my 6am shift for the holidays since he was up so early with me every day. Then I caught him going to other liquor stores, trying to hide what he was buying from me so that I wouldn’t know he was buying whiskey. He was once again hiding booze around the house, trying to drink behind my back. I would go to pull the Tide-scented Bowser Kitten out of his laundry basket, only to have a half-empty mickey of whiskey fall out at my feet. What I thought was more than 8 months of him doing so well with his quasi-sobriety was crumbling before my eyes.

So when I saw the opportunity present itself, I made my two-week proposal to him. He kept saying that he needed to get back on track, and he wanted to dry out a bit. I figured this would be the perfect opportunity for him to do so. Instead, he told me he couldn’t do it. He’s fine giving up the hard liquor during the week, and not drinking during work hours. But he refused to agree not to drink in the morning because apparently he’s been doing that since he went to dry-out a year ago. He’s been doing this for a year, all the while he’s been swearing to me that he wasn’t doing it. He was lying to my face for an entire year.

And that’s where the fight began. He argued that it really isn’t a big deal that he’s been doing this because he’s been functioning just fine every day. I have no right to be mad at him for lying to me about it because he was only lying to me to protect me from his drinking. I tried to tell him that I was embarrassed and pissed off because I had spent the last year believing in him and trusting him, only to find out I was a fool and he was doing this behind my back. That’s where the real gems started flowing from his mouth.

“Hun, that’s why I lied. I hide things from you, so you won’t be embarrassed about me hiding things from you”

 

“You’re only upset because you’re a woman. Women take things to heart. Guys say shit, and then they’re jsut over it and can be buds. You’re just too girly.”

 

“I didn’t mean [insert mean personal comment] when I said it. I just say shit like that because I know it hurts you. I don’t mean it, I just want to hurt you.”

He went on like that the entire time we were cooking dinner, and well into eating dinner. He picked on my self-esteem, my work schedule, my job, and even my eyesight at one point. Every time I tried to make a point or ask a question, he would talk over me. He would raise his voice over me again and again, and then flip out when I raised my voice to try and be heard. I told him time and time again that the drinking itself wasn’t the issue right now. I understand that he is an alcoholic, and we agreed to a maintenance program as opposed to complete abstinence. If one small cooler in the morning is what he needs, either physically or psychologically, then that’s something we can work around. It was the constant lying and the smug way he rubbed it in my face that he had gotten away with it for so long that was the real issue.

Now, as I always say, I am by no means a perfect person or a perfect girlfriend. I’m sure there are things I said wrong, or things I should have said that I didn’t. I shouldn’t have raised my voice as often as I did, especially since I was doing so out of sheer frustration. And I shouldn’t have let him get to me so badly. But he said one thing that, no matter what I said or did wrong last night, he had no right to say.

“Look, it’s just a drink. Why are we fighting? I mean, you’re lucky I’m not beating or slapping you around. Just let it go, consider yourself lucky.”

He looked me in the eye and said the words “you’re lucky I’m not beating you”. Seriously, he said that, meant that, and honestly thought I should be happy with his lies because things could always be worse.

And I didn’t just stand up and leave him right then and there.

I feel horrible today. I feel like the biggest hypocrite in the world. I have spent years telling friends that if a man ever talks to you that way, you leave his ass. It doesn’t matter if you love him, he obviously doesn’t love you. But here I am, sitting at my desk in our shared bedroom, where I’m going to have to sleep next to him tonight because I’m not strong enough to leave him.

Right now I don’t know what I’m going to do. I know he would never actually hit me. He’s never thrown a real punch in his life, and we both know that I’m strong enough to more than defend myself against him. When we first started dating he wanted me to slap him for some reason; he thought it would be funny. When I refused, he slapped me across the face. I slapped him back, and then lifted him up over my shoulders and walked him to the door. I told him then that he was being drunk and stupid, so I wasn’t making him leave. But if he ever raised a hand to me again, I would have no problem dumping his ass on the porch and locking him out. And now here I am, doing absolutely nothing about last night.

I know it was somewhat the booze talking. We have these fights all the time though, and they’re just getting worse. He seems to think this is normal, that after every fight things will just go back to normal. He thinks he can say and do whatever he wants, and in the end, we’ll just be together no matter what.

After last night, though, I don’t know how much of this I can take.

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