My friend pulled me aside at our meetup and asked if I had deleted Facebook. I hadn’t. When I asked why, he said I had vanished from his friends list. I pulled out my phone and checked, and there it was — he had been blocked.
Along with a bunch of my other male friends and acquaintances. Guys I definitely hadn’t blocked. Because my boyfriend of seven months had access to my computer, I was ninety-nine percent sure it was him. A few months earlier, he had asked me to delete one guy I messaged, and I had agreed because I understood his discomfort.
That time, he had actually talked to me about it. This time, he had done it behind my back. I confronted him. He admitted it immediately, like it was nothing.
I told him it made me feel like he didn’t trust me. He said it wasn’t that he didn’t trust me — it was that he didn’t trust my friends. I asked what he thought was going to happen, whether he thought I couldn’t handle myself. He told me it was normal for guys to be protective of their girlfriends.
He seemed to genuinely not understand why I was upset. The people I told all said the same thing: this is a massive red flag. He was controlling and jealous. One person pointed out that if he truly trusted me, he’d know I could handle an unwanted advance.
Another said his “protective” excuse was just a nicer way of saying he didn’t trust me. A commenter also noted the age gap — I’m 22 and he’s 28 — and said he was likely dating me specifically because I was younger and easier to control. If he tried that with a woman his own age, he’d be dumped immediately. That hit me.
People had commented on the age gap before, and I had never thought it was an issue. But maybe it was a factor. Maybe he thought he could get away with it. The next week was tough, but I started realizing the comments were right.
I looked back at our relationship and saw so many other things I had overlooked. I had thought he loved me, but really, he was trying to control me. I felt stupid for not noticing it all sooner. That night, I was supposed to go to his place, but I texted him to say I couldn’t.
He was pissed and kept calling. I told him I’d call tomorrow. He didn’t stop. He kept texting, demanding that I answer.
So I gave in. He asked what was wrong, and I told him the Facebook thing had upset me and that I didn’t like being controlled. He responded by saying I was only upset because I had a guilty conscience. That made me so mad that I said, “If you really think I cheated on you, then fine, it’s over,” and I hung up.
The next day, we agreed to meet. He tried to hug and kiss me like everything was fine. I pushed him away. We talked, but he never apologized and never backed down.
He stuck to his point that he didn’t trust my friends, and he even tried to spin it into a compliment, claiming those guys couldn’t help themselves. I had met him with a little hope that he might apologize and that we could work it out. But his reaction made me realize we couldn’t. I told him he was full of crap, that he was trying to control me, and that I didn’t want to be with him anymore.
He got mad and called me all kinds of names. Ironically, that made it easier. It reassured me I was doing the right thing. After a couple of days of silence, he started calling again, leaving messages saying he was sorry and that he loved me.
I made a mistake and agreed to see him. He told me he only did it because he didn’t want to lose me. But I just got the feeling he was telling me what I wanted to hear. I knew it was over and told him.
He got mad again. His parting words were something like, “Fine, go and be a freaking hoe then. ”
It was upsetting to hear from a man I thought loved me, but if that’s his opinion of me, then he’s not the guy for me. I haven’t heard from him in a few days.
My friends warned me to block him and to stop meeting him in person. They said he would absolutely be back. I know they’re right. —
Then there was the second issue, with my flatmate.
I moved into my flat in October, taking over the room of a mutual friend. My new flatmate and I got along well. We weren’t close friends, but we were friendly, and the atmosphere was great. She always seemed completely normal and level-headed.
When lockdown started, my boyfriend, who had been living with his sister so he could help care for his mother during her chemo, needed somewhere to stay. My flatmate gave her definite approval, and he moved in with us. He cooked dinner for us every night as a thank you, and the three of us ate together, which was great. We all worked from home, but we never spent a ton of time together.
Then, last week, my boyfriend took me aside. He was anxious and flustered. While he was hanging out the washing in the courtyard, she had ambushed him from behind. She gave him a huge speech about being in love with him.
She said she respected that he was with me, but she had deep feelings for him and would be available if he were ever single. She asked him not to tell me. She didn’t try to kiss him, but she tried to hold his hand. He told me about it a couple of hours after it happened.
He said he was afraid I wouldn’t believe him or that I’d be angry. At first, he thought it was a weird joke. The flat atmosphere became awkward. She didn’t say anything else to him, but he mentioned she had touched his arm a few times as she walked past.
It got under my skin. I spoke to our mutual friend, who was shocked. She said my flatmate had never done anything like this before. We couldn’t move because of the pandemic and money.
The advice I got was to confront her, to call out her behavior, and to make boundaries clear. Several people pointed out that she knew he wasn’t single, so her “confession” was really her making a move and hoping he would dump me for her. They also said her continued touching was harassment, and that my boyfriend should have been firmer with her. I empathize with him, though.
Being in a situation where someone is sexually harassing you, especially in your own home with no breathing room, is hard. You can quickly become unsure if those brief moments actually happened. Yesterday, after a tense few days of avoiding her, I caught her sliding her hand and forearm across my boyfriend’s lower back where his t-shirt had ridden up. He yelped and yelled at her to stop.
When they both saw me, he started going, “You see? You see? This is what I was talking about. ”
After we went for a walk to calm down, my boyfriend and I formed a plan.
He wanted to give her the opportunity to address it diplomatically. I agreed, thinking lockdown might have caused some naivete and a fantasy gone too far. When we got back, we knocked on her door. She wouldn’t answer, though we could see she was reading my WhatsApp messages.
Late in the afternoon, I knocked again and told her I was coming in. I sat on her bed and told her gently but firmly that what she did was inappropriate and made us uncomfortable. I told her she had to get over it if she intended to continue living with us. She burst into tears.
She said she was sorry and that she was a bad person. She couldn’t believe the pressure of lockdown was getting to her. I felt bad and started sympathizing. Then she said, “It’s just so unfair that the guy I’m in love with has a really great girlfriend.
”
I lost it. “Unfair my ass,” I told her. She had a lot of growing up to do and owed the house an apology. She started having a full meltdown — weeping, hiccuping, snorting.
When I stood up to leave, I spotted my shirt hanging on her clothes rack. I took it and went back to my room. She sat in her room crying loudly with the door open until 7 p. m.
for attention. I used our emergency contact sheet and called her mom. She came rushing in like a superstar, but the look of annoyance and embarrassment on her face when she found her 27-year-old daughter having a tantrum told me this wasn’t a new part of her personality. My flatmate shut up pretty quickly when she saw her mother.
They left without saying anything to us. I texted her that it would be best if she messaged me before coming back. I don’t know when I’ll see her. The lease ends in August, so my boyfriend and I think we can make it work and find a new place, or at least resign without her.
As a final thing, my boyfriend mentioned that if she took my shirt, maybe she took other stuff too. I checked her clothes rack. I found my jeans, my t-shirt, one of my boyfriend’s work shirts, a vinyl I owned, my childhood charm bracelet from inside my jewelry box, and a sheet of my old antidepressants. There was more in the drawers, I guessed.
I left them for now because I didn’t want there to be any doubt that she stole them. I hoped she got help. I was angry and violated, as was my boyfriend. But I could empathize with how an uncontrolled mental health issue can wreak havoc on your behavior.
It still sucks for her to experience it and lose friends. Our mutual friend later told me that another friend who went to school with my flatmate had heard a rumor that she once told a bunch of people she had leukemia, when she didn’t. I went back to take my things. I thought about recording it but decided it might be weird and legally iffy.
I wasn’t concerned about her being violent. I think the whole situation was humiliating for her. Honestly, I still hope she’s okay. I’ve definitely let my own health issues push people away before, though never so dramatically.
I don’t think I’ll be calling her crazy. My boyfriend pointed out that I had worn my jeans last week, and we had all been listening to the vinyl in the living room a couple of weeks ago. So I’m kind of interested to see if this was an episode or an ongoing, usually managed thing. I’m not sure what the truth is.
But I know I’m getting my stuff back, and I know she’s not coming back to live here.
