The last decade I was married to a narcissistic control freak.

At first, it was little things that should have been red flags, but I was too in love to see them.

Example: I said that I wanted to try role-play, and he said no. Not just no, but an outright refusal to discuss why he said no. It was the casual brutality of it that should have alerted me to an problem. He could have said he’d think about it or asked to hear more. He didn’t. He just said no, and became furious when I wanted to discuss it further.

Example: I threw a kink party and he spent the entire night flirting with someone else. He ignored me when I tried to talk to him, and did not check in with me at all. When I tried to discuss it after the fact, he said that I was making him feel bad about himself and I needed to stop trying to shame him for his behavior. No discussion of how to solve the problem in the future, no explanation of why he behaved that way, and no promises to be more mindful.

Example: He would sit for hours on dating apps talking to people while we were supposed to be hanging out. Not while he was in line at the grocery store or on a smoke break at work, but like, while we were watching TV together and were supposed to be snuggling. I said it made me feel bad and that I thought he should find better times to try to meet women. He refused to discuss it and said he had to no other time to meet women so I shouldn’t have an issue with it.

You can see the pattern. He refused to discuss things. He shut down conversations that needed to be had, and he tried to argue me out of my feelings.

The year that we dated he was attentive, thoughtful, and kind. He never said “no” to trying new things in bed, and acted brave even his first time at a sex club.

As soon as we got married, his behavior changed. He began to snoop through my things, try to track my phone, and disrespect me. I thought he was having trouble adjusting because his parents are bad people who are abusive to each other, so I tried to give him space and understanding. I showed compassion and tried to have conversations about his feelings. He just kept shutting them down.

For a few years, I went into “fuck it” mode and just had fun. If he wouldn’t talk then at least we could have sex and drink. I made dinner at night, made cocktails for dessert, and we had a lot of sex. I mean, I wanted to have a healthy relationship where we discussed things, but I also only have so much energy and I thought if I gave him time and set a good example by being a loving and communicative spouse, that he would eventually pick up the hints.

Eventually, I tried again to talk about things. He would always follow the same pattern:

• Try to argue me out of my feelings.
• Yell at me for making him feel bad.
• Bully me once I became overwhelmed and cried.

Eventually he started telling me that he hated me and that I should kill myself, but since he would always apologize the next day, I found myself torn. He was clearly getting worse instead of better. I should leave. But, I loved him and I had become attached to the pets he insisted we get and the garden he pushed me to grow for them. Comfort does count for a lot. I figured when he got out of the military, he would get into therapy and get better. I thought we could get back to the way things were the first year when he said “yes” to everything. I thought we’d be best friends again.

Instead, he became wildly abusive and eventually physically violent. It took having a tooth knocked out for me to finally get the picture and leave.

I am ashamed that I stayed for so long.

Sure, I had my boyfriends and saw a cute girl for a few years. I had my comets that came around every so often for sex. In the poly lifestyle, we always have more people around to lift us up when one partner is dragging us down. But, I should have given up sooner. I regret the years I spent trying to help him when he clearly didn’t want help.

And that’s the point I want to make: People who shut down conversations are bad people. Discussion is essential to any healthy partnership. Communication is key.

I won’t forget again.