In the month following the breakup, we began to message each other constantly. We communicated through Twitter, Facebook and text messaging. Eventually we used the Facebook video chat, which he used numerous times to jack off in front of me, a practice which bewildered me but didn’t entirely corrupt me as I couldn’t see much. It was during this time that he began to tell me about himself, painting a picture of himself as a man wronged by the world, misunderstood by everyone and abused by his “psycho Marine stepfather”. He told numerous horror stories of how he was forced to slave away in his home as a child, in which he would be beaten if chores weren’t done perfectly. He told me of how he was threatened in high school by someone who had been his best friend. Because of the fear of the threat, he believed he’d sacrificed a girl he liked. Then, in case I should accidentally Google his name, he told me the infamous story about how he’d exposed himself to a drive-thru coffee barista and was subsequently arrested. His defense? She deserved it, as she was apparently dressed in very skimpy clothing. I should have picked up on that single story as a clue to his behavior, but I didn’t. He used the stories of his home life to pay on my compassion and sympathy, and ultimately manipulated me into leaving with him.
Theo played his part perfectly: a loving boyfriend who would devote himself to me, who would be with me until, and even after death. In fact, he’d made me promise not to date anyone after he passed, promising he’d do the same thing for me. This struck me as odd, but not immediately concerning. But as time passed, inconsistencies in his story became more and more apparent. Within the first two weeks, he had me dress in showy outfits, but at the same time, instructed me to wear sunglasses both indoors and out, telling me not to speak to anyone, fearing I would not be able to control myself and give strangers the impression I wanted them sexually, in his words, the “fuck me eyes”, a practice he’d supposedly seen in his previous ex-girlfriends. This practice he condemned if I looked at men, but even further condemned if I did it with women as he had a bias towards all women and believed they were all lesbians and man-haters. How could he exempt one women from a stereotype he held of all women? This is a mystery to me, even to this day.
The women he did hate he objectified, allowing himself to point out features on any woman he found desirable, even going so far as to ask me if he could watch porn to relieve his extreme sex drive: irony at its best. The porn was only one minor example of the sex drive. He frequently took me into numerous public restrooms and jacked off or made me perform oral on him, often guilting me into it when I refused, using his irrational fear of me cheating on him as a tool.