One of us in the making [3]

Within the first week that we started talking, you repeated over and over that we were going to get married. I thought it was a joke until you made it very clear that no, we were going to get married for sure. That freaked me out. It’s not that I didn’t like you, or that I didn’t find something special in you, but I knew myself. I tend to get bored easily.

Still, everyone kept telling me that you were good for me and I shouldn’t be my typical self and run away.

So I stayed. It took me a much longer time than you, but I did fall in love with you. I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but I did fall hopelessly in love with you. To be honest, it was the first time I had ever felt real love in my 28 years of life.

I asked you to move in with me after 6 months. You needed a place to live after you were put in a bad situation at the place you were living at, so I offered for you to move in with me. It made sense. I had a very good job and was making a healthy amount of money. Aside from school loans, I was debt free. I lived in a two-story condo in a gated community.

But you hated living in my hometown. Hated it with a vile passion. The culture was different and you were 2 hours away from your family (that you obsess over). I did everything to make you happy. I bought you tons of things to keep your spirits up. I travelled over an hour to go pick up two rescued puppies for you, even though I’m not the biggest dog person. I like dogs, but I can’t take care of them. At the time, I didn’t realize that you couldn’t either.

In my pursuit to make you happy, I went overboard. I bought you extravagant things that I put on credit cards. I racked up debt so quickly. I lost my car insurance because your car insurance was through the roof and my car insurance wouldn’t let me add you because you had your license suspended a few years prior from unpaid tickets. I went from paying $88/mo to $362/mo because you needed insurance and no one would take you without me.

But I loved you, and I would do anything for you. I didn’t care.

I bought you a ring. I stupidly paid WAY too much for it. That was another load of debt that I piled on. It didn’t matter at the time though. I wanted to marry you, and you wanted to marry me. We went to Disneyland on our one year anniversary, but you had previously told me you wanted a big show when I propose, so I didn’t want to do it when you expected it. You cried at the end of the night because you thought I was going to propose. I told you to be patient.

I proposed the following month, after extensively preparing for it. I had your mom, your stepdad, and your sister go with us to Disneyland (your favorite place), and we held up signs on Splash Mountain when the picture was taken. Each sign had one word we each held up. Will. You. Marry. Me? I’m smiling thinking about how happy you were on that day. You said it was a “perfect” proposal—so much better than you imagined.

But that happiness faded when we got home. Not long after, you made it clear you wanted to move away from the “shithole” we lived in. You took a job 2 hours away, so we had to move. We couldn’t find decent places because no one accepted dogs. Understandably, since I had to pay $1500 to replace the carpets the dogs destroyed in my condo.

I started seeing a therapist. I was so depressed and didn’t know how to handle it. I started taking medication.

We moved to a small house in the middle of nowhere halfway between our jobs because I couldn’t find a job near the area you worked. Not one that paid me as well, that is. You resented me and said I didn’t look hard enough. Nonetheless, you “compromised,” saying you would make the hour long drive to your job because I was doing that too. That was fair.

This, too, annoyed you. You began to despise the commute. You grew angry at me that we were in such a shitty situation. You demanded I look for jobs near your own job so we could move as soon as our lease was up.

I did look. But we would soon be moving to a prominent city—an expensive one—and we couldn’t afford anywhere without my salary. I make twice what you make and we were barely going to scrape by with the cost of living in that city.

But I loved you.

Before we moved, we took out a terrible loan for our wedding. We then got screwed out of a place we originally thought we’d get married at, so $2,500 went down the drain. We fought a lot about that. We had serious doubts about whether or not we should even get married.

But we did it anyway. We got married. And it was beautiful, despite the fact that we argued the morning of our wedding.

Then we had the task of finding a place. I kept looking for a job, but nothing was good enough. I couldn’t afford to take a pay cut. Every place we looked at, the rent was astronomically high, along with pet rent. Oh, and we had an additional problem. You brought home another puppy one day. You also accumulated 3 chameleons...which were also banned in many areas we looked at.

We finally settled on a small apartment that allowed two dogs. We constantly have to hide the third dog, even though he’s the most mischievous. In fact, we had to narrow our apartment search because we had to have wooden floors. Our third dog has a tendency to randomly pee and poop in the house, even though 9/10 he goes outside. The smaller area has also driven our dogs into hysteric boredom, so they have chewed EVERYTHING. They destroyed the $1500 couches I purchased the first 8 months of us dating.

Unsurprisingly, I made the decision to stay at my old job and make the even further commute. I drive an hour and 45 minutes to work every day, and you tell me I should stay out there with family members because you don’t want me spending gas so often. An absolutely reasonable request, but I’ve become a total recluse. I don’t feel comfortable even at my family’s houses. I prefer the comfort of my own home.

You lie to me about how much money we have. Shortly after you moved in with me (about 3 years ago), I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable with me making more money than you, so I switched my bank and we got a joint checking account. We both had personal checking accounts as well, but I made sure to get my direct deposit transferred to the joint account. You never changed your direct deposit. You said it was hassle—even though it’s simply filling out a form and contacting your HR...which is what I did. Only within this last month did you finally switch your direct deposit (after I threatened to officially change mine to my personal account). But you’ve hoarded money in your personal account for years and are still doing it. You claimed it was to “save” since we’re so “bad with money,” but you would never let me see it. Never. You said I couldn’t be trusted. That’s odd, since most of it is my money. Half of my paycheck is gone the first of the month because of our rent and pet rent we pay. You chastise me if I buy anything for myself, but you smoke a pack of cigarettes per week and buy a bottle of wine 2-3 times a week. And let’s not talk about the hundreds of dollars you spend on the dogs per month...

You recently told me you’re not IN love with me anymore. I’ve changed. I don’t get dressed up anymore. That’s entirely due to the fact that I gained 70 lbs after we started dating. You are 115 lbs and are a human garbage disposal but remain the same weight. You have been known to go to In N Out twice in one day. However, my weight gain is not your fault. That’s on me. But you tell me that you wish I were more confident, but ridicule me for the way I eat because it makes me fat. You don’t even desire me anymore at all. I can count on one hand how many times we’ve been intimate in the past two years. And the lack of desire wasn’t from me...

There’s so much more that I could say, but the point is...I’m so angry that I chose you. Im angry that you broke down my walls and took everything from me. My body, my sanity, my money, my happiness...these are things that make me resent YOU.

I’m not innocent in all this. I know that. I could have been better, but I did the best I could. Now I’m left with a choice: I either stay with you and remain miserable, or I leave you and will be fat, alone, and depressed.

Either way I lose.

EDIT: I probably should’ve mentioned this in the letter, but I’m a woman, lol. I honestly didn’t think many people would read it. It was just meant to be therapeutic. Nonetheless, I thank you all for the supportive words!