Boyfriends can be the bane of my existence.
Well, not my man, as I seem to have struck gold in
that department, but those of my dearest girlfriends. At one point I would have
struggled to bring myself to like any of the significant others hanging off the
arms of my best buds. I was always civil to them, mind you, but behind their
backs lay a very concerned friend.
I thought that time would change things but it
seems that that is not always the case.
In my younger years, a disliked boyfriend was just
that. Someone you didn’t like, someone you thought wasn’t up to par with those
preconceived standards about your girlfriend. I always thought they deserved so
much better, did not understand why they chose to put up with the fights and
the heartbreak and were unable to see their boyfriends for what they truly were
– jerks.
The wisdom that comes with age brings a lot more
responsibility. And opens your eyes a lot more about concerns that I would have
never thought of as a high school kid.
A darling friend of mine has been with her boy for
some time, and I have never ever
liked him. My dislike is not fuelled by some gut instinct (although I must
admit that plays some role in this), nor some old belief that he is not worthy
of her.
My hatred and worry stems from the way he treats
her, with disrespect. It stems from his controlling ways, and I have seen her
drift away from old friends, especially male friends, even if the relationship is
merely platonic. My anger stems from his outbursts of anger, in which he has said
horrible things about her character, and if you know her the way I know her, she
is the last person in the world you would say such horrible things about, for she
is one of the sweetest nicest people I have ever had the grace to meet.
And therein lies the problem. Within the heart of every
woman is a belief you can change the worst of their lovers, and the sympathy to
stay, for you cannot help who you fall in love with, and sometimes the strength
to realise that things will never be what you want them to be is not always evident.
I believe a man that truly loves a woman does not say
things, hateful and hurtful things, that deliberately belittle his so-called ‘loved-one’s’
character. He does not repeatedly call her stupid, he does not force her to cut
contact with male friends and he does not make derogatory comments such as
accusations of being a slut.
It hurts when I have to watch her hurting, for no
reason asides from the harsh lies that pour from the lips of someone she cannot
help loving.
I fear the verbal abuse is just beginning, and I
fear that if their relationship progresses any further, it will turn into
physical abuse.
I worry that I cannot be there for her, and pray
that she has the strength to make the right decisions on her own.
It scares me that she is not the only woman I have
known to endure the same issues, and that all these women may potentially be
victims in the future. And to realise, that all these smart, beautiful, caring
women let themselves be hurt the way they do, be demoralized the way they do by
men who do not seem to see them for the wonderful people they are, is an issue
that will forever haunt me.
In the meantime, I can only be there for you, old
friend. You know where to find me.
