I'm not your fixer-upper [LJ Idol season 9, week 10]
I had this boyfriend back in college. Let's call him David. David was a genuinely nice guy: he was friendly, wasn't mean or cruel to anyone, and he was generally positive about life. He had a lot of good qualities. Obviously he had some bad ones, too, but everyone does. I did my best to accept him for who he was, taking the bad with the good.
Too bad he wasn't willing to do the same for me.
It started pretty much as soon as we officially started dating. He kept pushing me to be more social and to try new foods, both of which give me lots of anxiety and a world of do not want. There was no way I was going to start doing those things just because he said so. Less than a month into our relationship, I told him flat out that things were not going to work out between us if he was going to try to change me. His response was, “People change in relationships.” I told him, “Not because one partner decides they're going to change the other!” He assured me that he'd back off. I took him at his word, but I had my doubts.
Two weeks later, it was Valentine's Day, and we were making dinner. I happened to watch him make our salads. He laid a slice of tomato on the bottom of my bowl before adding the lettuce. I don't eat tomatoes. He knew that I don't eat tomatoes. And yet. I kept my anger silent, staying outwardly calm, until it was time to eat. The moment I sat down with my salad, I pulled out the tomato slice and dumped it onto his bowl. “Don't. Do. That.” He claimed it was a joke. It wasn't.
Another day, he suggested we eat lunch together at a place on campus. When I got there, I discovered he meant us and fifteen other people from band. People he was friends or acquaintances with and who I only knew by face and name, if that. “You need to be more social!” he said to me once again. I made it clear that I didn't appreciate the ambush; he made it clear that he didn't care. After all, he was doing it for my own good.
Another dinner, this time with friends. We talked about finances and credit cards. I mentioned that I had a balance on my credit card, much to the shock and horror of everyone at the table. I shrugged and pointed out that making payments on something is actually not bad for your credit. Two weeks later, David asked me out of the blue, all concerned, “Did you get that credit card taken care of?” Shocked, I told him, “That's none of your business!” We'd been dating maybe three months; my financial decisions were absolutely not something he got a say in, no matter what he thought.
It wasn't just the big things he tried to “fix,” either. Smaller things started getting commentary, too.
He watched me brush my teeth. “You should brush in circles.”
Driving. “You shouldn't stay in the left lane.”
And then the more personal stuff.
“You need to work on your body issues.”
“You're too independent.”
And so on, and so on.
“You should --”
“You shouldn't --”
ENOUGH.
I don't like bullies. I have a history of not giving in to bullies. I don't care if I'm dating you or not: you don't get to push me around. Not even if you think you're doing it for my own good.
Look, I am who I am. I am not perfect. I have flaws. I have issues. I am weird and goofy and introverted. I battle depression and anxiety of multiple flavors. I refuse to try new foods and I hide from new people. Yes, I'm trying to change some of these things, but I'm doing it on my terms, no one else's. In the meantime, this is just who I am. If you're going to love me, love me for who I am, not for who you want me to be.
And for the love of God, don't treat me like a child. I know how to freaking brush my teeth.
Too bad he wasn't willing to do the same for me.
It started pretty much as soon as we officially started dating. He kept pushing me to be more social and to try new foods, both of which give me lots of anxiety and a world of do not want. There was no way I was going to start doing those things just because he said so. Less than a month into our relationship, I told him flat out that things were not going to work out between us if he was going to try to change me. His response was, “People change in relationships.” I told him, “Not because one partner decides they're going to change the other!” He assured me that he'd back off. I took him at his word, but I had my doubts.
Two weeks later, it was Valentine's Day, and we were making dinner. I happened to watch him make our salads. He laid a slice of tomato on the bottom of my bowl before adding the lettuce. I don't eat tomatoes. He knew that I don't eat tomatoes. And yet. I kept my anger silent, staying outwardly calm, until it was time to eat. The moment I sat down with my salad, I pulled out the tomato slice and dumped it onto his bowl. “Don't. Do. That.” He claimed it was a joke. It wasn't.
Another day, he suggested we eat lunch together at a place on campus. When I got there, I discovered he meant us and fifteen other people from band. People he was friends or acquaintances with and who I only knew by face and name, if that. “You need to be more social!” he said to me once again. I made it clear that I didn't appreciate the ambush; he made it clear that he didn't care. After all, he was doing it for my own good.
Another dinner, this time with friends. We talked about finances and credit cards. I mentioned that I had a balance on my credit card, much to the shock and horror of everyone at the table. I shrugged and pointed out that making payments on something is actually not bad for your credit. Two weeks later, David asked me out of the blue, all concerned, “Did you get that credit card taken care of?” Shocked, I told him, “That's none of your business!” We'd been dating maybe three months; my financial decisions were absolutely not something he got a say in, no matter what he thought.
It wasn't just the big things he tried to “fix,” either. Smaller things started getting commentary, too.
He watched me brush my teeth. “You should brush in circles.”
Driving. “You shouldn't stay in the left lane.”
And then the more personal stuff.
“You need to work on your body issues.”
“You're too independent.”
And so on, and so on.
“You should --”
“You shouldn't --”
ENOUGH.
I don't like bullies. I have a history of not giving in to bullies. I don't care if I'm dating you or not: you don't get to push me around. Not even if you think you're doing it for my own good.
Look, I am who I am. I am not perfect. I have flaws. I have issues. I am weird and goofy and introverted. I battle depression and anxiety of multiple flavors. I refuse to try new foods and I hide from new people. Yes, I'm trying to change some of these things, but I'm doing it on my terms, no one else's. In the meantime, this is just who I am. If you're going to love me, love me for who I am, not for who you want me to be.
And for the love of God, don't treat me like a child. I know how to freaking brush my teeth.