Maybe I’m just really cynical, but when I look back on the only real relationship I’ve had, in hindsight it seems like everything was all about him.
I think he was really insecure and I made him feel good about himself and that was what he liked about dating me. We were always watching his movies, listening to his music, hanging out with his friends. Every night he’d call me to complain about all his problems. Even when he complimented me, it wasn’t about me, it was about how he related to me (“you make me feel so…”). And he did all this “chivalrous” crap, but even that came off less like true concern for me and more like “look at what a gentleman I am.” One day I was crying and he brought a gift over for me, but he ruined it by then making a big show about how he was going to be late to work because of this diversion, just look at the sacrifice I’m making for you, and then the gift was a CD he had burned that was much more to his tastes than mine. We dated after my first bout of illness and anytime I so much as mentioned it, the conversation ended up becoming me assuring him that it probably won’t happen again, so don’t worry.
I initiated the breakup and I have to admit I wasn’t completely honest with him about why I did it. I did the whole “it’s not you, it’s me,” thing, which was part of it, but a big part of it was definitely him. The one bit of truth that did finally come out after a grueling hour of listening to him cry on the phone was when I told him, “every evening you call me up all depressed, and I always wanted to help you, I still do, but it’s not working as a relationship because I feel like I can’t tell you any of my problems because you’re already depressed. Like that I think I’m getting sick again.” A month later I started my second bout of illness.
A while later he had the gall to tell me, “oh yeah, by the way, my cousin gave up on the girl he was interested in because he doesn’t believe in love anymore after seeing as perfect a couple as you and I fail,” WTF.
Anyway, this probably didn’t deserve a full-blown rant; we were only 16 so the main problem was likely just that we both needed to grow up a lot.