Les moules mariniere w fries

I made a post a few weeks ago about my partner being a pathological liar and a porn addict. That post was really long, this one will be much shorter (coming back after writing this to say jk, it’s still long AF). 

You all commented and warned me that he sounded insane, irredeemable. Many of you suggested I disclose his behavior to his parents. 

I finally spoke to his sister and mother today. Everything he has ever told me about himself was a lie. Every. Single. Thing. From day one. 

He fabricated a car accident, watching his best friend die in the driver seat. Bodily injuries, being crushed in the wreck, his body reinforced with metal plates and screws all along his left side. He faked a limp for 2 years, multiple doctor appointments related to this injury. Follow ups to inject acid to kill nerve growth around his implants, appointments to shunt and drain his high intracranial pressure. He said his extremely wealthy parents didn’t pay for his college like they did for his sisters, that he was paying $2k/month in loans — this was because they spent all his college fund on his medical bills. 

None of that ever happened. Not a single bit. I can’t even list every lie, it would become a novel. 

It’s extra fucked up because I’m disabled, actually. He let me struggle to do things while he sat and rested because I believed he was similarly disabled. I pushed myself past my limits because he claimed the space of the person who would help me — for example, I didn’t recruit friends to help me move, because he offered so insistently. Day of moving he was “in too much pain” and sat on his ass while I moved everything myself. I hurt myself doing so. So many times I needed support and didn’t get it because of the manipulation. He faked it so convincingly and consistently for so long. He would take my medication, my flexeril and klonopin and prescription lidocaine patches when I offered them to help his symptoms when he was at my house. 

He faked being in therapy for over a year. “I can’t sleep over tonight I have therapy in the morning.” I heard that several times a month for over a year. He would fabricate what they talked about, and how it was going. He hasn’t been in therapy. He went for one month and stopped. I was under the impression he had been going for nearly 2 years. His mom said they’ve begged him to go and offered to pay for it all. He told me he’s broke because of all the money he’s spending on therapy. 

He let me pay for everything, believing I was better off. He lived at home in his parents’ mansion for free. The $2k student loans? That was money his dad took from his paycheck to put in a HYS account for him to have a cushion. That account sits at over $36k with some amount of appreciation. Where was the rest of his money going? Not toward the $600-800/mo he said was for therapy. Not for the cost of doctor’s appointments related to his non existent injuries.  

I have no family, mine abused me. I’ve been on my own since 17, working since 13. I work against doctor’s orders while disabled to afford security and a roof over my head. I crash and take several days to recover after working. He let me pay for everything. 

The worst thing he did wasn’t stealing my health, siphoning off my nervous system to stabilize his own, making me sicker. It wasn’t taking advantage of me financially, impacting my work, putting me at material risk. It wasn’t even the lies and the fighting, manipulating my reality, gaslighting me, making me doubt my instincts. 

The worst thing he did was make me believe I had a family. I did months of therapy to accept that I could have good things, to try to grow closer to his family. I came to family events even though I’d break down crying every time when I got home, because it hurts so badly to be around a healthy, happy family. He made me believe that his family could be mine — his sisters could be my sisters, his sister’s newborn baby could be my niece. His parents, such smart and stable and kind people, could be my parents. I spent so much money and effort toward holidays trying to show thoughtfulness toward them and build a relationship. Spent hours in the kitchen and hundreds of dollars to contribute to meals. Spent 8 hours researching what kind of gifts I could give to people who had everything (and came up with some really good ones too). Bought up everything I could afford from his sister’s baby registry and then some stuff that wasn’t on the registry. The time and money hurts, but not as bad as feeling the loss of family again. 

I didn’t know people could lie like this. I never had a relationship with him at all, I was just the only one who didn’t know. It was entirely fabricated. I dated a ghost. A fictional character. 

My disability was in remission when I met him. I went from being able to work 3-4 days a week, working out and going for walks to barely being able to work 1 day per week, and being completely unable to exercise without significant PEM. I developed 2 additional conditions and was started on 4 new medications in the time I was with him. Two years, and I’m sicker now than I’ve ever been. 

I’m in therapy four days a week, 6.5 hrs per week. 

I was happy, recovering, and doing well in my business when I met him. I was mentally and emotionally well, the healthiest I’d ever been. 

If you need a reason to break up with a man, take this as a sign. It is NOT WORTH IT. It’s not worth your health, sanity, career, material stability. If you have a good one, I’m happy for you, and this message isn’t about you. 

I don’t know where to end. I’m in shock. I can’t even convey the extent or the depth of it all. This is just me shouting into the void, to the only place I find community anymore since he isolated me from my friends. Thank you girls for being here. Even though we don’t know each other, it means a lot to me. I appreciate you all. I read your stories every day. 

I hope I have a happier story to share with you next time. 

I found out he was even worse than I thought