4. Baylee #2
In the beginning, he brought all the new-relationship flutters.
The thrill of a new boyfriend came with the hope of something unfamiliar.
The butterflies were appealing with every turn.
He and I went on dates and he seemed to love everything about my opinionated personality.
I was full of sass that he welcomed. Even the way he looked at me made me feel alive.
When he picked me up and looked over at me, I felt the heat in his gaze.
And when he listened to me talk about the future, he acted like he was excited about my plans of becoming a physical therapist. At least, he never voiced concerns when I talked about wanting to pursue a career down that path.
But as time moved forward, my strengths became my downfall to him.
His words of affirmation in my ear transformed into whispered slights and jabs to bring me down a peg.
He started to dim the things I thought he loved about me.
I can feel the way he judges my outfits with the way he trails his eyes down my body, processing how he can find words to use against me, instead of lifting me up.
And for some reason, instead of shying away from him like I would expect, I’m becoming more attached.
Like I crave him, even though he’s the opposite of any man I’ve ever been attracted to previously.
The shine of our relationship is wearing off and what I’m left with is someone that seems more interested in showing me off to his friends and coworkers, than one that loves who I truly am.
Now, I’m feeling like he just wants to parade me around, trying to make me into something I’m not.
The skin he would run his fingers along, causing goosebumps along my flesh early on in our relationship, he now asks me to cover when we go out.
He tells me I’m an embarrassment and a slut, words I’d previously have kicked a man in the balls for uttering to my face.
Now, those words paralyze me, stuck deep inside me in a way I never thought possible.
I still remember the first time he said them to me.
The way he stunned me as he whispered them in my ear when we sat at our table at the restaurant.
I felt immobile, convinced I had heard him wrong, my limbs numb as I processed the harshness of his words, holding back tears.
I expected my body to stand up and throw my drink in his face and declare our relationship over.
Instead, I sat there like a statue and when the server arrived, I plastered a smile on my face and ordered my meal. The satisfied look on Myles’s face confirmed he expected me to comply. Disgust spread through me that I allowed him to treat me like that. From there, I accepted my fate.
Embarrassment has washed over me since then.
I fear what my friends and family might think if they ever found out what their strong Baylee has fallen victim to.
I keep his jabs my little secret, like an addict’s.
I tuck his remarks below the surface, where no one can hear or see. I hope I hide it well.
Since that day, I’ve tried to keep him happy with the clothes he asks me to wear.
If I keep him happy, his comments are minimal.
If we have a good night out, then his attitude remains jovial and things feel like they were in the beginning.
Those are the nights I want with us. I’ve never been silenced, yet I’ve allowed him to do this to me. How did I become this girl?
I’m sitting with my drink, once again lost in thought, when I’m pulled back into the conversation around me.
“You know you can break up with him if you’re not happy, right?” Bri says in return.
Brianna isn’t one to stay in a relationship longer than a week it seems. She never stays committed longer than that because she feels this is the time in our lives to experience everything.
I tried to keep up with her for a bit, going on a string of double-dates before finally caving.
It was exhausting. I don’t know how she does it.
Looking back, there’s a part of me that wishes I had stayed on that track.
Instead, I’m stuck in this cycle with Myles, dreading what will likely be a messy breakup.
“Yes, oh wise one,” I tell her while I cheers her with my glass in the air. “But it’s not all bad.” The face I make as I utter the lie gives me away.
The three of them give each other a look that I catch. “What was that?” I point at them.
“What?” Alexis says.
“I saw that look you gave each other. Is there something you need to say to me? What is it?” We don’t play this game with each other. I hate that catty shit some girls play, talking behind each other’s backs and keeping secrets.
Mandy hangs her head. “We’ve noticed that you’ve been a bit more reserved with him. You’re just different, that’s all.”
“What do you mean?” It seems I haven’t been hiding things as well as I thought.
“Baylee, we love you, you know that. But since you’ve been with Myles, you’ve just been a little off,” Bri explains.
“Yeah, like you’re in pain when you’re with him,” Alexis agrees.
I want to burst into tears. It feels like I’m going to burst at the seams if I don’t let this out.
“And you dress so conservatively with him. It’s sort of weird. It’s not you, Baylee. I mean, you’ve got this sick style I’ve always admired, but now, you look like a Stepford Wife. It’s creeping me out. You only do it around him,” Mandy says.
My mouth hangs open with this confession and Mandy soon backtracks. She isn’t usually that blunt, so it’s sort of shocking to hear her describe me like that, even though I'm well aware of how I’ve been dressing lately.
“I’m sorry, okay? But it’s true. You can’t say you don’t see it.
Look at pictures and tell me you don’t see it.
I’m surprised you want to borrow that black dress.
It’s more revealing than anything you’ve worn with him lately.
Then again, you’ll likely put some cardigan over it and make it prim and proper to ensure it shows little skin when you’re around Myles and his people.
You used to have an edge about you, Baylee.
But with him you’ve let it go. Like you’re embarrassed of who you are, or something.
Or he’s made you feel wrong about who you are. Is that it?” Mandy asks.
It’s hard to confess because embarrassment coats my skin right now. But if I don’t tell them now, I’ll never have the courage to do so.
“Don’t be mad. We just thought you should know how we see it from the outside looking in. You’re, like, the coolest person we know. And we don’t want some guy to dim your light, Bay. You need to know we love you,” Bri says, grabbing my hand.
I smile and nod, unable to talk over the frog forming in my throat. This hurts so much, knowing I’ve been carrying this whole thing on my shoulders, and I can’t do it any longer. I look away and that’s when the first tear falls.
“Oh my gosh, no, Baylee, don’t cry.” Alexis makes her way over to comfort me by putting an arm around my shoulder.
I finally find my voice. “There are some things about Myles I need to tell you,” I start, but then I just let go.
Between sobs I tell them everything, from the beginning of the relationship to all the horrible things Myles has said to me in our time together.
I word-vomit, confessing from that first night at the restaurant and how I felt stunned, to all the other times he's made me feel less than.
And with each confession, I see my friends break with me.
By the end of my story, I could hear a pin drop in my apartment. All three of them are crying with me, my sadness their own with my words .
“Oh Baylee, why didn’t you tell us sooner? We didn’t know it was this bad,” Brianna asks.
“I wish I could say it was because I was being strong. But I think it was because I didn’t want you to think less of me.
The longer I stayed, the more trapped I felt.
At first, I thought it was a one-off. But then, little by little, I thought maybe a part of his words were true.
Maybe what he was saying about me was the reason Tucker didn’t want to be with me,” I whisper.
“I never thought I would be this person,” I admit. “I’ve never seen myself living in a life where a man would treat me like this. I was always the person my friends saw kicking ass, no matter what part of life I was in. And here I am, letting a man walk all over me,” I confess.
With that, Mandy scoffs. “Myles is no man to belittle a woman like that, Bay.”
“So, let’s get you back to taking over the world. It starts now,” Alexis says, drawing circles on my back.
“How so?” I look up at her.
“Let’s start with that little black dress,” Mandy says, her smile growing across her face.