Varia Sinichkina
Trigger warning: sexual assault and abusive relationships
My first love, A, would pave the way to my approach to relationships for years to come, but I did not know it then. He was 15, and I was 14. He had brown hair that reached his shoulders, and hazel eyes that changed in the sun. You know how love is at that age: all-encompassing, where nothing makes sense unless the other person is there. I remember being engulfed completely in this boy, obsessed with him to the point of toxicity: if he was out late at night, I would get angry, argue with him endlessly over text. Now, I realize it was out of jealousy - I was not allowed to be out late, with a 10 PM curfew, so to know he was having fun without me was earth-shattering, bringing out something evil in me. The relationship lasted for two years, until I was 16. I told him we should break up, as at this point he was displaying major behavioral issues: he would punch walls when he’d get angry or throw my phone across the room, and he needed my Instagram password to control my online presence. But I still loved him. Of course I did. He was my first in everything, and I had never experienced love before. On the good days, we were great, and my heart swelled for him. But the bad days were really bad.
The day I asked him to break up, we sat in his car on my street and he cried, punched his steering wheel, and screamed at me. He refused to break up, and what was I supposed to say? I was scared. Petrified, even. My neighbor came up to the car, asking what the loud hassle was about, and threatened to call the police if we didn’t go elsewhere. Fine, then, we’re taking a break. We’re not gonna see each other over the summer anyway, I said, and stormed out, running to the safety of my house. And so the summer passed and we didn’t see each other until August. School started in September, and at that point, we would not talk. I suppose we did break up, after all. Soon enough, I found out that he had a girlfriend, which blew my mind. It had only been two weeks since we spoke, and he had a new girl? I felt overprotective and jealous, so we would have sex every once in a while. It made me feel good, like he still loved me more. One day, it didn’t go as planned. Something set him off and he was pinning me down to the bed, threatening me and my family. He grabbed hold of my shirt and tangled it,choking me, while he pulled my hair. I was lucky he didn’t punch me. I never told anybody.
My next love, S, was gentle, though I don’t know if I chose him because of this, or if it just happened. It was a drastic change from the previous one. He was of a short stature, with dark hair and eyes to match. He felt like a teddy bear, and I was drawn to his kindness. We spent one night together in Sweden after seeing ASAP Rocky together, and spoke for weeks to come. I even sent him a book with annotations, and he sent me rings from his brand with a cute note. We next saw each other in London, where we spent a week together. After that, we spoke a little more, but it fizzled out. Funnily enough, I wasn’t upset. I suppose it meant I didn’t really love him, just appreciated his company.
When I moved to New York, I met a guy during the end of my first year. Let’s call him P. He was lovely, caring, and devoted to me. Tall, adorned by tattoos all over his body, and the bluest eyes ever. We started dating soon after, and I even met his mother at his family home in Long Island. She loved me, and we still talk to this day. I left for Spain for the summer and it was heartbreaking: we both cried, and I sobbed the entire flight back. He moved to Atlanta, so it was a given that we wouldn’t see each other again. Until I decided to fly to Atlanta. I spent a week there with him, and on the way back, my flight was canceled so I stayed a couple days more. One thing I take pride in is my gut feelings and their accuracy. I went through his phone one morning as he slept. I know what you’re thinking: invasion of privacy, asking for the worst – I know. But I had to. And rightfully so: he had cheated on me the same day he cried about me leaving. P still reaches out to me sometimes, but I can never look at him the same. Also, I realize now he love-bombed me into the relationship; it all moved way too fast. I learnt to trust my gut, always.
The two most recent lovers caused a clash within me: T was fantastic, and we would talk for hours and hours every time we’d meet. There was never a moment of boredom, and I learned so much from him. But at the same time I met N, and he was just so me. I felt comfortable around him from the first day we met, and eventually, we started dating. In the long run, looking back, I wonder if I made a mistake. I texted T an apology, where I said how much I appreciated our connection and would love to be friends, but I had a boyfriend now and I was sorry about how things turned out. He unfollowed me on social media, and we did not cross paths again, until a month ago. N taught me what healthy love should be. N was the one who changed my approach to love and really demonstrated what an adult relationship entails. But I was often bored with N, we ran out of things to talk about, and I began to display toxic tendencies all over again. It caused me to wonder: are my toxic tendencies rooted inside, or are they a product of the person I am with? Will I always be toxic at the core, or will I finally untangle myself and learn how to speak my feelings?
All of my other lovers taught me something: to trust my instincts, to not be afraid of letting go when the time has come, to have patience, to learn about myself and my approaches to love. When it comes to my own toxicity, I reflect upon it often, and I have concluded that it is a result of the person I am with, and a direct reflection of my unhappiness in a relationship. I truly believe that, once the person is right, me and my toxic tendencies will feel it, and they will be abandoned.
However, I, too, wonder whether I have ever really been in love. After all, isn’t it supposed to be so obvious that you cannot escape it? I’m not sure I’ve felt something like that yet. Close to it, but not fully. My mother says it is A’s fault: he ruined my view on romantic relationships. I think maybe it’s just something inside me, or a matter of not finding the one yet. Whatever it may be, I remain hopeful in this unexpected search for my forever person.
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