He was never physical but the emotional slights hurt just as much... each time he was blatantly unfaithful it felt like razor blades slashing across my heart; when he spoke he lied constantly... even about unimportant things and he would never even concede that he loved me (as he was a wounded person who was incapable of love) ... he just said he liked me enough to screw. He constantly reminded me that he hated the female race, teachers, brunettes... everything I am and seemed to take a peculiar pleasure in witholding his affection; only being nice when i got really angry or when I was a good girl and didn't ask for too much.
Why was I such a sucker for him? He constantly looked wounded and sad, I loved him so much and would do almost anything to help him feel better. He said his wife didn't care about him and that they lived their own lives, only sharing their family home for the sake of the children.
If I disliked me as much as he seemed to, I would have never had sex in the first place, let alone time after time after time. I have only just completely broken all ties with him so it feels lonely and strange but I know I had to or end up in an asylum. What was good about him, you may wonder? He was cute and aroused the same kind of love in me as you feel for a new born baby; had loads of charisma and charm and did always seem to be intimately sharing confidences and his own vulnerability. When it was good, it was so very good but those moments were as rare as hen's teeth. I thought if i just kept hanging in there he would eventually see that I really loved him and would be good for him and we could live happily and peacefully ever after. Shame I was living in one big fairytale!