The Butthead Series: Part 1

I won’t be using real names in this series. If you’re in my life, you know who you are and what role you play. If you’re no longer in my life and you happen across these posts… you’ll know exactly who you are and what you did.

Butthead is the nickname I gave my very first serious boyfriend. I could have been more accurate with the words asshole, cheater, liar, or rapist, but I was 19 and didn’t know what I was getting myself into. At the time when he entered my life, I was a sophomore in college, and doing quite well on the surface. I had a stable job, I was getting excellent grades, and I was on the hunt for someone to love me. I was also living with friends that I had met in the dorms, so I had an active social life. However, my addictions were spiraling out of control. The self-harm was done weekly, and the drinking was whenever I felt like it. I was actively embracing the college lifestyle, and hating every minute of it.

At that point I would’ve settled for anything, and boy did I. When you spend your whole life feeling unwanted and unworthy, you crave that affection. You need to be loved, and to know that somebody cares. Since I often observed others meeting men and developing relationships, I wanted someone of my own. Ironically I settled for a man that would never be my own, as surprise! He was already married and had his own family. 19 year-old me went ahead full throttle despite this fact, as I didn’t think I was good enough to have someone to myself. By the time I found out, we had been talking for months. I was already lost in the sauce, as the kids would say. I had no chance to crawl out of the hole that I had dug, despite my friends warning me. And his smile. It was the type of smile that would get a girl into trouble.

I want to make something very clear. I didn’t settle for some type of trash panda that wandered in from the garbage outside. I snagged a hot one. And when I say hot, I mean holy shit I can’t breathe around you type hot. The first time I saw him in the corner of our Rock and Roll History class, I stopped dead in my tracks. I literally stopped walking and full on stared at him. Luckily he didn’t see me drool, as he was looking towards the professor. I don’t know what possessed me that day. Maybe it was the adorable little heart dress I was wearing, or maybe it was because I had never seen someone so attractive in person. What did I do? I worked up the courage to sit next to him. I even took it a step further and spoke to him. The second he opened his mouth, I was hooked like a kid on candy.

Most people can’t pinpoint the exact moment of their demise. I sure can. It was the day I decided to sit next to Butthead, and it rocked my world for 3 long, nightmarish years. Welcome to the thunder-dome.

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