I was a sophomore in college when I met Logan. Trying to manage a good grade in Calculus, I decided to meet with a tutor that could give me the help I needed. I signed the sheet after class one day and left my phone number in addition to my email address. Once I arrived at the campus library, I found out it was a study group and not one-on-one tutoring. This was my first time going to tutoring in my life. I was used to studying at home by myself, and during high school, I never picked up a single book for help.
Many unfamiliar faces filled the seats of the table I was supposed to sit at. I couldn’t go through with it. I was an introverted, awkward girl at the time, and that resulted in me sitting two tables away trying to eavesdrop on their study session. That didn’t work, so I put in my headphones and listened to Wu-Tang Clan while I completed my other psychology homework I had shoved in my bookbag. I felt the vibration of a tap on the table and looked up. “Why aren’t you over there sitting with us?” said a boy who appeared to be a grade younger than me. Actually, he was a grade younger than me. “Class of 1999” was printed on his turquoise shirt.“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied. “My name’s Logan. I saw you sign the sheet after class yesterday. So why aren’t you studying with us?” I tried not to laugh. I always laughed in situations that made me anxious. I looked down, placed my head in my hand, and proceeded to complete my work. “Alright. That’s fine. You can ignore me, but you can’t ignore your grade.”
I rolled my eyes and began packing up my things. I didn’t have time for this. I could just do my work back at the dorm lounge room. I felt Logan’s eyes watch me as I passed by their table towards the exit. I didn’t actually finish my work to be honest. I took a nap, made macaroni and cheese, and watched Law and Order. I started to fall asleep on the couch when my phone lit up letting me know I had a new text message. It was from an 803 area code, South Carolina. I only knew that because my step father lived there, and it showed up every time my mom called from his phone. I refused to save his name because I didn’t like him, and I still don’t. Anyways, the words that popped up said: “Hey, it’s Logan. Why are you so rude?”
I had never seen this kid in the two years I’d been at the University. It freaked me out how he found my phone number, but then I remembered the sign up sheet. Great, I had a stalker.  I had that much more to make me anxious about. I ignored the message, but he didn’t stop trying to talk to me. Five missed calls and seven new texts. I eventually gave up ignoring him. It turned out he wanted to have a make-up study session. I thought it was weird he went through all of that effort just to help me with math, but hey, if he cared that much about my studies then maybe he deserved a chance.
We started meeting twice a week, and my grade went from a high D to a low B. After the semester ended, Logan still proceeded to meet with me at the library coffee shop downstairs.  He confessed his feelings for me after only two months of knowing each other. I thought it was cute and decided to give him a shot. We had movie dates in his dorm room every friday night, and we went out for pasta every wednesday. Everything about him and our relationship was great, but after only three months of being together, things took a turn for the worst.
This was something I never saw coming. Logan began getting extremely jealous whenever I’d go out with some of my girlfriends. He constantly accused me of being a cheater and not loving him. I couldn’t help but think he was just insecure, so I ignored it and constantly reassured him my love for him hadn’t changed. Overtime, he began restricting me from doing the things I enjoyed doing. I stopped going to parties, out with friends, and talking to anyone that wasn’t a girl. I was confined to my dorm and sometimes his. I was only allowed to go to the gym and the dining hall. If my family came into town, it was “acceptable” for me to hangout with them but only if Logan was invited. Logan invited himself everywhere I went.
My depression and anxiety I managed to get rid of came spiraling back, and my medication was not helping. I truly did love Logan, but I knew being with him wasn’t best for me. Every time I left, I found myself crying and wishing I was back in a relationship with him. Mentally abused or not, Logan was all that I wanted. I made a habit out of being mentally abused. I told myself it was okay and that maybe I really didn’t need to go out with friends or go to parties. I accepted the fact I wouldn’t be allowed to do anything, but as long as I was with Logan, I was “happy.”
I should’ve left then. It became harder to separate myself from him as time went on. Whenever he got mad during an argument, his fist would slam down on the table just inches from me. He yelled and screamed at me for not understanding some of the things he talked about. I would misread a text and ask for clarification, and the next thing I knew, Logan was spitting insults at me and telling me I’m crazy. He made me question my own sanity when everyone around me told me it was all him. “The King of Manipulation,” my mother called him. Abuse was his specialty, and I ordered it off the menu every single time.
If I could go back and restart that day in the library I’m not sure that I would. Logan was an immature, abusive, and insecure boy. He didn’t know right from wrong, and I’m not sure he has changed much since then. I can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if I had said something different or did something different. I question myself and my actions to this day. I think about how stupid I must’ve appeared to my friends and family because I went to them every single time Logan and I had a fight or broke up. “Just leave him,” they would tell me. “You would be so much happier alone and free from him.” I knew I should’ve listened, but I was emotionally attached to Logan. I didn’t want to be alone. I did love him, and I did enjoy being around him on his good days.
***
But, your partner shouldn’t treat you differently on their bad days. They should express their feelings and tell you everything that went wrong without letting it out on you. They should reciprocate the love you have for them, and they should be there when you have a rough day and need to vent - not roll their eyes and say you’re being dramatic. If your partner truly loves you, they won’t make you feel stupid for sharing your own thoughts and opinions. Relationships are built on love not anger. Logan taught me what not to look for in a partner. Thank you, Logan. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be who I am today. Strong and careful.
I feel as if this story I shared can be mainly relatable to most girls in their late teens and early twenties and perhaps those of all ages. So, if I have one thing to say it’s that you should end a toxic relationship before it gets worse. You may think you can change a person or that they will change for you, but 99% of the time, they won’t. That’s not to say that some relationships don’t get better because some end up succeeding. If you find yourself reading my story and noticing you’re in the identical or closely related situation, you may want to reconsider your relationship for the sake of your own mental and emotional health. I don’t want to see anyone go through the same pain and suffering that I experienced when there is one simple solution to the problem: leave.