I Lost My Friend To A Terrible Man
by Anonymous
“I read somewhere that friendships that last seven years last a lifetime,” said my friend Laura, while we walked arm-in-arm, to our favorite bar with those giant margaritas in fish bowls.
We’d lived together for three years (the final two of college, and one after), and had been friends for six. We bonded as roommates in college where almost everyone was in a sorority—except us. Laura and I both had immigrant parents and had after-school jobs. Both of our dads built their wealth from dirt and wanted to instill a work ethic in their kids – something we didn’t see much of in our BMW-driving, skip-class-for-hangovers classmates. We preferred museums to frat parties and vintage dresses to Juicy Couture. I loved Laura so much.
But we wouldn’t see our seven-year friendship anniversary, and now haven’t spoken in many years.
Sometimes I feel responsible for the demise of our friendship.
After graduating college, I started freelance writing, which luckily got me invited to every restaurant opening and gallery exhibit and trendy event I could have ever imagined. I got busy building my career. We went from being attached at the hip, to seeing each other once or twice a month. I should have known I couldn’t be her “person” forever, but part of me thought I could be.
Then one day, over iced tea and sunshine, she said, “I met somebody. And I know this sounds crazy, but I think I’m gonna marry him.”
It of course did sound crazy. But, what was the harm in a little dreaming? It’s not like she was actually rushing things or displaying any unhealthy behaviors. Yet.
When I first met Nick, I honestly thought he may be her person, too.
He had a way of staring so deeply into your eyes and asking you such specific questions that he made you feel like the most interesting person in the world.
Nick was 11 years older than Laura. He was 35. She was 24. But isn’t age just a number?
It was difficult not to be a little charmed by him. He was one of those people who “knew a guy” everywhere and “could make a call” to get you what you wanted. He tipped bouncers and hosts and he always skipped the line. He picked up the tab for everyone. He remembered everyone’s name at every venue. And he remembered everything I ever told him. I liked him.
Over the next few months, I started to notice things. Strange things. Things that I’d eventually realize were power-grabs on Nick’s part.
After Laura and Nick had been been dating for three months she confided in me that all they had done is kiss. And then three months after that, she said they’d never had sex. She loved it. After a string of aggressive men, she said it was nice.
I didn’t buy it.
After more time passed, I started to get inquisitive. I challenged her on it. She snapped at me for prioritizing sex too much. Like, really snapped. I’d never seen that side of her before.
A few weeks later, she called me, breathless. She could barely speak. I rushed over to her in the middle of the night.
“He’s gone,” she sobbed into my chest when I showed up.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know. We saw each other last week. He said we’d meet up this weekend, then nothing. He never called. I called him two times. No answer. Nothing.”
The most concerning thing to me wasn’t what had happened to Nick – it was how Laura was reacting. She kept saying, over and over again, that she believed she’d die without him. She said she truly felt like she was going to stop breathing. I almost believed it.
I stayed over at her place that night. I was secretly happy Nick was out of the picture.
“she kept saying, over and over again, that she believed she’d die without him.”
“I have great news,” Laura said, her eyes sparkling like she’d just witnessed real-life magic. She slid into the booth across from me at Taco Tuesdays, lip gloss shining, hair done, looking gorgeous. She seemed to be wearing all new clothes. “Nick and I are back together!”
“What?”
“He showed up at my yoga class with flowers – he knows I go to yoga every Tuesday night – and asked if he could take me out again. I’m seeing him tonight.”
I was expecting some explanation of some major speech he’d given her – some huge apology about where he went. It had been two months since he ghosted her.
“Uh. What happened to him?” I asked.
She looked down at her drink, avoiding eye contact.
“I don’t know,” she muttered.
“You didn’t…ask?”
“Just drop it! He’s back. We’re good. Let’s order.” There it was again. The aggression – and the exact words I imagine he’d said to her when she did attempt to ask where he’d been for two months.
Then it hit me.
The hyperventilating and the feeling she might die without him…he wanted that. He designed that moment. He wanted to make her need him, then to show her just how badly she needed him by disappearing. It’s how he gained total control when he came back.
None of this felt right with me, but I didn’t know how to intervene. Should I intervene? She’s a big girl. An adult. I just wanted to get along with my closest friend in the world. She said she was happy, so I supported her.
But then the new behavior started to emerge.
One night, Laura and Nick were joining me to meet my boyfriend (now husband) for drinks.
“On our way!” she texted at 8:45. Then 9pm. Then 9:30. I texted her. No response. 10pm. 11pm…I called her. Nothing. So we left.
Laura called me the next day to apologize. “Nick and I got in a fight on the way over and went home to work things out,”
“You couldn’t have at least told me?” I asked.
“Sorry he just…he got really upset if I looked at my phone. He really wanted to work things out. He’s my partner now and that relationship has to be my priority. You understand, right?”
I wondered who had first spoken those words.
This happened two more times – they would just not show up for plans because of a fight that was so bad, it “couldn’t wait until the next day.”
Some weeks later, for my birthday, I’d invited a group of friends to a swanky restaurant for dinner. I’d made the reservation months in advance. This is the kind of place that won’t seat you unless your entire party is there. Six of us were. Nick and Laura were late.
The hostess took pity on me and found a smaller table for us. And when Nick and Laura (eyes were puffy from crying) did arrive, Nick acted as if nothing had happened.
“We’ll just grab that table over there, push it together with this one, and it will be good,” he said, motioning to a nearby occupied table. “These nice people can move. I’ll buy them drinks. You don’t mind, right?” He asked a very confused couple who was mid-meal. Then he slipped the hostess $40 and added, “I’m sure it’s no trouble.”
He smiled, he made jokes. He acted like everything was fine.
“he smiled, he made jokes. He acted like everything was fine. ”
Over the next few weeks, I started picking up bits and pieces about what they’d fight about.
Nick didn’t like that Laura spent time with her male friends without him there to “chaperone” – his words.
Laura had taken on a project at work that would be a straight path to a promotion, but Nick didn’t like that the project took away from their time together. Their relationship “should be the most important thing,” he said.
She spent too much time with friends in general, according to Nick. “It’s juvenile. You’re an adult now,” he’d told her. “This is when you transition to spending more time with your romantic partner.”
Looking back, I realize the only reason Laura shared this with me was because, at that time, she wasn’t entirely brainwashed by him. Not yet at least. She still maintained a part of who she was, genuinely, and that person still had the confidence to stand up to Nick. But that part of her eventually died, and though I could tell they still argued often, Laura stopped telling me about their fights.
“Maybe he’s right…” was one of the last things she said, quietly, avoiding eye contact again, when she did talk to me about their fights. I imagine the reason she stopped telling me about them entirely was because she decided that he was right, and so, in her mind, there was nothing to discuss.
Over the next few months, it slowly became apparent that we’d all – each of Laura’s close friends – had experiences with Nick that didn’t sit right with us. And suddenly, what was supposed to be a fun girls’ night out (unsurprisingly Laura was busy) became a vent session in which we finally all expressed how very worried we were about her. We realized that venting about it was healthy to an extent, but eventually it just became gossip. We decided to confront her. Not in a group, intervention style – but just individually, at our own pace.
I wrote Laura a letter.
It was loving, but I also tried to detail incidents with Nick that nobody could argue were acceptable. I put a lot of thought into this letter. I had the other friends read it. We all agreed: it was airtight. She’d have to see what we saw after reading this. I sent it off.
This was her response:
“Nick warned me you would all say this. I understand you might be envious that I’ve found a mature relationship and you haven’t. Nick said this would happen. I’m sorry you can’t be happy for me, but since you’re forcing me to choose you or Nick, I choose him – he never made me choose.”
I couldn’t believe it. Or maybe I could.
I finally realized Laura was gone. I wondered how many other women Nick had done this with. How many other groups of friends were out there, short one woman who he’d convinced was “better off without them – and with him.” There was no way this was the first.
“ i wondered how many other groups of friends were out there, short one woman who he’d convinced was “better off without them.” ”
Looking back, I see how naïve I was.
I thought I was saving her with that letter. Now I know that it was really a goodbye letter. I wasn’t explaining to Laura why she should leave Nick: I was explaining to her why I was leaving her. She had chosen him a long time ago.
I was so sad to think about my strong, smart friend choosing someone who belittled her, who controlled her, who made her life so small.
I always had felt protective of Laura because, even though by the time I met her, she seemed vivacious, confident, and like she’d come into her own, I also sensed she’d just gotten there. Like moments before I arrived. As if confidence was a new toy she was just getting used to. And the more I got to know her, the more I understood that, throughout her childhood and high school, boys gave her no attention. Well, they gave her negative attention. She’d been viscously bullied about her nose, her body, her flat chest.
Her mother was no help.
“Your friend Christina is so pretty! You should cut your hair like hers,” was one of many comments I heard her mother say to her when I went home with her during Spring Break. I imagined all the other annihilating comments little Laura must have heard growing up. And what that did to her self esteem.
I feel like we all think that people stay in toxic relationships because they think they can’t do any better. I remember once overhearing Laura crying on the phone to her mom after a particularly hideous fight with Nick. I thought her mom would tell her to leave him. I thought her mom would want to rush over and comfort her. You know what she said?
“He has a good career Laura. He’s the most handsome man you’ve gone out with. Try to make it work.”
I tried to combat all the messages Laura heard from her mom, but it’s hard to undo a lifetime of damage in a couple of months.
It’s not like I could ever say share any of this with her. I can only imagine how Nick would have twisted my words if I’d told Laura she had low self-esteem from her critical mother so now she’s chosen a belittling toxic man because she feels she’s not worth something better. I don’t think it would have turned out well.
I haven’t spoken to Laura in seven years.
Through the grapevine, I’ve heard bits and pieces, like that they have been on again, off again several times.
I just want her to be ok. To be happy. To be loved.
Laura, if you find your way out, I’m here.
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