I’d Had Enough Abuse I Wanted Something Better

My first long term queer relationship was meant to be the one that stood the test of time. We were young, handsome, lived on Gay street (really), and had a great social life. We even had gay neighbors! But everything was not as gay as it seemed. At one point, I’d had enough abuse and I wanted something better.

The Scene

I was living in Portland, OR. Had just moved out from living with my cousin and in with a great roommate on the south east side. I like to call it the lesbian beehive. There were a lot of lesbians on the south east side at the time.

I was also going out to the gay bars at the time. There wasn’t a lot of options to meet other gay men at the time. It was also the safe space. It was our space. The gay bar was where you could just be you. “I Am What I Am” and “Dancing Queen” played regularly.

The Beginning

Scandals is a tavern that used to be on Vaseline Alley. A street lined with gay bars. (Things have now changed) This was my kind of bar. The people there are authentic. And that’s where I met Lelio.

Lelio was tall, handsome, smart, funny. He had a job. Husband material. He also hung out with a group of people that I always thought I’d like to get to know better. So I started pursuing him. I’m sure having a 20-something chasing an almost 30-something made for a lot of banter.

The Middle

We started dating. I was definitely mature for my age, but not meeting his expectations. He was asking me to grow up pretty quickly. I was still in school so I was in this strange place of who I was meant to be and who I was trying to be. So it probably wasn’t the best time for a relationship.

Still, we hit it off. We got along. We had similar interests. And we were able to support each other. There was unconscious effort put into making this relationship work. Eventually we decided that it was time to move in together.

Next thing you know, Lelio moved out of the duplex he owned and rented. After briefly house hunting, we found the perfect house on Gay street. It had a finished basement, two bedrooms, a breakfast nook, and a backyard with Marion berries, a cherry tree, and an apple tree.

Living on Gay

We had different expectations of household responsibility. So we learned rapidly what it mean to live together responsibly. Household bills, mortgage, general upkeep were all new to me. I hadn’t found a daddy, I’d found a partner and I needed to step up. And to be honest, I also didn’t know that I’d assumed I’d be taken care of until this moment.

I was 20-something and I was making choices I wasn’t ready for. But I thought I was. I thought I wanted a house. Lelio was definitely ready. He wanted a house. He was ready to start a relationship that was meant to last. And I thought I wanted that too.

On the outside our house was beautiful. Our relationship was clearly a DINK relationship. (What’s that you say? Double Income, No Kids) We were a young attractive gay couple who had it all. Including a great social circle.

The Beginning Of The End

What people didn’t see was the emotional abuse. They didn’t see the mental abuse. And it was even hard to catch the verbal abuse. At the time I didn’t have any experience to recognize that’s what was happening. He didn’t have the tools to recognize that’s what he was doing. And did gays ever experience domestic violence?

Next thing you know the kernel of unhappiness was there. It started to grow and fester. We started spending less time together. But we’d still go out to “church” at Scandals every Sunday. We’d put our faces on in front of the boys and have a good time. Everything appeared wonderful.

Then both of us stepped up our drinking. I’ve never been a big drinker. But he could really toss ‘em back. I tried to quit smoking and wasn’t very successful. And he started spending more time at work or the bar and I was spending more time at school.

The End

As the drinking progressed so did the verbal and emotional abuse. Then one day it escalated into physical abuse. It was near Christmas time and I was wrapping presents in front of the couch in the basement. We were watching TV. He was behind me on the couch, just home from the bar, and had had enough with a cocktail in hand.

He said something, I replied with a snarky comment, and he hit me from behind. Hard enough that I fell over. This was the first moment that I was scared for my life. While I didn’t think I was going to die, I didn’t know what was next.

I was in shock. I didn’t think it was possible for another human being to harm another. Intellectually I knew. But when it came to reality – this was flight or fight mode. And what happened to, “I love you?”

The Reset

Luckily I had some very good friends who had seen the change in our relationship. They had offered me a place to stay if I ever needed it, all I needed to do was call. So I did.

They helped me prepare to leave. One day I went to work, as did Lelio, and I came right back home. I put my immediate needs in a truck and left. Lelio came home to find that I had left. Eventually he found out where I was and that I was safe.

I saw him once after that. I went to his house (formally ours) and had a list with me of all the reasons why we were not going to be together. Including the trajectory of abuse that we were on. Which he denied. And after saying what I needed to say, I left. And didn’t look back.

The Unexpected

Several years after being in Chicago my life had changed for the better. And then one day I got the word that Lelio had died. Alone. In the house that we lived in together. The details were horrible.

He had never changed his trajectory. His abuse was turned on himself. The spiral of self destruction became, I believe, uncontrollable.

That was a hard day. I loved this man. And to know that he systematically destroyed his life was awful. And for a long time it felt like it was my fault. For a long time I blamed myself for his alcoholism and his death.

If I’d said something sooner maybe he would have gotten help and none of this would have ever happened. But that’s victim mentality. This was all him. It was all his choice. And none of it is fair. None of it is the way I wanted things to turn out.

You don’t always hear that you can love your abuser. And when there is a communal love for the person that you’re with who’s different when they’re with you, it’s really hard. I needed to remove myself. And that’s part of why I came to Chicago.

I Wish I Had Tarot

I didn’t have a tarot reader that I trusted at the time. You know, wish I had. It would have afforded me the time and the space to work through what I was feeling and experiencing. I could have had objective insights into what personal choices I could make.

I’m lucky I had some great friends. But Tarot could have taken it deeper. A reader and I could have explored by greatest strengths and my greatest weaknesses. That would have allowed me to move beyond them. Or I could have made choices to double down on them.

A tarot reader could have also helped me to better understand the relationship. In real time. From someone who was separate from the experience. Especially if the “get out now” message had come up. Or even the specificity of abuse. So I would have known that this wasn’t it. It wasn’t the one.

Being in a state of personal strength, momentum, and activation would have been ideal!

So What

I share this story of survival with you because I hope you can learn from my experience. And I want you to know that I’ve been through some shit too. Abuse in the queer community is real. If you think no one else sees you, I do.

If something doesn’t feel right, get a tarot reading. Dig in. If everything feels awesome, get a tarot reading. Find your personal insights. Find out more. Let the bad shit go and keep the good stuff.