How To Pick The Perfect Toxic Boyfriend For You

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I wanted to make the title gender neutral, but it wasn’t as catchy. I guess complaining about men just has a certain ring to it that’s hard to replicate.

That’s actually not my intention here at all, though. Everyone can be toxic; I’m just writing from my perspective because it’s easier for me. And this post is not about how horrible your boyfriend is. He may very well be pretty bad, but that’s an essay (or book) for you to write. My point is this: Someone else’s toxic behavior is not your fault, but emotionally healthy people don’t accept chronic mistreatment in a romantic relationship.

Are you emotionally healthy? Probably not. Do you want to fix that? Eh, maybe in theory. But on an unconscious level, that’s probably your worst nightmare! This fascinating video first opened my eyes to the idea that we purposely seek out toxic relationships so that we can blame something external for the pain we feel inside of us. The pain was always there, but now we don’t have to take responsibility for it. I don’t know about you, but that seems like the perfect arrangement to never face any of my own issues again.

On the other hand, going through one of the relationships detailed below is a great way to make literally everything else less frightening in comparison. Therapy, loneliness, and acknowledging your mother may have been right about you are usually terrifying prospects. But like most unpleasant things, they’re still much better than dating a psycho.

So, whether you want to remain in denial or seek out pain for the purposes of growth, keep reading. I will help you find the man who perfectly complements your own issues.

The Sadist (And Not In A Good Way)

This man has a diminished capacity for empathy. He would never describe himself as cruel, but when someone lets their feelings take precedence over everything else, cruelty is often the result. He probably prides himself on being brutally honest and having high standards. You will never live up to them. Eventually you will realize that he doesn’t live up to them either. He thinks it’s sweet when you give up things that make you happy because this means you really love him. His love language is blood and tears. But only yours.

He’s perfect for you if you have a victim complex. His behavior will fuel hours of complaints like, “Why do bad things happen to good people?” and, “I’m so nice to him but he doesn’t appreciate me!” Eventually you and your friends will conclude that you just care too much. You’re just too nice. No one will suggest that this is actually a deep-seated issue and that you fear you have nothing to offer in a healthy relationship where both people are nice, or, God forbid, the other person is actually nicer than you. Cue Identity Crisis.

In general, deciding your problem is that you care too much is not adequate self-reflection. It’s like saying you’re a perfectionist when they ask you about your weaknesses in a job interview. It’s more likely your problem is that you really need to believe you care too much.

The Overgrown Baby

This delight needs far more attention than the average adult. He doesn’t just expect you to be his mother, but maybe his father too. You’ll shop for him, make sure he eats properly, and smother him to the point where any normal person would run. He is the college boyfriend who always gets you to do his homework. Some babies even expect you to take care of them financially. If that’s the case, congratulations. You have found a grade-A baby.

He’s perfect for you if you have a void in your life and would rather fill it with a person than meaningful goals. He’s basically a part or full-time job, so you will never feel aimless again. He’s also great if you completely lack self-esteem and believe all you have to offer others is favors. This man needs you, which is perfect because you don’t trust someone to simply want you. Your love language is acts of service. But only your own.

Some of the same points above apply here as well. You don’t care too much, you just care too little about yourself.

The Unavailable Man

He may not be someone you actually date. You might just stalk him a lot from a distance and feel like that constitutes a kind of relationship. He could also be the commitment-phobe you never tie down or have a significant other that he cheats on with you. Bonus points if he’s married. It’s difficult to describe this man in detail because his defining trait is that you don’t really know what he’s like in a committed relationship. He’s unwilling to give that to you. He might happily give that to someone else. Just not you.

He’s perfect if you have a deep-seated fear of vulnerability. By never being available, he allows you to convince yourself that if he were, you would have no commitment issues of your own. You’re just waiting for the love of your life to come around, and then everything will be perfect. In reality, if you genuinely wanted a relationship, you wouldn’t waste your energy on someone out of reach. But you don’t. You want a fantasy because it’s safer. Your love language is lying to yourself.

The Loser

This man may not really be a bad guy, but in the eyes of whatever society you’re in, he’s not a success. He disappoints your parents, gets sucked into pyramid schemes, and makes unfortunate hairstyle choices. His mother thinks he has a lot of potential and hopes you will be the girl who inspires him to live up to it.

He’s perfect if you’re desperate. You just want a man, any man, even one with questionable personal hygiene. Anything is better than being alone. If this is your case, I suggest you go for someone unfairly considered a loser. Give chances to the ugly, the mentally impaired, or the homeless. But even if there is nothing really wrong with the man, he is defined by the fact that deep down, you feel like he is beneath you. And you prefer it that way because he is less likely to leave you.

In an ironic twist of events, dating you may raise his self-esteem and inspire him to upgrade. Your love language is fruitless attempts to control.

This is not an exhaustive guide to toxic men. That is impossible because new ones are being born every minute. If you don’t find your issues here, please feel free to explain them in the comments. I hope you feel after reading this that there really is someone for everyone. Happy hunting.

I Was There Too

silhouette of woman standing beside body of water
Brannon Naito on Unsplash

There are a few incidents in my life that confuse me because I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about them. I know that “supposed to feel” isn’t the best phrasing, and I should ask how I actually feel, but I don’t know the answer to that either. It’s just a blank space. This is why I say knowing the “correct” emotional response matters, because sometimes, we won’t allow ourselves to respond unless our reaction is supported by the script of what’s “proper” and “appropriate.”

Many times, I didn’t know how I should respond emotionally. And so I decided it was best not to at all. 3/10 would not recommend this approach to a friend.

One event keeps resurfacing in my mind. I had tried to put my feelings aside. I couldn’t, and I responded to the whole situation by crying. I didn’t say or do anything except cry. Much later, when I revisited the memory, I asked myself how the person in front of me could see so much evidence that I was upset and not react.

It’s a normal question, a healthy question, and it should be asked. But then I realized something else. It wasn’t one person alone in a room. I was there too. Two people saw me crying, and I was the one who cared the least.

I knew better than anyone the pain I was feeling, and I did not think it deserved any recognition. I did not speak about it, I did not act on it, I did not want to have any type of conversation about it. I later denied my tears came from anything except stress.

When I think of the whole situation now, I don’t have any feelings. It’s like I wasn’t there—but I was there. I didn’t want to be. But I was. So I separated from it mentally to such an extent that I don’t know where the part of me who was present and felt everything is. I don’t know where feelings go when we tell them to die. I just know that they don’t die.

Why do we believe we can devalue ourselves and someone will witness it and refuse to let it happen? We have picked the people who are present in our lives. If I do not love myself, I have not picked people based on whether they treat me with love. What we really want is to be agreed with. This is our comfort zone: people who see us as we see ourselves. This is what we surround ourselves with.

I do not become more compassionate when I refuse to be compassionate towards the person I see most often. And I would not call myself compassionate towards others if I saw their pain and “felt bad” for them but didn’t take any measures to help. When you practice detaching from yourself, you practice detaching from everyone. You are a person as well. How you treat yourself is included in the definition of how you treat people, and it is more than a technicality. What we think of as two separate attitudes are connected; they are a reflection of each other.

One of my favorite quotes is from Maya Angelou: “I don’t trust people who don’t love themselves and tell me, ‘I love you.’ There is an African saying, which is: Be careful when a naked person offers you a shirt.”

Culturally, we glorify self-sacrifice. But this type of “love” is like stealing from the poor to give to the rich. The poor are so used to being poor they’d rather stay that way than change (but they’ll tell you it’s really about you), and the rich don’t really want money, they just think it’s sweet that you’re suffering for them. And none of it is real money, it’s all chocolate coins and suddenly everyone is diabetic.

I don’t know if that makes any sense and I think I should stop now because I’m not ready to examine the metaphorical significance of my eating habits. All I’m saying is maybe, most of the time, we really do have what we want most. We just don’t have what we say we want.