[Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4.]
What Happened: Wherein I finally share what killed the friendship, then lie down and make snow angels in my empathy, anxiety and (probably unjustified) guilt.
cw: intimate partner abuse.
The last time I saw Glenn or Alexandra was October of 2019, when I traveled to their city to spend a weekend with Alexandra in a moderately-priced hotel room. Soon after, COVID intervened, our relationship stalled, and in spring of 2021, about a month after suggesting I come see her once we were both vaccinated, she changed her mind and said she didn’t want to do weekend getaways anymore.
I had been expecting this; soon after our time together in late 2019 the emotional and sexual intimacy in our relationship began to wane, and while we remained friendly, it was evident that things were changing. It didn’t feel like we were simply in a holding pattern waiting for the pandemic to blow over; the pull-back that occurred over the course of eighteen months wasn’t something I’d ever experienced during all the time I’d known her.
Jill suggested the possibility that Glenn had forcd her to break it off with me. To this day, I don’t know whether that’s true; I have no evidence, circumstantial or otherwise, to suggest either way, and it doesnn’t matter. Whatever the reason, after five years we segued into a different phase of our relationship. We remained close friends and confidants, but just that and nothing more. We continued to talk (via online messaging) every single day until November 2021 – more than five and a half years since our relationship began – and after that, while the conversation continued, it wasn’t necessarily on a daily basis.
The first time we skipped a day, I wondered if Alexandra had outlived her need for my friendship. After all, once our relationship went platonic we continued to talk daily for months. But she still needed my friendship and whatever comfort it provided her, and I wouldn’t know why or how seriously for almost another year.
In summer 2022, I went an entire month without hearing from her. By this point the Twitter account she shared with Glenn was long deactivated, and she was inactive on other social media. I’m not one to pester somebody with repeated messages; if I send a message and I receive no response, I tend to assume the other person doesn’t want to write back and I leave it at that. All I could do was hope she was okay.
In August, Alexandra replied to the message I’d sent her, and she had a lot of news. She and Glenn had separated and would be getting a divorce. This was a shock, though not much of one, as prior to her monthlong disappearance, she mentioned that things had been difficult between them, but they were trying to work it out. They’d always had a volatile relationship and to hear her tell it, in its early days her relationship with Glenn was abusive in both directions. But now, with their relationship in the past she told me that it was all him.
I understand the instinct to lie for the benefit of a toxic partner one does not intend to leave or cannot leave. With the understanding that leaving an abusive relationship can be difficult and even dangerous, remaining in one makes a person look weak or foolish, or more accurately makes the abused party worry about being perceived as such. On the other hand, if the abuse is equal on both sides it becomes more understandable that they would stay. The abused party goes from being a victim to being a complicated person who’s presumably managed to overcome their demons.
Obviously the revelation was huge and tumultuous. As I adjusted to the news I had to determine how I could best be of support to her. The first thing I intended to do was cut off all contact with Glenn, as remaining friendly with your friend’s abuser means you’re not actually a friend of your friend. However, I was somewhat pleased to find that he disconnected from me on social media before I could.
One day soon after Alexandra’s return, I was out shopping when she sent me a very long message. I’m talking about a message of the kind of length most people would send as an email. This wasn’t unusual; sometimes when Alexandra had something deeply personal to get off of her chest she would test out a rough draft of a social media post by sending it to me to get my thoughts before sharing it publicly with a limited audience. In the message, she described in great detail the abuse she had suffered over the course of her relationship with Glenn. While I am not aware of any physical abuse, what she endured ran the gamut from emotional and mental abuse including gaslighting to sexual abuse often in the form of coercion and manipulation. She described him saying that it didn’t matter if she wasn’t in the mood for sex and that as her spouse, he was owed it.
I read her message with interest, but also with great apprehension. Of course I didn’t want to imagine my friend and former partner going through what she went through. I didn’t want to feel the fear, the pain, and the sorrow she undoubtedly felt. And as I read, I felt my heart racing. Anxiety gave way to panic, and I found myself struggling to breathe. I fought back nausea as I leaned against a shelf and tried desperately to ground myself before I passed out, or worse.
Yes, I was angry for all that she had suffered, but that wasn’t the main cause of my panic attack. I thought back to Glenn playing matchmaker between his wife and I almost a decade earlier. I thought of his maneuvering to get the two of us together. Had I unknowingly been a perpetrator of the sexual abuse she had suffered? He loved to watch; did he make her have sex with me for his pleasure? What had Glenn made me a party to?
In the moment, Alexandra always seemed into it, and we’d spent all those weekends in hotels, just the two of us, with Glenn nowhere to be found. It didn’t seem like she was there for any other reason than because she wanted to be. Had he forced her to go along with it, to put on a happy face and pretend that she was choosing to hole up with me for a couple days, performing for me sexually against her will just as she had for him? What would that make me, exactly? Without intending to, or even realizing it, I would still be a sexual abuser. Without any malice on my part, I would still have had sex with someone who didn’t want it. How could I possibly live with what I’d done?
When I asked her point-blank whether that was the case, she quickly indemnified me. She assured me that she wouldn’t have entered into and maintained our relationship if it wasn’t what she wanted. Although I could see clearly that the man I considered a friend was in actuality the worst sort of villain, Glenn hadn’t put her up to it, and Alexandra and I never had sex at a time when she didn’t want to. Her assurance provided me a measure of relief, though I was still furious over what she’d gone through. I remain furious, in fact.
To be concluded.