The one hundredth (!) question for the Q&A section of this blog is: “Who was the least attractive person you were ever attracted to?”
I hate to say it, but this is a bit of a hard one for me, because when a relationship ends for me, once I get closure I tend to be completely incapable of finding that person attractive ever again. Not just “I don’t want to date you again”, but rather that I don’t really see what I found attractive about them in the first place. That is not all-encompassing, of course; usually we can remain friends, and I can see a lot of redeeming qualities in them (and some have so many that I will still “gush” about all their positive traits), but it certainly affects how I view them physically, because for me, physical attraction is largely based on my mental/emotional connection to an individual.
That being said, there are a couple of people who popped to mind right away when I read this question, because the negative qualities that they had that broke us up are still quite apparent in them, to the point that I’m not sure how I ever “put up with” them, and of course, that makes them quite unattractive to me in the physical sense, as well. It is to the point, with a couple of them, that I just absolutely do not understand what I ever saw in them physically, because when I look closely at pictures of them now, I cannot find anything at all that I would be attracted to.
Now, I guess I should say that I have never dated anyone that I found unattractive before entering the relationship. My “tastes” are very broad, so I can find a large range of different types of people attractive, because again, it’s mostly based on personality for me anyway, so I found them all attractive when I was dating them. It’s just looking back on them now that makes me able to view them as unattractive.
But even though a couple of people came to mind when I read this question, there is only one person whose photos, if I see them, will consistently make me feel actively nauseous, and that’s the guy I very briefly dated before I met my current boyfriend. It’s kind of funny, because I’ve been in relationships where I have been raped, used and abused, yet I can still find those individuals more attractive than this guy. Why? Because he was a potentially very scary, and definitely very abusive jackass, who tried to manipulate me into believing he was otherwise (and that I was horrible), because he knew I would be vulnerable to that, given my history…and he let that show far too soon.
When we first met, he seemed like the perfect guy; absolutely “too good to be true”…and he was. The first time I saw him, I found him physically attractive, and that only grew the more he shared with me, and the more I developed feelings for him, but through it all, I couldn’t shake this nasty little feeling of anxiety that I had about him. It was like he was saying and doing all the right things, and I knew I should trust him, but I just couldn’t bring myself to actually do so. Something was not right, and my gut knew it, but he kept convincing me that it was just the abuse from my past clouding my mind and making me doubt both him and myself. He kept assuring me he would never do those things, and that he didn’t know how anyone could. But still, I just couldn’t get comfortable with him.
In total, we only dated for about a month, and in that time, cracks had already started to show in who he claimed to be. He would get frustrated with me for not being able to make decisions that I had absolutely no basis with which to make, while he did, and he would push me into situations I was not comfortable with, like meeting my friends (which was a huge red flag for me; I’m usually very excited for my significant other to meet my friends, but in this case, I didn’t want him to at all, and kept trying to find ways to stop it from happening, even though I wasn’t quite sure why I didn’t want it…at least I did manage to lie my way out of him meeting my family), and then talk shit about those things (and my friends) later on. He preached “no judgment”, yet he constantly judged me and the people in my life, considering all of us to be “lesser than” because we weren’t as “worldly” as he was.
He also tried to diminish me by repeatedly pointing out things he liked or was interested in (activities, favourite foods, etc.), and talking about how disappointed he was that he wouldn’t get to enjoy those things because “I couldn’t” (because of fears, allergies, foods I disliked, whatever), even though in most of those situations, I tried and tried to get through to him that I wanted to try them. It didn’t matter what I said, or how much I genuinely wanted to try something (or could point out reasons he was wrong in saying I wouldn’t enjoy it, or modifications that could easily be made so I would); if it was something he really liked that he could find any way I might not like, he would essentially ban me from trying it so that he could continue to remind me of how much I was holding him back from the things he loved. Every weekend he visited, we had to have pizza, because he refused to cook for me because I “wouldn’t like what he likes” (even though he claimed to be a phenomenal cook) so it was “for my own good”, and made me very uncomfortable with the idea of cooking for him, because everything I liked was apparently so “bland”.
There were other red flags, as well, but the biggest thing really was how uncomfortable I felt with him, and how I very quickly stopped wanting him to come visit. I didn’t feel right about any of it, and I didn’t see how we could have any sort of future, but he kept telling me how good he was going to be for me, and how I was letting my anxiety hold me back, so because I didn’t want to do that, I stayed.
Then, on Canada Day, we went on a road trip to Six Flags, and that’s where it all fell apart completely. I won’t get into all the gory details, but suffice it to say, I almost had to find another way to get home, and his true colours really showed during that trip. I only made it back to Canada because I managed to convince him I still wanted to be with him, and that I was going to comply with doing the things he wanted to do…but once we were back, I dropped the act and told him “no” when he tried to force me to have sex with him instead of meeting my friend, who had cooked me dinner and was waiting for me (after already telling him no to his suggestion that he invite himself along), and that was the end of that. He was so pissed that I said “no” to him, that I never saw him again after that, aside from when we exchanged a couple of things we’d borrowed from one another (at which point I met him in the parking lot and didn’t even speak to him, because I wanted him to leave as quickly as possible). And I’m not sure I’d ever been happier than I was when I realized it was actually finally over.
So, yeah. Too much, too soon, too scary, and I even got an infection (not an STI, to be clear :P) out of it in the end (which, of course, was all my fault according to him, even though the doctor said otherwise), and now, seeing pictures of him or thinking too much about what happened with him legitimately makes me feel like throwing up. I hate knowing he was in my life for even just as long as he was, and I think he’s the only person I’ve been with who I 100% wish I had never met. I know what I saw “in him”, but it wasn’t who he actually was, and who he actually is is by far the most unattractive person I’ve ever met. And that is all I’ll say about that.
Check out Mike’s answer at http://emptystress.wordpress.com, and please feel free to post your own in the comments!
(Next question: “What has been your most difficult breakup?”)