How Do You Get To a Truly Good Relationship?

The crazy chick who almost sent me to jail. The nurturing older woman. The full-blown narcissist who now gives me shivers — those are just a few examples of my peculiar relationship history.

And after all that, I dare to say trial and error isn’t exactly the smoothest way to relationship heaven. But, despite everything, it actually got me there. And for your amusement, it has also given me plenty to reflect on. Maybe you can even learn something.

Where am I now to have the audacity to talk as if I finally know something, you might ask?

At last, in a good place of mutual warmth, honesty and commitment. After two years of engagement, I’m about to get married next summer.

We are a team. An army of two that tackles life’s difficulties as one and uses them to solidify their bond. We can feel weak, knowing that if one does, the other is strong. We empower each other. We enrich each other’s lives. And we give each other massive amounts of joy. We don’t always agree with one another. But we know how to fight constructively and we always respect each other’s boundaries. Fighting actually isn’t a thing. We rather talk things straight politely.

And did I already tell you about the passion?

OK, I better stop this ode right here. You probably get the point anyway — it’s something that just works. Something that, according to what I’ve seen in the 35-year-old marriage of my parents, has the potential to last until there’s life. That being said, my grandparents managed to hit 50 before they died one shortly after the other. So, long-lasting romantic aspirations seem to run in the family.

But, as mentioned, I had to go through a series of relationship conundrums before I got here. Let’s have a quick look at some of them. They serve as great examples of what and who people should avoid.

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The ones who just don’t seem interested

At 17, I met a somewhat younger girl at a friend’s birthday party. She was attractive. I had recently discovered my manhood and confidence. Thus, I laid my eyes on her and was convinced she’d stumble because of my charm.

In reality, though, her attitude towards me turned out to be lukewarm, at best.

Of course, I didn’t allow myself to be shaken by that. Instead, I poured my soul (and schoolboy’s savings) into this one-sided infatuation. Soon enough, she kind of gave in. Meaning, I did end up in a relationship with her — which was exactly what I had desired from the start. But only to discover six months later that she’d been cheating on me with someone who I believed to be a friend.

I was heartbroken.

The conclusion I made at that time was that I needed someone older. Someone more mature who would know the value of a good relationship. Although not an entirely false presumption per se, it had actually been about reciprocity. Or, in that case, lack thereof.

It was many relationships later that I finally realized the true lesson of this — if the amount of commitment and effort isn’t reciprocated, one should always turn around and walk.

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Crazy people who use “living to the fullest” as an excuse to act unpredictably and dangerously

Then, after a couple of minor flings, came university. I was a few years older, moved to another city and still kept the idea of an older partner in mind.

And behold — there she came! A single mother, some five years my senior. Partly, I was attracted to her because I assumed her age correlated with maturity.

She also posed as a loving mother. Which, of course, clicked with me too. Mostly because of — you know — mommy issues. I didn’t exactly have what you’d call a healthy relationship with my mother. And, I guess, to my subconscious, witnessing her motherly love looked like a fitting substitute for what I’d been missing myself.

In addition, she claimed to be a very positive, active and adventurous person. Plus, there was sex. Lots of it. What else does a first-year university student need?

In reality, she had some serious trouble with herself. Balance was an unknown word in her vocabulary. Her internal struggles constantly resulted in the most irrational, unexpected or dangerous conduct. Examples of which included wanting to drive under the influence and without a license, and throwing tantrums when I didn’t allow her to. Overdosing on pills just to make a statement. Inviting random strangers to my home. Trying to run through a window in the midst of an argument. Saying she’d go to the railroad tracks and not come back (as if that left much room for interpretation). Or throwing things at me. I once dodged a lamp, for example…

Everything in her was hyper. Her joy was ecstatic, if not manic. Her lows, on the other hand, were dreadfully grim. And there was no emotional skin whatsoever. Meaning, she would often explode because of things most people don’t even lift an eyebrow to. Life was constant drama.

What she referred to as heightened sexuality, can in retrospect only be called promiscuity. To illustrate matters, she gave me an STD…

But she herself said she was just a lively and emotional person who lived passionately. And that I was dull and tried to suffocate her flame.

Oddly, she managed to keep me confused and made me believe that everything that was off, was because of me.

It somehow lasted for four years. After being diagnosed with trauma-induced depression and almost going to jail because of some major intrigues she’d gotten me into, I finally had an awakening and got out. Or, actually, it sort of fell apart by itself. Thankfully.

Main point — if it looks, walks and quacks like duck on drugs, it’s a crazy motherf#cking duck. Not a daffodil. Despite its claims.

Leave it in the wild and go home!

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Single parents who are on meds and live double lives

At the age of 24, I got a friend with benefits. As smarter people know, those situations have a tendency to escalate into full-blown feelings. The shared intimacy. The time together outside the bedroom. Theaters, cafes, cinema — they take care of that.

She was somewhat older too. And also a single mother. Not that there is anything wrong with being a single parent. All sorts of things may happen in life. And developing the strength to get out of a toxic relationship, especially if one has kids, is rather admirable. And probably best for the child.

There’s also nothing wrong with taking anti depressants to get over this rough patch, if needed.

But…I think it’s justified to be somewhat critical if the person involved likes to play toxic games herself. Especially, if those games involve many people, their feelings and decisions.

This particular lady told me she had separated from her manipulative, freakishly controlling husband. And that everything she suffered from was an aftermath of that.

Fair enough. It made sense.

Things got a bit questionable, however, when the ex-husband was spotted lurking outside my windows at night by some friends of mine.

It turned out they still spent time together. No only that. They slept and did all sorts of couple stuff. They even attended the family reunion as a couple. All of which left the poor fellow under the impression that I was intruding into their perfectly functional relationship.

I guess when he was creeping around, he was actually planning revenge in some twisted fantasy of his. At least the threats I received soon after indicated a possibility.

It also turned out that in addition to me and the ex, she was seeing at least two other men at the time — one of whom was her boss.

That’s four men! Plus, there were rumors of a fifth.

People vary greatly in their capabilities and stress tolerance. But I am sure that juggling intimate relationships with four or more men, and trying to cope with all the stress and lies involved, eventually breaks anyone. And I assume that is what actually got to this lady too.

And, for some reason, I also have the feeling it wasn’t only the husband who played a role in their divorce…

When I ended this relationship, I received 36 text messages in the course of 20 minutes. They ranged from denying to desperate and from loving to downright threatening.

Well… Another lesson learned — playing games will backfire.

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Hot women who are almost twice your age and carry triple the baggage

Another curious case was one of the girlfriends of the previous heroine.

I was 25. She was a whopping nineteen years older and we were good friends. Our interactions had always been platonic, despite her physical attractiveness.

That is, until they weren’t.

My previous experiences had grown me suspicious and bitter towards women in general. I thought most women were either lying, manipulative, dangerous or lacked the intellectual capacity to fulfill my emotional needs.

She, on the other hand, proved warm, friendly and caring. There was an understanding between the two of us we both deemed rare and valued accordingly. Add a certain ripe physical attractiveness to the blend, mix it with the receptiveness of hurt man, and you are all set for a trip down another rabbit hole.

This rabbit hole of a relationship included multiple simultaneous admirers, a convict ex-husband, two traumatized kids (one of whom was old enough to be my sister), questionable morals, hedonism, excessive reliance on men and lack of self-motivation. Or laziness, however one might call it. Plus, because of the age gap, it had a “best before“ stamped on it already from the very beginning.

Soon I was stuck. There were no major quarrels and we made many pleasant memories. And in a way, her nurturing nature healed me from my previous trauma. But at the same time, I got caught in the complexities of her own previous life.

The convict knew no boundaries. He was overly friendly and kept marching into our life during the most inappropriate moments. I mean, it’s all well and good if people get along with their exes. But that doesn’t necessarily mean I want to regularly hang out with them. Nor do I want to greet them first thing in the morning while I’m still in my underwear.

Their teenage daughter had taken the divorce very badly, which resulted in temper tantrums, suicidal behavior and regular self-harm, all of which strongly toned our domestic atmosphere.

Her older daughter, who had blossomed from another previous relationship, was also a troubled soul. By nature, she exhibited the attitude and radical-mindedness of Germany in WWII. Much like Germany, she was eager to fight, conquer and spread her views — and a lot of the time, it involved the house I lived in.

Sorry for using Germany as a metaphor, but her Facebook cover photo was an actual picture of Hitler, so — I just couldn’t help myself.

The problem with the lady herself was multifaceted. In her marriage, she’d gotten comfortable spending the income of her husband and orchestrating his doings from a not-so-stimulating position of a domestic housewife.

Later, when she did get a job, it didn’t exactly result in a lot of ambition or drive. She truly enjoyed all the finer things in life. Think of staying in expensive hotels and driving a Benz. But not once did I see that she was actually willing to do what it takes to afford this kind of a life-style. Instead, she tried to rely entirely on her male partner to materialize her dreams. Or, if that didn’t work, she just waited for luck to fall on her lap.

The thing with close relationships is that partners affect each other a lot. Over time, everything — from positions to mental states and even income — tends to equalize.

I tried to motivate her to build her work-ethic, to take proper care of her health, to improve her morals and to recognize the patterns that had kept her from reaching the levels of success and happiness she desired.

No luck.

Instead, after four years, I realized I’d been living in a standstill myself. Worse — I had even regressed. I had started to drink more, to work out less and had gotten generally lazier.

I also realized you can’t change the course of another person’s life if they don’t want to do it themselves. And I finally understood that age does not guarantee anything.

In short, I got out.

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Narcissists

Getting out of this relationship coincided with some other major changes in my life. I had also come to a standstill in my career. Thus, I ended it and moved from Europe to Australia where I spent the next two years.

I was 28 when I arrived in Australia and I was actually in a pretty good place. Somewhat lonely, perhaps, but mentally strong, and eager to see what the new environment had to offer.

Of course, among other things, it also offered new female acquaintances. A Nepali singer, a Greek model and a Brazilian doctor of veterinary medicine, for instance. All of whom stayed mere temporary flings because of the cultural differences.

But then I also met another fellow Estonian — someone, who had been traveling the world for seven years. Someone, who had refused the safety and material security her prominent father offered — and chosen a life of exploration and independence instead.

“Someone with character, yet good and decent,” I thought.

I was intrigued.

After a wild night, a month of bliss followed. She showed me around Australia and we had tremendous fun. We seemed to match better than I’d ever dreamed — the likes, the life-goals, everything. I was stunned to find someone so like-minded.

However, soon things changed. Right after I had been reeled in, it started to look more and more like a facade.

Gaslighting, moodiness and sudden outbursts of anger. Then constantly switching between sweet and downright obnoxious. During the next eight months I felt increasingly confused, insecure and stressed.

I suspected lies, but I couldn’t prove them — she was so smooth at pretending, twisting my words and playing me.

Whenever I got upset, she switched to warm, innocent and lovable. Whenever I started to feel comfortable, she silently destroyed me again. Thus, I started to eventually question my own sanity.

Reality dawned when I she left me waiting one night we agreed to meet. After a couple hours of worrying and feeling like an idiot, I got a call from an acquaintance. He said she’d been spotted buying drugs — an eight ball of cocaine, to be exact. He was also standing next to her when I called repeatedly, and told me she ignored those calls without much remorse.

I guess the craving was bigger than the guilt.

“This explains so much of the previous erratic behavior,“ I realized.

Later that night, when I finally met her, she was high as a kite — from God knows what else she’d been consuming, and couldn’t really understand what all the fuzz was about.

Some days later, as she sobered up, she switched to absolutely apologetic. She realized she’d been caught red-handed and felt she was loosing me. Thus, she put on the nicest mask she had and lied her way back into my heart. And it worked — for a while.

Soon, she continued to secretly squash my brains until I was in a near constant haze of dissociation. Until I got us into a really bad car accident — a head-on collision that dislocated my shoulder and damaged her neck.

By that time, I had also done my research (thank God for Richard Grannon and the availability of psychology literature) and started to suspect I might be dealing with a full-blown narcissist.

I decided to confront her and provoked her with an ultimatum about honesty, respect and relationship standards I knew a narcissist would be unable to swallow.

With that, the relationship was over. And I decided to embark on a lonesome journey of self-exploration and growth.

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The moral and value of those stories?

The truth is, all of the people in those stories — like, it or not — they connected with me on very different deep levels.

It wasn’t that I was good, or that they were bad.

Instead, my issues — my unresolved problems, childhood wounds and ill thought patterns — drew those women into my life, and also pushed me towards them. Because:

Issues are like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle — they only go with those alike.

Meaning, I was equally responsible for all my suffering.

In order to get to a truly good relationship, I first had to grow and learn about:

– my value
– my inherited behavioral patterns
– my preferences
– what is right
– what is wrong
– what never to tolerate
– what standards I have to live up to

Only after that was I able start gravitating towards someone like my current partner — someone so good, honest, diligent, pure and…healthy.

17-year-old me had to realize the pointlessness of one-sided infatuations.

Never offer yourself to someone who doesn’t cherish your love, because of if you do, you will only get burned. And trying to convince somebody to love you — even if you’re really confident — doesn’t work either.

University-me needed to identify and avoid crazy people — plain and simple. But at the same time — as funny as it seems — he also needed to learn to like some of that craziness. Because until that, he’d been somewhat boring.

Passionate sex is good. Finding great joy in the little things in life, or dancing till dawn every now and then, is good too.

24-year-old me needed to learn a great deal about honesty.

It was then when I decided I’d never play any games with anyone.

25-year-old me needed to learn about the intellectual qualities a relationship should offer. But he also needed to learn about drive, dependence, independence and how the wrong kind of partner can keep you anchored right where you are. Plus, he needed to understand that age doesn’t matter — or, at least doesn’t guarantee anything.

Australian me got his final exam on relationship theory — it was a test about whether I had paid any attention at all. It involved everything — from basic relationship standards to respect, honesty and boundary setting.

Well, I guess I passed.

But it still wasn’t enough. I still had to continue working on myself to become worthy of the woman I envisioned. Because the woman I vaguely pictured, stood much-much higher than me.

It took a lot of loneliness, staring nakedly in the mirror and contemplating. A lot of persistence. A lot of growth.
But now I’m getting married to the best person I’ve ever met.

So what is the secret to a really good relationship?

Understand that everything you currently like or dislike in your love life, is either directly or indirectly brought upon you by yourself.

Your vices, insecurities and wounds click with those of people with similar or otherwise matching issues. You can’t expect to find someone healthy if you’re broken. Nor can you find someone faithful if you yourself are a whore. Or someone honest, if you even occasionally lie. And so forth.

Then grow, reflect and repeat — and persevere until you finally are where you want to be.

It might take a try or two.

But you don’t need to go through numerous relationships like I did. My fiancée had only one short-lived relationship before me. Yet, as a keen observer of life and herself, she managed to figure it all out by the time she met me.

You just need to realize it all starts from within yourself. Simple.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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