He got me with his sense of humor. He’s ten over ten. Anytime I sat with him, I could laugh until my sides ached from pain. He was a natural. He didn’t struggle to make any situation funny. I told him he’d lost his calling. He should have been a comedian.

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When we started dating, I noticed a trend. In the name of being funny, he would make fun of strangers who were deficient in some way or had a noticeable body part. His colleague at the office is a stammerer. He would talk about him and mimic him in a way I thought was offensive.

I called his attention to it: “We can laugh about anything, but not at people and what they’re struggling with in life,” I told him. He retorted, “It’s not that deep. You need to be flexible in life. It’s not always about being serious.”

I understood him, but I still maintained it wasn’t the right thing to do. Then he turned it on me. He would laugh at every little thing about me. When my makeup didn’t match what he thought was pretty, he made a joke about it. My shoes got their share. My wig, the way I said something—everything was a source of fun for him.

I told him, “I’m not vibing with this side of you. Must you roast me on everything you see as wrong?”

He answered, “Tell me you don’t want me to play with you again, and I’ll understand.”

To him, it’s either fun or nothing. He makes me self-conscious about every little thing, and it’s not helping my confidence. I can have a bad day just because of what he said about my lipstick and the accompanying laughter. I’m flexible, but he wants me to double-check everything.

I Was Fine Until I Was Alone In My Room

How can something I loved so much about him become the thing that’s breaking our relationship? Now, I don’t even want to see him because it’s become a chore to present a flawless version of myself, one he won’t have anything to criticize. I’ve given myself some time. If I don’t see any change, I’ll leave. Or you think I’m delaying, considering how often we’ve talked about it with no improvement?

—Eunice 

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