Kevin loved to garner sympathy and attention. He would do whatever he could to attract sympathy and attention, no matter how bad it made him look. And if he didn’t get sympathy and attention, he would throw a tantrum like a spoilt, little toddler.
He especially used his poor childhood to garner sympathy and attention. He talked about how his parents had divorced and that his parents were never there for him. I don’t know what really happened in his childhood, but I had told him so many times that we have to look forward. There’s no point hanging on to the past. So many people do not have the perfect childhood but they don’t brood over it. They make their lives better. But he did not listen to me. He did not want to listen to me. He did not want to stop brooding over his childhood. He enjoyed the sympathy and attention he was getting out of it. He was thriving.
When I had newly arrived at the school, there were a few evenings in which I would socialise with the teachers in the canteen and have a few drinks. I’m not a big drinker but I don’t mind having the occasional drink when I go out with friends. Kevin then raised the issue with me that he did not like himself or other people drinking as alcohol had a bad name in his family because his mother was apparently an alcoholic. He told me this after one of the evenings when I was socialising in the canteen early on in the relationship. He said this to make me feel guilty so that I would never drink again. He did not like seeing me having fun and I believe part of it was his intention to isolate me. The irony was that despite the pain he claimed alcohol brought him, he still drank alcohol on a weekly basis – sometimes with his meal and other times by itself. It was very hypocritical of him. He was always hypocritical and contradicting himself. Considering he was unable to feel emotion the way mentally healthy people do, what he said about his mother being an alcoholic would not have affected him in any way. She was just a prop he could use to guilt-trip me and to garner sympathy and attention. His mother is apparently deceased, but who knows how much of his life is actually true and how much was made up to create his false self as the poor victim. As the relationship progressed, he stopped bringing up his views on alcohol. Probably because he was satisfied that I was becoming isolated and distancing myself from people.
He also used his father, who was apparently in a retirement home in France with dementia, to garner sympathy and attention. I did sympathise with him, but after a while, I stopped responding to his attention seeking tactics. I told him that staying miserable was not going to make the situation any better. He then said that I did not understand the situation to which I replied that I perfectly understood the situation as myself had witnessed my grandfather suffer from dementia. However, Kevin did not take that in. He had selective hearing and only heard what he wanted to hear. No matter how many times I told him that I understood his situation as I had witnessed it first-hand myself, he would ignore it and tell me that I did not understand his situation. Then he said that he wanted me to visit his father so that I understood the situation. I told him to his face that he was only trying to garner sympathy to which he denied. But it was true. He did not care about his father. He was only using his father as a prop to garner sympathy and attention for himself. And that is why no matter how much I tried to be there for Kevin during his “tough” times, it was never enough because he enjoyed the situation too much to let it go. I was not going to make myself miserable because he was miserable. I have my life to live for and I was not going to sacrifice my happiness for him. I don’t even know if his father really was in a retirement home with dementia. Perhaps the whole scenario was a lie.
When I was in Spain, he would sometimes selfishly call me in the middle of the night crying like a baby saying how he was getting panic attacks, how he was so afraid and how he hated his life. One time, he called me at three o’clock in the morning crying like a baby because Decibelle urinated in the bathtub! Another time when I was there with him in Belgium, he had told me to come down into his room. To my surprise, I found him sitting naked in his empty bathtub surrounded by his abandoned toys laying on the floor, crying about how much he hated his life and how nothing in his life was going well. I did not feel sorry for him neither times. I pitied him. I looked down on what a pathetic, little man he was. I was thinking to myself that there was something seriously wrong with him. He was really sick.