Storytime: What Abuse Can Look Like - Part 1

 This is the story of when my narcissist ex boyfriend gaslit me into imagining an entire human. 

It was 10th September, 2020. My Bestie and I were in the park. Park Jeanne Mance, to be precise. We’d taken off our shoes and were letting our feet cool off. Bestie likes to take nice pictures and videos for instagram. He doesn’t know yet that in a year, he’ll be in film school. He took a picture of our bare feet against the backdrop of the trees. An empty coffee cup, a pair and a half of sneakers, and his bike helmet have also made it into the photo. He put it up on Instagram as a story. It expired in 24 hours.

The next day, I was at my boyfriend’s house. We were having a great time. We were halfway through our second bottle of red wine, occasionally sticking our heads out the window to smoke, laughing, talking for hours about everything as we usually do. I was very much in love. 

I mention the previous day and he asks, “Who else was there with you in the park?”

“No one,” I tell him, 

“Yes, there was,” he said.

The room was suddenly very quiet, and I felt the temperature drop.

“I saw in the photo,” he said.

“You couldn’t have. It was just me and Bestie,”

“I swear there was another person. I feel like you’re hiding something from me,”

“No man,” I insist, “There really wasn’t. Look, we look through those stories so fast, maybe you saw an extra pair of feet or something. Because there was no one else there.”

“I don’t know,” he said, “I feel like I’m being gaslit.” 

“I swear, I’m -,” anything I say at this moment would have looked like defense. After all, am I misremembering? Did someone join us at any point? A friendly stranger say Hello to us at a park? One of Bestie's friends? How, how, how? Ex-bf seems so determined. And he’s always right. He’s a scientist, you know. Those guys have their facts figured out. 

“Listen,” I suggest, “Why don’t I ask Bestie to send me that photo? Then we can look at it together. Because, I really can’t remember anyone there, I’m pretty sure it might have just looked like three pairs of feet or something. Like, maybe the shoes on the side created an illusion. But either way, it would resolve the issue,”

“No, no no, don’t do that,” he told me, “There’s no need to do that. It would cause unnecessary drama.”

“Nah, it’s all good. Bestie won’t mind,”

“No no, don’t text him, you’d be bothering him for no reason.” 

“It’s really no bother! We send each other pictures all the time. Besides, if he’s busy, he won’t even see the message. It’s not a big deal.”

“No. Don’t ask him. There’s no need.” He was adamant. 

“Okay…” 

The vibe of the room instantly changed back to the jolly, romantic setting. What the fuck just happened? I needed the resolution, but I also didn’t want to ruin the good mood. It was very fragile. I forced myself to get over it. 

Ex went to the washroom. I took that opportunity to quickly call Bestie. 

“Yo,” I whispered, “I don’t have long. Did someone join us at the park yesterday?”

“Haha, what? No,” he said, “Why are you asking?”

“Like, did someone come say Hi, one of your fuckbuddies maybe? Or was it just us the whole time?”

“No, Bitch. It was just us, what’s wrong with you? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I said, “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine. Hey, can you send me that picture from your story yesterday? The one with our feet?”

“Sure.”

Ex returned from the bathroom and I presented the picture. “See? No third person.” 

He seemed a bit pissed, “You asked him to send that to you, didn’t you?”

I shrugged. He rolled his eyes. We moved on with our night and never talked about it again.