Robbie’s Story: Crazy Love-Don’t Date Brain-Damaged Guys
Crazy Love-Don’t Date Brain-Damaged Guys
I feel foolish even telling this story. I met an attractive, smart, 47-year-old plane-cash-survivor
(former glider pilot) 2 years ago at the most popular singles group
on meetup. I knew he was a little strange, but I didn’t realize just
In the beginning, I saw that he had little impulse control. (He was
severely brain damaged from the accident, in the frontal lobe portion
of the brain–which controls social behavior.) He would say strange,
inappropriate things and even frighten strangers. Then I realized
that he enjoyed it. Once, he held my hand as he asked the clerk at a
pharmacy if she liked to eat “balls”, then mentioned something about
blindfolding and kidnapping her. Her eyes were wide with fear.
I told him that this wasn’t OK, and he didn’t believe me! I asked him
to speak with his therapist.
Then he started to get mean. He called me horrible names. He made fun
of my intellect, my body and more.
The sex was frequent, he had a high libido (though he was
narcissistic and selfish), and I felt lonely, so I kept hoping he’d
get better with help. Then I went to his therapist with him and she
told me he was a “healthy sadist”, and a “pussycat until provoked”.
What does that mean? I found out soon.
A few weeks later, I went to his apartment to pick up my things and
told him I was leaving him. Then he pulled a knife out of the drawer
and held it against my abdomen, and, as I left, called the police
saying I was “harassing” him. As I left his apartment and walked
towards the subway, 7 police cars from the precinct in Forest Hills
approached me. I was held for more than an hour, because he refused
to open his door (they had to see that he was OK). He was calling his
ex-wife, a criminal attorney. Then I was released.
I sought and obtained a restraining order, made a police report, and
kept him away from me for eight months.
After everything that had happened, I was foolish enough to speak to
him when the order expired. (What an idiot I was). He was still
charming and child like. I still had the stupid notion that he might
be able to control his bizarre impulses.
We dated on again and off again, two weeks at a time. Then he started
to insult me once more. Finally, I got tired of playing “nurse” and
allowing his disability to be an excuse for his cruel behavior. So
after a few more rounds of his calling me horrible names, debasing me
as a woman, telling me my breasts were uneven”, calling me
“stupid” and “dirty”, I had finally lowered myself to his
level and told him that he was brain-damaged and that no one would
ever stay with him for very long. I’d like to say it bothered me to
be mean to him in return, but it didn’t. I felt vindicated.