have considered yourself a victim of abuse because none of your exes ever physically hurt you. But did they belittle or harass you constantly with put downs, sarcasm, and cruel asides? Did they attempt to control your life with an iron fist?
To cite a commonly used but apt analogy, it’s like receiving a million little paper cuts. None of these behaviors in isolation could be considered life-threatening, but they all hurt. Moreover, when they occur en masse (as through sustained verbal abuse) they’re more than an annoyance; they’re torture. If this sounds like a frivolous use of the word, consider its primary textbook definition:
“Torture (noun): 1. The act of inflicting excruciating pain, as punishment or revenge, as a means of getting a confession or information, or for sheer cruelty.” [xxv]
Think about the times you’ve stayed with a mean-spirited, extremely petty, or insanely jealous man. The reason you might’ve stayed with him too long is that he didn’t reveal himself immediately. This kind of “man” reveals himself by degrees. He may be fine in those first few months. Hell, he may even look like an angel. However, as soon as things start to go in any direction besides the one he chooses, his true self begins to emerge, and the torture begins.
Though they may occasionally use abusive tactics, not every asshole is an abuser. Yet, for our purposes, we can confidently say that the opposite is definitely true. All of these terrible men have in common an innate belief that their feelings, desires, and motivations are of absolutely primary importance. This belief isn’t flexible. It runs to the core of their being, and it requires more than just simple reformation.
It requires complete rebirth.
What separates the abuser from the mere asshole (merely meaning “somewhat less noxious” in this case) is a question of tactics. The asshole is selfish and will pursue self-interest above all. He’s insensitive, but his insensitivity is largely an act of omission. He doesn’t consider your feelings, he rarely even thinks of them—if he ever even bothered to find out what they are. If you think of your relationship with him as a competition, you aren’t the opposing team; you’re a spectator. Cheer or boo as loud as you want, but you’ll never affect the outcome of the game.
The abuser treats you like the opposition. Any attempts you make to assert your own position will be met with hostility. Wanting what he doesn’t want makes you the enemy, and whether the abuser reveals himself quickly or gradually, he’ll treat you like one. Using the game analogy, the abuser isn’t even a competitor who respects you as an opponent. He views you with such contempt that he sees no need to respect even the basic rules of fair play. He wants to win, yes, but he wants more than that. He wants to humiliate you in victory.
Humiliation is a primary tactic of the abuser, given that it accomplishes a couple of different goals for him. First, it establishes a dynamic of willful hypocrisy that is one of his greatest allies. There are clear rules for behavior, but they’re there for your observance alone. Think of the times you’ve dated someone who, when among a group of your friends, became enraged if you didn’t show him the “proper” attention—i.e., anything other than hanging on his every word.
“Disrespect” was almost assuredly at the core of his anger. You brought him around a group of your friends and then “disrespected” him by “ignoring” him all night. The abuser is a big advocate of “respect.” Respect is so sacred to him that your failure to provide it results in a public scene better suited to a disaster movie—shouting, accusations, and the threat of imminent harm.
Nothing says “respect” better than calling you a cold, evil bitch in private, or in front of everyone you know.
Most self-help literature about abusers characterizes their behavior and tactics as having certain key
Mandy M. Roth, Michelle M. Pillow