3) Drunk, Disrespectful & Unhinged: When the Groom Tackles the Bride

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Keywords
narcissism, relationships, marriage, mental health, personal growth, emotional abuse, family dynamics, proposal, wedding, pregnancy

Summary
In this episode, Crystal Amoah shares Vanessa's journey through a tumultuous relationship marked by signs of narcissism and emotional abuse. From awkward family dinners to a public proposal that felt wrong, she recounts the red flags that emerged during her engagement and marriage. As the pandemic forced them into close quarters, the initial excitement faded, revealing deeper issues of control, manipulation, and isolation. Vanessa's experience highlights the importance of recognizing one's worth and the dangers of staying in a relationship that dims one's light.

Takeaways

• The initial signs of discomfort can indicate deeper issues.
• Public proposals may not align with personal desires.
• Planning a wedding during a pandemic adds stress.
• Emotional distance can overshadow the honeymoon phase.
• Control in a relationship can manifest in subtle ways.
• Pregnancy can amplify feelings of isolation and neglect.
• It's crucial to recognize when hope becomes a trap.
• A partner's indifference can lead to a loss of identity.
• Love should not feel like a game of chess.
• Your worth is not defined by someone else's perception.

Chapters

00:00
Introduction to the Journey

10:24
Wedding Planning in a Pandemic

17:17
The Honeymoon Phase: A Distant Reality

24:29
Pregnancy and Isolation

30:10
The Breaking Point

Transcript

Crystal Amoah (00:23)
Hello queens, welcome back to F**k Your Fake Apology, where we tear down the masks of those covert narcissists one flag at a time. I'm Crystal, your host, a psychiatric nurse practitioner, and like many of you, I've danced with the devil in disguise. Today's episode, we're diving head first into the romance, the proposal, and yes, spoiler alert, it's not exactly a fairy tale.

So, tighten up your crowns because this episode is about to get real. Okay.

So, it's 2019 and I'm invited to a family gathering at my now ex's brother's house. I can't remember if it's a holiday or just a family dinner, but trust me, the awkwardness was crystal clear. It was just six of us, intimate and quaint. Or so I thought. Little did I know, everyone at this dinner was walking on eggshells. They tried to hide it, but it was written all over their faces.

It was like they were tiptoeing around something, watching him carefully, almost holding their breath. Back then, I thought it was just nerves, maybe even a bit of awkwardness about me being the new girlfriend. But why, you ask? Because they all knew his behavioral patterns. And here I was, clueless, thinking I was the only one who didn't get.

because they all knew his behavior patterns. And here I was, clueless, thinking I was the only one who didn't get the memo. 

Anyway, his family was doing the usual, asking me about my life, my job, my career. And they were impressed. I mean, here I am, an Ivy League educated, successful black woman sitting at their very Armenian, very traditional dinner table. There kids.

Not exactly setting records in the same way. And let's add a layer of awkwardness. They are as Armenian as they come. And here's me, the successful black woman shaking up their family circle. The tension was there, trust me. Like they were trying to figure me out.

His mom decides it's the perfect time to get my professional opinion on mental health topics. Side note, my mother is a very successful psychologist. Here his mother is with the hypothetical psychiatric symptoms. I was like, girl, are you indirectly diagnosing one of your own kids? I can't say for sure, but I think maybe she was. A mother always knows, but I played along, gave her my best psych advice, and kept it moving. 

Like just another dinner conversation. But I noticed something odd. Mr. Charming looked stiff. Almost like he was clenching every muscle in his body, trying to keep himself in check. You know who he reminded me of? Edward Scissor hands. You know that look? Rigid, uncomfortable, like he was in someone else's skin? That was him. This whole dinner was a charade.

He put on for my benefit and his family was in on it. I Just hadn't seen it After the dinner, he told me you did great. I can't even talk to my parents like that and I'm sitting here like That was just normal conversation But he looked at me like I had done something incredible like I'd managed to tame wild animals or something. It was strange But it was just a family dinner

Why were you so constipated? I mean, so uncomfortable, I thought.

And after that family dinner, things seemed to be going well. We're spending almost all of our time at my house. It's larger, had a huge yard for the dogs to run around, and yeah, it's clean. See, he had a German shepherd who was, let's just say, aromatically challenged. And his idea of grooming? Anxiety inducing, apparently. Taking his dog to a groomer made him anxious. Yeah.

I know, bizarre. that dog was funky as hell. His house reeked of dog. You know the smell, right? So I had to lay it out. No grooming, no hanging at my house. And what do you know? He took the dog in. But let's be real. It wasn't because he was, he said, it wasn't because he suddenly had a revelation about hygiene.

Now it's early 2020 and here comes the lockdown. March rolls around and suddenly we're in quarantine together. And at first, I won't lie, it was fun. We set up workspaces in each other's homes and adjusted to this new norm. He even picked up some chores, grocery shopping, laundry, you name it. But let me tell you, living with eight paws, mud and fur everywhere, my once clean house was turning into a zoo.

But he'd vacuum occasionally. I think he noticed my annoyance or discomfort with my new norm.

Months passed, we're growing closer, and one day we have the talk. You know, about the future, kids, marriage. Now I know what you're thinking, red flags, Vanessa, but at that time, I thought this was amazing, you know, from a guy from a good family who wanted to build a life with me. 

My birthday was around in the spring and I'm thinking a proposal is in the works. But nope, no ring. Fast forward a week and my mom and honor over. Nothing strange. Nothing stranger at all.

forward a week and my mom and aunt are over nothing strange there because they frequently visited me but they brought flowers cute right well surprise surprise he proposes but not the way I dreamed he does in front of my mom and aunt cameras out and all I was so uncomfortable I wanted something intimate private but there he was on one knee saying

Baby I love you. Can't remember the rest because I'm so embarrassed and all I could think of was, this isn't right. 

And let's be real, the ring wasn't my style either. He'd gone shopping with his mom and sister-in-law, two people who clearly didn't get my vibe, and picked out a ring that just wasn't me. But I pushed those feelings aside, told myself to be grateful, and moved forward. But later, my mom told me she bought the flowers because he didn't even think to do that himself. Can you imagine? A proposal with nothing? Am I being picky or spoiled? I don't know.

But I was disappointed. I didn't get to experience that emotional response of pure joy. I was embarrassed. Shouldn't he even know me and what I want? I envisioned my proposal super intimate, a romantic night in or a romantic night in or early morning in bed. Having my man look me in the eyes with no one around professing his love. Something along those lines, like borderline hallmarks.

Okay, please don't judge me. Could he have proposed the way he did because he knew, could he have proposed the way he did because he knew I was very close to my mother and assumed this was how I envisioned my engagement? Unfortunately, I'll never know this. I'll never know. I'll never know his thought process. So we're engaged. Yay. I asked him about a timeframe and he's like, why wait?

Let's do it this December. And I'm thinking, okay, 2021, that's doable. But no, he meant this December in the middle of a pandemic. What? I thought, how am I gonna pull this off?

Presented him with the courthouse. Why not? Considering, you know, being in a pandemic and we'd save a ton of money. He wanted no parts of it. So I went along with it. I'm calling venues and that was the but. I'm calling venues and that was a bust. Then resorted to, we can do this. We being my mom and me, I'm calling party rental companies for.

Quotes on tables, chairs, linens, tent, dance floor. You get the idea. With my busy work schedule, I realized I couldn't make this happen. Not the way I envisioned it. I found this amazing wedding planner. So along with my mom, we planned this vintage theme wedding in my backyard. Tent, dance floor, vintage car for photos, the works. The big day comes. My anxiety is through the roof.

And Mr. Charming is as calm as ever. But here's the thing. Every step of the way, I kept feeling this strange sense of dread. It wasn't just wedding jitters. It was something deeper, a feeling I couldn't shake. During the hair and makeup, my heart was pounding. My hands were shaking. I even took a volume from a friend to calm down. I told myself it was just the stress. But in my gut,

I knew something wasn't

But at the photoshoot on the mansion grounds, Mr. Charming snapped on my father.

He was so excited and was following us around the grounds, taking his own photos, and my soon-to-be husband snapped on my father. I'm sure the photographers were a little annoyed, but they didn't express it, and it was completely unwarranted. I felt bad for my dad. I saw the look on his face like, who the fuck does this motherfucker think he is, followed by disappointment. Now let me provide the scoop on my daddy.

He certainly wouldn't be someone you'd want to mess with about 10 years ago. He was the kind of person that would make a phone call and things would be handled. But he has found God and has devoted himself to his higher power. Good for him, right? So back to my thoughts on the freakout. It's the wedding day. It's stressful, right? Emotions are high and we were running a little behind. I figured he was just overwhelmed again.

I didn't think anything of it. There was so much going on and I let it go. I'm seeing a pattern here, are you? That was red flag number, I've lost count by now. Gossip Girl voiceover.

During the ceremony, my parents walked me down the aisle, and when I finally looked into my fiance's eyes, I feel awkward. He wouldn't blink, just staring. It was intense in the worst way possible. And then we kissed. And it's the last real kiss he'd give me as my husband. and my uncle told me later he saw my new husband yelling at his parents before the ceremony.

I I missed that fun tidbit. After that, the reception went on. The toast, the speeches, dinner, the dance floor. was everything you'd expect.

Then the drinking started and he wasn't holding back. He was pounding back beers, getting louder, sloppier with his friends. I tried to ignore it, told myself it was his wedding day. He was just celebrating. But then as I was dancing with friends and family, he did the unthinkable. He tackled me. Yes, he tackled me right there on the dance floor in my wedding dress.

in front of everyone.

I could feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment. The shock from my friends and family. I laughed it off, tried to make it seem like a silly moment, but inside, I was humiliated. I was his new wife, and he just tackled me like I was his buddy on a football field. I'll never forget his face. He had this goofy look on his face, kept clenching his jaw.

and a smile I'll never forget. Is this what our marriage was going to be? A series of public humiliations that I had to pretend didn't bother me? But that's not it. He got pissy-ass drunk and my father suggested he go lay down. He yelled or slurred, I should say, fuck you, Michael, to my dad.

So this is the second flip out slash disrespect of the day to my father. Being the man that he is, he laughed it off and helped him upstairs to bed, where he threw up all over himself and my father. 

So that was my wedding night. No lustful sex or lovemaking. Just me laying next to my drunk husband that smelled of beer and vomit. Amazing, right? So that was it. We were married. No honeymoon. Just a quick day trip because his dog, of course, the dogs, couldn't be left alone for too long. It wasn't a romantic getaway. It was just another day. We took a day trip, got some food, walked the

and headed back home. I tried to stay positive. We were in the middle of a pandemic. There was nothing we could safely do, right? I tried to remind myself that marriage wasn't about perfection. I told myself it would get better, but it didn't. So there we were, newlyweds navigating our so-called honeymoon phase instead of passion and closeness.

What I got was distance and coldness. I tried to bring up my concerns, but every time he dismissed me. We're married now, he'd say. This is just an adjustment period, he'd say. I kept trying to tell myself he was right, that maybe things would get better. But deep down, I knew this wasn't normal. I'd heard about honeymoon phases, seen the way newlyweds were supposed to look at each other, but the intimacy.

the emotional and physical closeness just wasn't there. It was like he was a different person now, someone I didn't recognize. Plus, I'd seen enough Lifetime, Bravo, and Hallmark to know this wasn't normal. Now don't get me wrong, those are scripted shows, but there must be some truth to it, right? The truth was we weren't intimate. Yep, no sex as newlyweds.

He said he felt inadequate as a man. My response was, I'm your wife, not some random female or girlfriend. Why would, why do you wait until now to disclose this to me? thought this wasn't right. It's like I was.

This wasn't right. It's like he was raping my soul.

It was just always something. To be a supportive wife, I did some research and found an intimacy therapist. He was a little resistant, but agreed, and of course I paid for the few sessions we had.  At our first session, I was surprised to hear him so confident with the male therapist. He even told the therapist that he was on the smaller side and it made him feel uncomfortable. The therapist asked questions and gave us recommendations that we were supposed to work on during a two week period. Apparently, we were complete opposites when it came to intimacy and needed to take extra steps for us to be somewhat happy. My head was.

Bracing because this new behavior made no sense. He was not like that before so why all of a sudden this wall I Anyway, so I tried and I got the candle the instructions were to light a specific candle in the bedroom Hours before pretty much signaling. Let's get it on That way would provide him enough time to gain confidence. I guess I Did it twice and he ignored it?

Alrighty then, this isn't working. We had three sessions and I stopped booking. It was a waste of my money. And then he began pushing for more control. The ultimate betrayal. I add him to the deed of my house. I barely remember signing, but there I was in between work meetings making the biggest mistake of my life. And just like that, he had a claim to my house.

The house I worked my ass off for. And the kicker? He emails me, I love you, after receiving the deed with his name on it. Classic love bombing, right? The crazy thing is, I brought this...

The crazy thing is, I brought up us having a prenup before the marriage, and he claimed his father told him neither of us had anything at this point. Motherfucker, excuse me. I had something, but I figured he wouldn't want anything from me considering his parents had money. The biggest mistake I made was not bringing this up to my parents. My mother for sure would have said, always get a prenup no matter what.

If he doesn't want it, it's for a reason. Protect yourself, Vanessa. Don't listen to your heart over that brain of yours because nothing is promised, including love. Mommy dearest knows best. Now he was coming up with reasons to refinance. He claimed it was for financial security.

that it made sense since we were married now. I wanted to believe him.

I wanted to believe him, to believe this was just another step in our future together. But it was more than that. It was about claiming the life I had built. 

He now has claimed my life and the passive aggressive comments begin.

The subtle digs at my personality, my achievements. He started with little things. Bad candid compliments that seemed harmless on the surface. Like, wow, you're actually good at that. Who knew? He'd say like he was doing me a favor by acknowledging my skills. And I laughed it off at first, but it kept happening. It was his way of reminding me that I wasn't as impressive as I thought I was.

But then the comparison started. His mother, the saintly woman who could do no wrong, became his point of reference for everything. According to him, she was the epitome of perfection, organized, efficient, and a badass. And every time he brought her up, I felt like I was being measured against a standard I couldn't possibly meet or wanted to because I found her to be a little off. Strange and kind of goofy, to be honest.

No matter what I did, I was always a little less than her, a little less organized, a little less perfect, a little less everything. He started organizing my kitchen cabinets, moving accessories or putting them in the basement. He was attempting to redecorate a house that was professionally designed and decorated because it was not efficient enough for him. Many would ask, why let him do it, Vanessa?

And the answer is that it wasn't worth the argument. I tried putting my foot down with him before and I was just told pretty much I had no idea what I was doing. And I didn't want to go down that road again.

Then came the conversations about children. It was initiated by me. I was nearing 40 and the pressure was on. We both wanted a family or at least I thought he did. We started trying and almost immediately he turned what should have been a joyful experience into a routine. Our intimacy was robotic, clinical, as if he was fulfilling an obligation rather than sharing a moment. But somehow

Despite everything, I got pregnant. I was ecstatic. My mother was overjoyed. Even his parents shared the same excitement. This was what I'd always dreamed of. I tried to create those special moments I'd always dreamed of. Talking to my belly, talking to my baby, rubbing my belly, imagining the future. He didn't share that joy. When I asked him to talk to the baby, he brushed it off. He'd say,

the point. It's not like she'll hear us or understand.

Fool, such a damn fool I thought. Those little moments, those gestures that I'd always thought were part of a shared experience just didn't exist for him. So I did them alone. I talked to my baby, whispered to her, shared my hopes and dreams because someone had to.

As my pregnancy progressed, I became exhausted. I was working 40 hour weeks, no, excuse me. As my pregnancy progressed, I became exhausted. I was working 50 hour weeks. My body was changing and the last thing I needed was extra stress. But that's exactly what I got. He'd call me lazy, criticize me for not keeping up with the housework or cooking. He acted like I was a

burden, an inconvenience, someone who was supposed to make his life easier. Meanwhile, his daily routine was a picture of leisure. He'd wake up early, make noise with his espresso machine that woke me up every morning, leave a shit fest in the bathroom every damn morning. Ugh, that shit used to piss me off. Who wants to go use the bathroom and find someone's shit in an

Who wants to go use a bathroom and find someone shitting it multiple times a day? Why not double flush or clean it? And then he'd go for a long dog.

After that, he'd settle into his lounge. A room he designated as his personal retreat where he'd watch TV for hours, ESPN, World War II documentaries, CNN. It was his escape while I was handling work calls and managing deadlines. Every day, I was the one who felt inadequate. I'd come home after a full day's work, pregnant, exhausted, and there he'd be lounging

watching TV as if he didn't have a care in the world. When I started working from home, my assistant would come to the house frequently to do some admin work and keep me company. He would come to my office at times to give his unwarranted two cents on some projects. He even offered to set up a meeting with a so-called associate of his for me to present something my company had been working on, getting into the right hands.

When I brought it up to him about a few weeks later, he acted like he had no idea what I was talking about. My assistant and I looked at each other, confused, after he excused himself. I said, am I crazy, or did he just said...

I said, am I crazy or did he set up a meeting or did he say, am I crazy or did he say he'd set up a meeting? She said, you're not crazy. Please don't take this wrong, but he's clearly lying right now. I was so embarrassed and I said, I know.

Not long after that, she started to experience his passive aggressive insults. One day, she walked in my office and said, why is he so mean to me? I simply told her, it's just tough love, don't pay him any attention. What I really wanted to say was, welcome to my life of living with a prick with a little dick.

After that day, working from my house became less and less until she stopped. When he noticed, he asked how I was able to deal with her. In his words, she's strange and takes advantage of you. You're paying her to do nothing and it's weird how she worships you. He pretty much forced me to fire my friend and our friendship hasn't been the same since. 

I cannot remember the specifics, but it had to do with him either calling me lazy or upset with me for not doing something. So during this auscultation, he looked at me as I was carrying his child and said, I'm not going to be your babysitter. His words hit me like a punch in the gut. Here I was pregnant, exhausted, already carrying the weight of our lives.

Here I was pregnant, exhausted, already carrying the weight of our lives together, and he was telling me he wouldn't even help with his own child.

At that moment, I promised myself I'd never rely on him. I was just going to raise this child on my own terms without his help because I knew I couldn't count on him. I'd make sure I'd never had to depend on him for anything that mattered. The final blow came when we discussed my delivery. I told him about the induction, explained that I need him there by my side supporting me. And he looked at me, unfazed, and said,

I have to coach soccer. After the delivery, I'm going to practice. He was a volunteer. His volunteer coaching position was more important than staying with his wife and newborn child. I couldn't believe it. The man who was supposed to be my partner, my husband, was choosing high school soccer over our family. 

In the end, it wasn't me who convinced him to stay. It was the head coach who told him, you need to be with your wife and child. The team will be fine. It took another man to tell him how to be a husband and a father. And he had the nerves to actually tell me this. And that realization broke something inside of me. I knew deep down that I was alone in this. So there I was.

carrying our child, bearing the brunt of his indifference, his criticisms, his disregard. The future I'd imagined with him was slipping further and further away, replaced by hollow existence of constant disappointment. I'd gone from being his love to his possession, and the saddest part, I wasn't even surprised anymore. Gus of growth.

As the days went by, I felt myself fading, slipping into a version of me that I barely recognized. I was no longer strong, independent, wait, I was no longer the strong, independent woman who'd built a life for herself. I was a shadow clinging to a marriage that had taken everything from me. I was fighting for something I didn't even believe in anymore, but I stayed. I stayed because I had hope.

Hope that he'd change, that things would get better. That somehow he'd become the man I thought he was. But hope, it can be deceiving. I was a married widow. 

Queens, if you take one thing from this episode, it'll be this. Love isn't supposed to feel like a chess game where one person is always losing. If you feel controlled, manipulated, or if your dreams feel dimmer because of someone else's, that's your red flag. And we're just scratching the surface of this story. But remember, your worth is beyond.

anyone's fake apology or manipulative moves. Until next time, keep your head high, keep your intuition sharp, and remember, we're in this together. See you next week.