Dale had a keen sense for fashion. He worked in retail so it was part of his job, but he definitely knew what he liked both for himself and for me. He gifted me many clothes, complete outfits, jewelry, shoes, and handbags throughout the years. So much so that it would be fair to say that 75% of my closet was made up of clothes picked out by him.
In the beginning, it was really sweet and appreciated. Whose boyfriend does that? No one that I knew. It made me feel like he paid attention to me and to little details about me. When I met him, it was in the late 90's and I was kind of into that somewhat grungy look. I wore really big clothes, not flattering for my petite frame, and I wouldn't call my style feminine either.
Dale was the first to initiate more form fitting/flattering clothes. He complimented me when I wore them and showed off my body more. He helped to make me feel more pretty and confident and I started to embrace the style of clothes that he introduced and supplied me with. We had a lot of fun together, going shopping, for me. He was better than going shopping with a girlfriend. I defined my sense of fashion by what pleased him and still to this day, my choice in clothing still reminds me of him and his influence on me.
There came a point when it became apparent that these shopping sprees and gifts were not given out of pure love and the desire to make me happy and smile. The desire was his and it was sexual. The clothes became short and the heels became higher. They weren't practical for me, for my lifestyle, and they made me feel very uncomfortable. When I tried to express that, it turned to his wants and needs. He told me that he thought that I was beautiful and sexy and that it was for him, no one else, and that's all that should matter.
The tip of the iceberg came in November 2010, just days before Thanksgiving. I had been coloring my hair for years, mainly blonde. I am a natural blonde, but not a natural beach blonde, which was my usual go-to color. Yes, that is what Dale liked best, until he wanted me to try being a brunette. I didn't want to. I withheld for years, yes this was conversation and request that wouldn't end. Finally, I decided to give in. I went to get my hair done and I thought I would surprise him when I came home with dark hair. The reception that I got was not what I expected, at all. Even though he knew that it was for him and him alone, I was told that it had taken me so long to do it, that he didn't even care anymore. It was still subconscious, but I believe that it was then that I realized that nothing that I could do would ever make him happy with me.
In the beginning, it was really sweet and appreciated. Whose boyfriend does that? No one that I knew. It made me feel like he paid attention to me and to little details about me. When I met him, it was in the late 90's and I was kind of into that somewhat grungy look. I wore really big clothes, not flattering for my petite frame, and I wouldn't call my style feminine either.
Dale was the first to initiate more form fitting/flattering clothes. He complimented me when I wore them and showed off my body more. He helped to make me feel more pretty and confident and I started to embrace the style of clothes that he introduced and supplied me with. We had a lot of fun together, going shopping, for me. He was better than going shopping with a girlfriend. I defined my sense of fashion by what pleased him and still to this day, my choice in clothing still reminds me of him and his influence on me.
At some point, an act that seemed to be genuine and caring at first, started to reveal more of a selfish tone. Something happened during our last year in Virginia. I don't know what it was and I didn't realize it until later on. But looking back at Dale and at us, something really fundamentally wrong started to take over.
There came a point when it became apparent that these shopping sprees and gifts were not given out of pure love and the desire to make me happy and smile. The desire was his and it was sexual. The clothes became short and the heels became higher. They weren't practical for me, for my lifestyle, and they made me feel very uncomfortable. When I tried to express that, it turned to his wants and needs. He told me that he thought that I was beautiful and sexy and that it was for him, no one else, and that's all that should matter.
What matters most is how one feels about themselves. Hypocrite sometimes passes my mind when I do wear something that is "sexy" today. However, I am a much different person today than I was then. I have found myself and I am confident. I choose what I wear. It is not imposed upon me and it is a reflection on who I am and how I want to present myself.
The tip of the iceberg came in November 2010, just days before Thanksgiving. I had been coloring my hair for years, mainly blonde. I am a natural blonde, but not a natural beach blonde, which was my usual go-to color. Yes, that is what Dale liked best, until he wanted me to try being a brunette. I didn't want to. I withheld for years, yes this was conversation and request that wouldn't end. Finally, I decided to give in. I went to get my hair done and I thought I would surprise him when I came home with dark hair. The reception that I got was not what I expected, at all. Even though he knew that it was for him and him alone, I was told that it had taken me so long to do it, that he didn't even care anymore. It was still subconscious, but I believe that it was then that I realized that nothing that I could do would ever make him happy with me.
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