The Final Night
Reflecting on the evening that pushed me to leave “Brandon” for good is terrifying. The last time I saw him, I stumbled upon a stash of drugs in his apartment. It was a balmy summer Friday; I had just returned from my parents’ place where I spent Wednesday night doing laundry. After attempting to reach him Thursday evening without success, he finally answered Friday morning, claiming he had been sleeping the entire time. Given his cocaine habit, that was a suspiciously long slumber. Despite my reservations, I chose to believe him and we made dinner plans for later that night. He suggested I drop off my belongings at his apartment and then join him at the restaurant located in his building.
That night, when I arrived at his place, I couldn’t find my hairbrush, which I distinctly remembered leaving there. As I rifled through the drawer where my things were stored, I discovered a condom wrapper but none of my belongings. I tore his apartment apart in a frenzy, going through his trash like a scavenger. I uncovered more condom wrappers, empty liquor bottles, bags of cocaine, and cups stained with purple lipstick—everything except the actual used condoms, which he had the foresight to hide.
My emotions were a tempest—fury, shock, and disbelief coursed through me. Why would he leave such damning evidence out in the open? Was this yet another one of his manipulative games, or did he simply not care that I would discover his infidelity? I was devastated, especially when I noticed my belongings were inexplicably missing and found a third toothbrush in the bathroom.
Confronting the Truth
In any normal situation, I would have walked away, deleted his number, and never looked back. But I craved closure and the truth. This time, I wanted to confront him with undeniable proof. I couldn’t give him the opportunity to spin his pathetic excuses again. The evidence of his true nature was littered throughout his apartment—what more did I need? He might as well have been having sex with her right in front of me.
Dinner was a silent affair; I didn’t speak to anyone, including him. I simply sat there, observing the wreckage of my life, refusing to eat or drink. I was indifferent to the judgment of the other guests at the table because I knew I wouldn’t see them again.
Purple Lipstick
Would you believe that the fool had a purple lipstick kiss mark on his neck? He flaunted it like a badge of honor. The woman to his left had the same shade of lipstick and left immediately after finishing her meal. Throughout dinner, he attempted to kiss me and hold my hand, oblivious to my silence. It was as if he relished the drama he had orchestrated, waiting for me to confront the lipstick-wearing woman over him. His inability to empathize with anyone but himself was chilling; he seemed to take pleasure in the emotional pain he inflicted on me.
After the meal, we returned to his apartment in silence. The moment the door clicked shut, I erupted, pointing out all the evidence. He merely smirked, attributing everything to his friend and the cleaning staff. Why would cleaners hide my belongings? And why would a friend come all the way from the beach just to sleep with a random girl in his apartment? He refused to address the lipstick mark, and I knew whatever excuse he conjured would be a fabrication. At that moment, I finally understood the reality of the twisted individual I had been involved with.
Infidelity Revealed
The shocking realization was that he had been cheating on both of us. He was juggling me, his wife, and several other women, possibly including a gay friend. How could anyone sustain such a web of deceit? After that disastrous night, he tried to win me back, but there was nothing left to salvage. The last time we spoke was that Sunday after our tumultuous dinner. While I was yelling at him, he had the audacity to text someone else, leading me to believe he had already lined up another relationship.
Later, I learned that the woman he was texting during our final call was a local stripper/escort. This woman has since filed a restraining order against him due to the chaos he caused in her life.
Escaping the Chaos
I was so shaken that I decided to escape to Italy with friends for a few weeks. Shortly after returning, I received a call from the stripper, who claimed Brandon had given her my number and wanted me to vouch for him. She wanted to confirm that he was “good to me” before committing to him. How could he possibly think he treated me well? I wanted no part of his manipulative games and hung up on her.
When Brandon found out I wouldn’t vouch for him, the harassment began—threatening texts and calls flooded in for months. Instead of looking for a job after graduation, I moved away to stay with family in Australia. I believe that if I hadn’t made that drastic change, his harassment would have continued. He had no choice but to leave me alone once I changed my number and relocated.
Lessons Learned
Revisiting this part of my life is painful, but I’ve gleaned valuable insights from the experience. It’s sickening to realize I was ever entangled with someone so toxic. Even though our relationship lasted only a few months, it was intensely damaging. I was able to heal once I understood the truth; nothing is more painful than dealing with a deceitful, manipulative partner, as it leaves you with countless unanswered questions.
I thank the universe that you, the wife, reached out to me through his phone records. Together, we pieced together the grim reality of his life. Learning that his drug issues weren’t new and that he had a criminal past was horrifying. Discovering that he was still involved with you while sleeping with me was shocking. We were both at risk, engaging in unprotected encounters with him. Did he care so little about our health and well-being?
The trauma of this experience has been overwhelming. I could have faced severe consequences related to his reckless lifestyle. The reality is that I managed to escape relatively unscathed, and I feel fortunate to have learned about the existence of manipulative individuals like him early on.
I hope that you don’t share this letter with him, as I’m still fearful of his potential reaction. I have built a new life and I fear he’ll attempt to destroy it. In my early twenties, I was ill-prepared for the chaos Brandon brought into my life, and I am relieved that I didn’t contract any diseases or suffer physical harm from his reckless behavior.
For anyone dealing with similar situations, I recommend checking out Psychopaths and Love for more insights, and Out of the Fog for invaluable resources. Additionally, you can find helpful information in The Sociopath Next Door by Martha Stout, available here.