An open letter to courtanie and the people she has been lying to for three months;
I would like to start by saying hello, my name is Danny, I'm the “bitch who stole Nee” from Courtanie as if he were her property or something. Before I go ahead with what I want to say, I want to make a few things clear. Courtanie, I never wanted your ex-boyfriend as anything other than a good friend. I've been happily single for five years and I will be happily single for five more, besides the fact that I am a lesbian who isn't very fond of sex in the first place. So the thought of having sex with Nee, well, you can see where that might go. Boys are not my thing. You never had anything to worry about, and yet you acted as if you did.
Of all the things you've said about me on your blog, the one thing that frustrates me is the suggestion that I would buy him an iPhone 6. Not only because you thought it was for cheating purposes, which it wouldn't have been, but also because the iPhone is probably the shittiest phone ever, in my opinion. Gross. Also, if I wanted a jobless booty-call, I wouldn't be getting him no iPhone 6. I would have gotten him a cheap trac phone and probably would have gotten a job that kept me in the area. TL;DR being hell no, I didn't buy him an iPhone 6. Not for an expensive ass booty call and not for any other reason. I'm still offended every time I think about you accusing me of this truly stupid thought.
Which brings me to the point of this open letter. You wanted to know why he left, and why he didn't say anything. And I get it, I really do. I understand the frustration of not knowing and all you want in life is to know. Its probably, in some way, unfair that he never contacted you to tell you why he left. In not as many words as he has shared with me, I'm going to tell you why he left. Not why he told me, but what I saw on New Years Eve.
When I came to visit on New Years Eve, I triple-checked with him to make sure you were going to be okay with it. I'm not sure if you know this, but I consistently asked if he and you needed anything I could give. I bought cigarettes for both of you when I was going through cheap states. I knew very vaguely of your situations before New Years Eve, but I still asked to make sure you two were doing well. He was and still is one of my best friends, and has been for more than five years. I wanted to make sure he was alright, just as I do with all my friends. And on New Years Eve, I had hoped to extend that friendship to you.
Unfortunately, you had other plans. I'm not going to speak secondhand nonsense, yet. Everything I'm going to tell you now is what I saw, directly, on New Years Eve, that to this day still makes me angry.
The first hint that not all was right was before we even got to the house. I've known Nee a long time, and I know his brand of affection includes playful assholery. A sort of “I make fun of you, you make fun of me, we're bonded now.” At first I thought that was what was going on, but I've been in my fair share of bad relationships and I grew up in an abusive home. You weren't being playful, you were being mean. Whenever you shot an insult at him and he tried giving one back, you shot him down with ten times the brutality.
When we got to the house, I presented the both of you with the gifts I'd collected. Without going into detail of what they were, only two of those – the cigarettes and the kindle – were actually bought for the two of you (which I later learned you claimed as your own, so there's that much). The rest of the goodies I came with were things I no longer needed, and while nice, were all more than four years old. It was after the gift-giving, which I do with every one of my friends, you started really showing your true colors.
In no relationship is violently punching your boyfriend in the ass playful or funny.
I stood in the kitchen and wished desperately to be anywhere but there as you tore Nee to pieces verbally and hit him hard enough for me to hear, all under the guise of being playful. You were not being playful, Courtanie, you were being possessive and abusive. You were putting your mark on him and telling me in clear, neon lights that he was your property and I should keep my distance. Courtanie, I had no intentions of doing anything other than writing stupid stories and telling dumb jokes with Nee. To this day, those are my exact intentions.
The whole time you were hitting him and verbally abusing him, he was pleading with you to be nicer. He was trying to cuddle up to you and be gentle with you, hugging you and kissing you. I stood in the kitchen absolutely mortified as you slammed him about being trans. You don't do that, Courtanie. Never. Especially not in a relationship with someone you supposedly love. But I didnt say anything because I still held out hope that you were in a loving relationship with each other and he was happy, which is all I want my friends to be. Maybe he liked being belittled about being transgender, who was I to say anything about it? People are weird and Nee is certainly weirder than most friends I have.
A sampling of the things you said on New Years Eve directly relating to Nee being transgender; “You don't have a dick,” “I'll find someone with a dick,” and in response to him saying he would show you a good time later - “With what dick?” On top of it, you threatened to leave him multiple times in a way that didn't sound at all playful.
You spoke to him not like a boyfriend, but like someone lesser than you. You hit him, pinched him, grabbed him inappropriately in front of me, and spit transphobic bullshit at him. This was a guy you were supposed to be in love with, Courtanie. That is not love, that is abuse. Plain and simple, that is abuse.
When you weren't getting your way, you would grab him. When he tried bringing me into the conversation, you claimed you were tired and going to bed. When Nee showed me a quick tour of the upstairs because of my anxiety about 'empty spaces' in houses, he said he was going to pop in and check on you because he was worried. You hadn't gone upstairs to sleep, you went upstairs to make him chase you up there and get him away from me, a wrongly perceived threat to your relationship. You were awake doing something the whole time. He went up at midnight for the ridiculous tradition of a New Years Kiss and I sat downstairs with my dog, freaking out because by then it was painfully clear that you absolutely hated me. I'm not dumb, I know when someone dislikes me and I definitely know when someone hates me.
When Nee wouldn't come back up to you in whatever you considered a timely manner, you came down for him. You slammed into the kitchen with someone on the phone, sat there on speaker with the person, and cried until Nee got up from the living room and came to comfort you. He was talking to you about it, and telling you that you can still be friends with that person despite the fight, and that he didn't mind. If that person was someone you wanted in your life, that was alright but he was going to pass. You replied by telling him flat out if he was friends with someone you didn't like, you would tell him not to be friends with them anymore and would be really pissed if he kept talking to them. You tried to pick a fight with him for fifteen minutes until he gently and sweetly coaxed you back upstairs. I smoked three cigarettes before he came back down and I was jittery the rest of the night, even if you didn't make another appearance.
This was not how New Years Eve was supposed to go. I had imagined the three of us getting a bit tipsy, playing a few board games, chatting the night away, and me going back to my truck by 1 in the morning. I wanted to get to know you, Courtanie, and now I wonder why I ever did. I'm mad that I ever tried to get to know you, that I ever tried to be nice to you, that I ever bought you a carton of cigarettes. You're a mean person, Courtanie. This is just what I saw on New Years. This doesn't include the two skype calls on which I heard you clearly say a few things you wouldn't like your followers to hear.
One night in January, Nee and I were doing a Skype call because I wanted to show him the Stitch doll I bought from the mall. His speakers were on and as I was showing him, I heard you clearly whine in the background, “I'm horny,” to which he replied “I'm not really in the mood.” You proceeded to beg him for sex for a few minutes while he froze you out because he already said no. Then you said, “I'm going on Tinder to find a dude with a dick who will fuck me.” You meant it, it wasn't a joke.
A few nights later, you were talking to him about something. Although I forget the exact context of this conversation, the words “I'll take you to the vet and ask for euthanasia” stay in my mind. You weren't being cute, you weren't being funny. You were being downright mean.
These were things I saw, and heard, firsthand. These aren't things he told me, these aren't things I heard from someone else. You can't deny any of the above, and I am guessing you cant deny any of the following either. Yes it does take two to make a relationship sour. I do not absolve Nee of any wrongdoing in the three years you were dating. I do not, however, think he did anything to deserve the way you treated him. Not on New Years, not during those skype calls when you weren't aware someone else was listening, and not when no one else was looking.
You want to know why Nee didn't talk to you, and why he left in the dead of night? He was scared of you. You spent three years molding him into whatever cookie-cutter shape you wanted him to be and you manipulated him to get the results you expected. You made him quit his job so you could move in with your parents. A job where he could have easily supported himself, you, and Cybil in a small apartment with your help. You forced him to quit his job for your own selfish wants. You coerced him into sex when he didnt want it, accused him of cheating when he wasn't, and threatened to cheat when he refused to have sex with you. You threatened to tell your dad he was abusing you to have your dad more or less kick his ass. Nee lived under the threat of constant physical abuse, and lived with constant verbal abuse. He was terrified to talk to one of his best friends because you talked to that person as well and he thought somehow his fears would get back to you. The only reason he talked to me, the only reason I found out anything was truly wrong, was when he got on the truck for the week.
And here again is firsthand evidence of your bad attitude. The entire time he was on the truck, you sent him passive-aggresive messages. You followed those with apologies and saying how much you missed him. It happened almost once a day. When he did get home, you didnt care about the things he'd seen or the things he'd done. You didn't call me by my name, you called me “Trucker Bitch.” You stopped listening when he said anything about that week.
You stole money from him. Money that I gave him for himself, for rent, for whatever he needed it for. You stole it from his wallet to buy yourself craft things, to buy cigarettes, to pay your car insurance. You treated him like he was only there to make money, and for you to take that money. That isn't what a boyfriend is. A boyfriend is more than a pocketbook and a dick, which seems to be the only thing you ever cared about as far as I could see firsthand and as far as I've heard secondhand.
When he left, you went on a multiple-post rampage over how much of a coward he was, and how awful he was. You answered asks publicly specifically to guilt him into coming back. You never once stopped to text him, to call him. Not until much later in the day. You didn't wake up and wonder where he went, you just skipped from worry to fury. You called his parents and left a long, nasty message on their answering machine telling them they had to make Nee go back to you. You actually tried to reach his parents before he could, to wrap your abusive fingers around him and pull him back in. You didn't ask him where he was, the first text message you sent asked why the fuck he left and said you deserved an answer.
It took a mutual friend to rip into you before you realized you'd fucked up. You kicked the dog a few too many times and other people found out. You deleted every message you published with a silly “oh, my phone did that on accident” post, as if it hadn't all been on purpose to draw Nee out. You tried getting to him in any way you knew how. You tried tearing him apart even after he'd gotten away from you. If you ever cared in the beginning, you didn't care when I met you and that is more than enough reason for Nee to leave.
You said “Love makes you fucking selfish, you guys. So fucking selfish and rude. “
No Courtanie. Love makes you selfless, not selfish.
I hope you never get the chance to do this to another human being again.
