In 2024, I'm Seeking Someone As Toxic As I Am

Am I worthy of love? That's a question for 2025.

“Painting of tattooed Brooklynites in a dysfunctional relationship” according to DALL-E.

Most people are searching for true love. Me? I'd much prefer a partner who withholds information and judges me harshly.

That's why in 2024, I'm seeking someone as toxic as I am.

I've tried loving relationships, and they always end the same way: with them breaking up with me the moment they discover I’m cheating. This kind of instability causes me a lot of emotional distress, which is why I hack into their work email and send naked pictures of them to their boss. It'd be much better for my mental health if I could find someone with an avoidant attachment style who’s prepared to ghost me the moment I show vulnerability.

When I meet the toxic man of my dreams, it'll be because he used one-word replies to all my texts on Hinge. We'll have our first date at one of those bars in Bushwick that also contains a tattoo parlor. He’ll wear a beanie and tell me his exact salary without me asking. I’ll explain why I cheated on my last two partners—and he’ll explain why he views himself as an “artist” even though he works in sales. After a combined eight espresso martinis, we'll get matching Chinese proverbs tattooed on our forearms.

Then we'll hook up and cease all communication for a week.

Things will progress quickly from there. I'll tell all my friends I have a new boyfriend. He won't mention me to anyone in his life. I'll start to idealize him in my head. He'll only text me past 2AM. After a month of this behavior, he'll invite me to watch his terrible band play a show and serenade me with an angsty version of a random Taylor Swift song.

That night I'll tell him I love him, and he'll say he doesn't know what love is because his father isn't outwardly expressive. After 10 minutes of validating his feelings, he'll invite me to move into his apartment that his parents pay the rent on.

Our life together will be magical: I'll cook meals and he won't acknowledge my effort. He'll Venmo me for all Ubers. During movies, he’ll point out which girls in the film are more attractive than me. Increasingly, he'll stay out late without telling me where he is or what he's doing. When I confront him, he'll say I'm acting paranoid—so I'll start monitoring all his social media activity. Once I convince myself he's cheating, I'll poison his dinner.

In the emergency room, I'll tell him I poisoned him because I was afraid of losing him. He'll view this as a beautiful romantic gesture, and vow to be better. We'll cry into each other's arms. Three weeks later, we'll break up when he admits he was cheating on me the whole time we were dating.

After that, we'll go our separate ways save for constantly checking eachother’s social media profiles. I'll start practicing healthier boundaries by only using a fake Instagram account to stalk my exes. He'll experience growth by traveling to Peru to take ayahuasca. Eventually, we'll reconnect at Burning Man. We'll both be in a better place mentally: he’ll have almost tried attending therapy, and I'll be dabbling in polyamory.

"Should we give this another go?" he'll say between rips of his Elf Bar. I'll just giggle maniacally.

_

People always say you can't love anybody if you don't love yourself. But they never talk about how two people who hate themselves can make eachther’s life a living hell. And that's the key to a great toxic relationship: ensuring the exchange of self-loathing, jealousy, and rage is even such that both parties are equally immiserated.

And while being in a toxic relationship isn't always fun, it does offer the people in your life a lot to gossip about, which is good for your Main Character Syndrome.

Am I worthy of love? That's a question for 2025. In 2024 you can catch me gaslighting, pre-emptively cheating, and falling into and out of obsession with someone as toxic as I am.

---