My mind at the time still correlated performance with love. The entire basis for my self-esteem was foundationally dependent upon whether my woman was happy. My self-image was inexorably bound up in women’s opinion and approval of me. I figured that since I was not receiving the love I so deeply craved, it had to be because of a deficiency in me as the lead character. If I had performed the role of “boyfriend” better, she wouldn’t have cheated. As you can probably imagine, that bought me a first-class ticket on a bullet train to agony.
