I met my ex-husband when I was twenty years old. I dated him for seven months then my father insisted I agree to marry him since the social culture in Iran didn’t accept other relationships between young women and men but marriages at that time. My marriage lasted for six years, and as I recall, it was seventy two months hassling. My ex-husband was the worst person I’ve ever known.
He was ridiculously jealous. It was common in Iranian culture to have a jealous husband, but his weariness was crossing the line to extreme. For example, the first year of our marriage on New Year’s Eve, he started to have some attitude and stopped talking to me at a party. I was embarrassed in front of others, and on the other hand, I was scared. I had no idea that he was upset because I danced. He stated later on I should never dance again unless I danced with him, or he gave me the permission to do so. His jealousy wasn’t related just to my behavior and me, but it also extended to further aspects. As an example, he used to play tennis, and he would go to the club with his friends. One day he lost his game while his friend won. He was so envy that not only he didn’t congratulate his friend but wished his friend was sick to lose.
Secondly, he was egoistic and opportunism. He was the center of the universe, or the sun rose from west. For instance, he always had to have his annual birthday parties while mine could easily be forgotten. On his birthdays, I had to prepare, cook, serve, and clean, so he could just have fun. In addition, he never supported me financially. I had a part time job, and my father helped me to pay my personal expenses. Likewise, he used to take advantage of any chances and people for his own benefit. When my father was struggling with cancer and the treatment,as an example, he was thinking about my father’s death and properties since he was already planning about what he wanted to do with the inheritance.
Furthermore, he was irresponsible regarding his decisions and deeds. Whenever we had a date, he was late. One Friday night, I waited an hour in the main street. He didn’t apologize but had an excuse; the traffic was heavy, or he was on time. Moreover, in many critical situations, he changed the scenario in a way, so I was the guilty person. For instance, I didn’t like funeral ceremonies, and it was his mother’s brother-in-law’s funeral. He told me that it wasn’t crucial to attend the ceremony, so I didn’t. Realizing I wasn’t there, his mother was offended because she took it personally. He didn’t explain to his mother why I wasn’t there but adapted to her notion and put the blame on me that I did not respect his mother and didn’t attend the ceremony for that purpose.
I was so negatively influenced by him during our marriage that I was horrified to trust men for some good amount of time after our divorce. Being his wife again is my worst nightmare; hence, I doubt I ever forget him.
