“He hates these cans!”

There I was, an unwitting parody of Steve Martin in “The Jerk”.

Martin’s character is working at a service station when a sniper opens fire. Again and again, the sniper shoots in his direction, but only manages to pepper a nearby pyramid of motor oil cans.

"He hates these cans! Stay away from the cans!" Martin’s character exclaims.

My abuser reveled in me identifying and blaming the cans.

I blamed different attachment styles, per attachment theories.

I blamed ADHD.

I blamed childhood trauma.

I blamed myself.

He ate it up.

I remember the day I said “I think you want a far more traditional model of marriage than you thought.” I extended so much grace. Tried to understand why this self proclaimed progressive empath was turning out to be a domineering authoritarian.

I chalked it up to his inexperience. His lack of self awareness, which was apparent. His lack of role models.

It was none of those things.

My abuser wasn’t experiencing a conservative awakening.

He was intentionally exerting more and more control over us.

Domination. Manipulation. Control.

These are the common threads of serial criminals, and this man is the most dangerous kind of criminal.

It wasn’t the cans.