The Loser "Fucktard," he shouted. My world stopped. I stared blankly ahead. No one I loved this much would ever hurt me, I thought. Love was enough, I thought. To help heal his past trauma, just love. But no. Every insecurity, every pain I had was heightened by that one word—"Fucktard." A basic promise—of never name-calling me again, of regretting his actions the first time—was broken. And with that, my trust. Never again will I believe in "love conquers all." All love ever did for me was hurt. How could I expect him to be different? He proved that he lacks respect for me. Why? Because I'm unconditionally and irrevocably in love with someone who has put his ex on a pedestal. "Does it feel good, babe? Name-calling me when I'm fighting with you about name-calling me, when you never did it to your abusive ex? Even when she hit you and slapped you? When you never name-called her, and then you tell me I'm the one—why would I ever believe you?...