I've been together with X for three months now. I broke up with Y, my previous partner for her. We've been together for seven years, having dogs and cats as replacement for the kids I always wanted, but she never did. I accepted this.

I also accepted when she bought a horse on the morning after my 40th birthday, leaving me alone with our sleepover guests.

I accepted when she showed no interest in my hobbies. I liked hers, so I went along with them and did my own on my own.

I accepted when she told me she didn't like my very best friend and would never host him again in our house, for she hated the way he talked and looked and interacted with me. I didn't like this, but figured she was more important to me, and he was from the other side of Germany anyway.

I accepted when I got a pair of socks for Christmas, after I got her a new iPhone, because it's not about the monetary value of gifts and should never be. After all she needed a new phone, and I guess I needed socks.

I accepted when she told me she didn't like to visit her friends with me because she didn't like my humour and was afraid I'd embarrass her in front of them.

I accepted that she would grumble and complain whenever I asked her to bring me a soda from the fridge on her way back when she went to the kitchen or another room, or a packet of crisps or other small items. I simply learnt to always get things myself.

For two years, I kept asking her out doing things together I enjoyed - playing board games, visiting holiday parks, going together to industry events (we're both working in Games), going hiking with our dogs. She'd grumble, make some promises and then never do anything from these things.

We looked for an Appartment with garden to buy a D settle in. She decided to buy an Appartment right next to her parents, without a garden. I accepted this, because mine were in another city, a D we could afford this.

For her 40th birthday last year just before Christmas, I organized her an insanely expensive party - location, buffet, drinks, spending several months of planning and making sure everything was in her favourite colours, food she liked and music she enjoyed. For Christmas, I got a coupon for some Steam games from her - something I enjoyed more than socks, but not even wrapped.

I thought this was what I deserved. She was smart, loved animals, a good cook and a successful career that paid a bit better than mine. We could afford a decent life, and eventually this appartment would ours after the bank was paid off.

In May, I finally had the courage to break up with her. It shattered her world, and I felt so bad I nearly went back to her despite having felt stifled, imprisoned and unrecognized by her.

I didn't, because of X. The other girl. We've been chatting a lot, and she opened my eyes simply by being everything Y wasn't: Attentive, interested, actually listening to me instead of just tolerating me in her life.

She makes me sandwiches.

Such a small thing, but done with love. She decorates them with a loving precision, and that, of all things, but it brings me to tears, because I have forgotten how it feels to have someone just do something for you because they want to.

I'm still afraid to ask my partner to bring me a soda when they're passing the fridge. I'm still afraid to talk about my hobbies in annoying details, certain that no-one but me could be possibly interested in any level of detail. I'm still afraid to show weakness and emotion, unused to having someone willing to actually support me.

That's when I realized I've been in an abusive relationship. By someone making me a sandwich, which seems such a silly little thing meaning so much.