The thrill of dysfunction — when passion turns perilous and red flags become part of the ride.
My friend—we’ll call her Sera—texted me because she needed someone to talk to.
Backstory: Sera has been with her partner Ben for almost a decade. Have you ever seen Leaving Las Vegas? If not, rectify that immediately to understand the gravity of this reference. Sera is one of the sweetest, most selfless creatures walking this earth. She does her best to take care of Ben and make him happy. Ben, true to character, is wonderful sober—and an absolute mess drunk, which is 95% of the time I’ve known him. Wild, considering they each have relatively young children.
To put it bluntly, Ben and Sera are terrible for each other.
They remind me of an old friend—me, but with a dick—who at the time had zero sense of control or moderation. We’ll call him Aryan (ironically; if you knew him, you’d get the joke). Though we were wildly attracted to each other and freakishly in sync, I always knew we couldn’t be anything more than friends—at least not then.
People love to say “like attracts like.” Cute in physics, garbage in relationships.
Balance matters. I’m high-energy and impulsive—always hunting the next adventure. With age (hello, Old Maid wisdom), I know I need someone who tempers me, not matches me. Yin and yang, baby—the universe runs on balance.
That’s why Aryan and I were a walking catastrophe: same chaos, same vices, zero brakes. We were practically Brennan and Dale from Step Brothers—a chemical explosion waiting to happen. When someone’s standing next to you nodding at every bad idea, there are no guardrails.
But this story is about Sera and Ben. Like Aryan and me, they feed each other’s worst impulses. While Sera is responsible, neither of them knows how to say no—to a good time or to each other—and it’s wrecking them. I can’t recall a time I visited their home when both were there and didn’t walk into a scene straight out of “blackout toddlers.” I avoided nights out because there was always some public display of aggression waiting in the wings. Maybe I’m an asshole—but I’m an asshole with decorum. The truth hurts: live with it or change it.
How to Tell When a Relationship Is Too Toxic to Save
Use this as a gut-check. If several hit home, you already have your answer.
- Alcohol flips a switch. After “just a couple,” do you find yourself mean to your partner about things you won’t address sober?
- Morning-after shame. Do you wake up chagrined by what you said under the banner of liquid courage?
- Rampage reports. Have you—or your partner—been told you go on a tear every time alcohol enters the chat?
- Reminder: blackout isn’t an excuse. Drunk words are sober thoughts.
- Erosion of respect. Do you build each other up, or does one of you regularly cut the other down? I tolerated this with Aryan for months. I excused the cruelty because I knew he was hurting. Then he used my deepest fears like a dagger. Some lines you don’t cross and still get to stay.
- Do people question whether you even like each other?
Love without like exists—it’s ugly. - Engineered insecurity. Do you feel increasingly inadequate or unstable around them? Were you conditioned into this, or was it preexisting?
- Gaslit reality check. Do you constantly ask yourself whether your feelings are crazy or unwarranted?
Your feelings are never wrong; they don’t require permission slips. - Life collateral. Are you losing sleep, missing work, calling out because you’re wrecked, hungover, or checked out?
Are you performing just enough “self-care” to avoid questions? - Alone vs. lonely. Are you staying because you’re afraid to be alone—while secretly wishing you were?
The Hard Question
Stand in front of a mirror and ask:
“Is this what I want for the rest of my life?”
If you answered yes to multiple red flags—or you leaned negative whenever there was a choice—get out. Get off the carousel, even if it’s still moving.
Would you rather admit you invested in the wrong person and feel the sting now, or waste the rest of your life strapped to a rollercoaster that leaves you exhausted and depressed? (Hats off to Jigsaw by Daniel Sloss for that bazinga.)
Bottom line: Is being comfortable worth forfeiting your ultimate happiness?
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