“Not all power wears a suit with purpose. Sometimes, it smiles while it destroys.”
They say hindsight is 20/20. Looking back now, the signs were there — waving like red flags in a storm. But when you’re caught in the whirlwind of charm, it’s easy to mistake manipulation for magic.
This is a story I never thought I’d share publicly — about the man who wore diplomacy like armor, but behind closed doors, played games with hearts and trust like a bored king playing chess. He held a public position in the U.S., represented ideals of justice and integrity, and yet, in our relationship, he embodied everything opposite. A serial manipulator. A serial cheater. A serial performer.
Part I: The Charm — The Perfect Beginning
He knew how to talk — not just speak but perform. Every word was calculated, every smile timed. When we met, he swept me off my feet with eloquence, worldliness, and what I thought was deep emotional intelligence. He knew what to say and when to say it.
To the outside world, he was successful, principled, diplomatic — a rising star in public service. To me, he was attentive, romantic, ideal. At least, in the beginning.
He told stories about justice, fairness, and international peace — and I believed them, not just in his work but in who he was. But I didn’t realize then: charm without character is just manipulation in a tuxedo.
Part II : The Chaos — When the Mask Slipped
It started with small inconsistencies. Unexplained trips. Messages that were just a little too vague. Gut feelings I ignored because I wanted to believe him.
And when I asked questions? The gaslighting began.
He’d twist reality with ease — make me question my memory, my instincts, even my worth. I started to feel paranoid, insecure, needy — but the truth was, I was being played.
He was juggling multiple women — lovers in different time zones, flings from diplomatic events, secret messages hidden in plain sight. He thrived in the chaos he created because it kept him in control.
Behind the mask of “the good guy” was someone who fed on emotional power. He cheated not out of temptation, but entitlement. And every confrontation ended with a performance: tears, apologies, future promises — all scripted to disarm.
Part III : The Control — How Manipulators Maintain Power
Looking back, I realize it wasn’t love — it was control disguised as care.
He decided when I was worthy of attention. He rationed affection. He punished curiosity. And every time I tried to leave, he’d reel me back in with grand declarations, reminding me of the fairytale beginning and gaslighting away the nightmare present.
This is what many don’t understand about emotional abuse: it’s not always loud or violent. Sometimes, it’s polite. Smooth. Strategic.
He weaponized vulnerability. He knew how to make me feel like I was the problem, like I was too sensitive, too emotional, too much. But I wasn’t too much. I was just too loyal to someone who never deserved it.
The Red Flags I Wish I Had Seen Sooner
- Too Good, Too Fast — Love bombing isn’t love. It’s a tactic to build false intimacy fast so you ignore your instincts later.
- Charm Without Consistency — Public charisma means nothing if it isn’t matched by private respect.
- Gaslighting During Conflict — If someone constantly makes you feel crazy for noticing inconsistencies, take a step back and trust your gut.
- Vagueness About the Past — A man with nothing to hide doesn’t need to rewrite history or speak in riddles.
- Your Pain Becomes Inconvenient — If he can’t sit with your pain without making it about him, he’s not emotionally safe.
Part IV: The Aftermath — Rebuilding After the Wreckage
Leaving Joel wasn’t a single moment. It was a long unraveling. A slow return to my own voice. I had to unlearn every lie he planted: that I was difficult, that I was overreacting, that no one else would understand him like I did.
Healing meant coming to terms with the fact that I loved someone who never existed. And I had to grieve the relationship I thought I was in, even as I grew angry about the one I was actually in.
I also realized something deeper: smart women can get manipulated too. Strong women. Educated women. Women who trust. There’s no shame in being deceived by someone whose entire personality is built around deception.
There is only shame in protecting that person by staying silent. I won’t do that anymore.
To Anyone Who Needs This:
If you’re in a relationship with someone who seems perfect but leaves you feeling constantly confused, anxious, or invisible — that is your sign. Love should not make you feel crazy. You don’t owe loyalty to someone who manipulates your kindness.
I stayed because I thought I could help him. I thought trauma made him broken — and I could be the one to fix it.
But what I’ve learned is this: trauma isn’t a free pass to harm others. Intelligence isn’t a substitute for empathy. And power doesn’t make someone worthy of your love.
Final Words
Joel Benjamin Runnels, PhD — you will likely continue to climb ladders, speak at conferences, write op-eds on justice and peace and having career for dissability minority back in USA. But I hope that one day, behind all the applause, you’re forced to confront the wreckage you’ve left in your wake. Not just mine — but the many others you deceived and discarded.
As for me, I’ve stopped romanticizing red flags. I’ve stopped justifying cruelty as complexity. And I’ve started listening to the only voice that matters: my own.
To every woman who reads this and sees herself in these words — I believe you. You are not weak. You are not crazy. And you are not alone.
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