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From the first time I saw him, I knew I wanted to get to know him. I dunno what it was about him. And it just moved so fast. Everything always did with us. I just couldn't hold back around him. He brought out a side of me I loved and miss . . .but he brought out another side of me I really never liked. The extremes always came out when I was with him. I think sometimes I just let him be the one to see the "real me," something most people don't get to meet. But then, I hid a lot too. I was afraid of hurting him.
I was always a people-pleaser. Or tried to be. Trying to move away from that now and do what needs to be done, but sometimes there's a lot of ass kissing in my work. At first it was like . . .oh my gosh this guy is touching me . . . I don't know if I should be doing this . . . but it feels so good . . .
But then as time went on I felt dirty and horrible. I think deep down I knew that I was going against my own morals, doing stuff that I had always thought I would never do. But I kept going. One because I wanted to see . . . I always felt like I was on a time line with him. Not one he had set up but one that was in the stars. Yes we were engaged, but I always in the back of my mind knew there was an expiration date on our relationship.
He always made it clear that he wanted to have sex. I always made it clear I wouldn't until after I was married. But we would do things, and I would kinda forget what the reasons were and my animal instinct side would take over. It would scream, oh just let him. So I would let him push things a little farther than I normally wanted. But as soon as he would, that sensible part of me - that part that always holds me back and says - wait let's think about this first, it would kick in and then I would do one of two things. I would either loose all interest and stop or I would just mentally shut down and let him keep going - responding the way I knew he was looking for.
I remember once we were kissing and he was touching me and I was moaning and acting the part, but in my head thinking "Ok - after I leave here today I need to stop at the store and pick this and that up for school. When I get home, I need to finish that paper, so I better leave here early. Hmm he's been doing that for awhile >insert reaction here< Ok - I guess I better start finishing this up or we'll never get out of here."
That's not how it's suppose to work, is it? We would play games, where he was "almostinbutnotreallysoitdoesn'treallycountassex" After every time almost I would ask him - Am I still a virgin? Sometimes he was understanding, but I knew he was annoyed. He said that we were getting married so what difference did it make.
Our lives were so different growing up. I lived on a farm in a family with a mom and dad, grandparents and neighbors nearby, family picnics and vacations, friends at school, summer camp, etc etc. He grew up watching dad beat mom, having dad beat him, most of his family in and out of jail - drugs being done in front of him. His mom would bring men into and out of the house - he walked in on her at least once. He and his brother learned to just zone out of the bad stuff.
Does this make the way he acts now any better? No, but it makes it a little more understandable. Do I still hate how he acts sometimes? Hell yes! He could be something great right now. But he . . . he gives up. He tried so hard not to give up on me - but I couldn't handle being with him anymore.
He had lied about important things, and thought he was right. He hounded me to do things I didn't want. And when I gave in . . . I thought I let him do it each time because I wanted him to. I wanted to make him happy.
But if he had loved me as much as he said he did . . . wouldn't he have realized sooner that I was crying the first time? When he did realize it, wouldn't he have stayed in the room and comforted me instead of running away and standing outside being upset with himself? When he had me on the floor and said "Uh oh, I think I went in all he way." and I tensed . . . should he have got off me immediately instead of telling me shhh . . .it'll be ok . . . and just kept it up? Does he realize that when people here ask me about it, I can still feel him on my back, realizing I am trapped? When I went to that self defense class . . . and we had to practice a move where we laid on the floor and threw the person off . . . I couldn't do it . . not with the men at least - at the time I thought it was just because it was inside my personal space. Now I think it was too much of a reminder of those times I couldn't get away.
I bet if he could read this right now, he would have one of two reactions . . . either he would pick it apart and tell me why I am wrong on the things I wrote - or he would be upset to know he had hurt me so bad. Either way, I don't think I can show it to him ever. What would I say - here hun, this is how you ruined my life? Would I tell him, guess what - it started with you kissing me and I would remember and flashback to the pain and fear that I had the first time you shoved your dick up my ass, but now I can't move or think if I let myself fall in that hole. Now I have three that I remember. The third time the worst.
That third time, Christmas Eve - my family upstairs. Trying to be nice and let you do what you always want. And you going slow, but then when I say no you not stopping. Telling you fine tell me when it's over, you you yanking away, so angry with me. Because it was MY FAULT I WAS BEING RAPED!?!?! I remember laying there, with you on top of me, no way to move or get away and hearing you say no and thinking, This is what it's like to be raped.
Rape. After that moment, I shut it all out. He used the word that first time - but I said No, it can't be rape, because you love me. I just over reacted. The second time, I never thought about it as something bad - not until this year. But that third time. I want to forget the whole thing. And I did. I tucked it all away - every so often thinking about that first time. But once he was gone - I took it hard at first. I mean, he was the first person I was ever with in any way shape or form. I cried alot. But then I did what I do with everything. I slowly pushed it back into it's box, locked the lid shut and moved on with my life.
Then I took that self defense class. The more they talked about date rape and sexual abuse . . . I could feel those boxes opening. Stuff oozing out. Within three months, I joined a support group online. I talked to people online about what happened. But never out loud. God forbid. Someone might hear - the wrong person may find out, then he might get hurt. Still protecting him from himself.
How do I heal and get better and move past it all if I can't say it out loud? I want to walk up to him and say DO YOU KNOW WHAT YoU DID?!?! I am afraid of men, of being touched. I have flashbacks, and am on the verge of tears some days - but I don't say a word. No - Angel can't say anything to anyone. Even online - because that means I'm weak. I'm whiny. I'm not even sure some days if it is what I call it is - I was always told I'm a hypochondriac - maybe that's all this is - my imagination, me overreacting.
But I can't believe that. Something is wrong, but there's nothing I can do. Just sit and watch it fester until it kills me. I don't want that. But I don't think I have a choice.