What my ex did to me that I wished i had told someone

What my ex did to me that I wished i had told someone

A #SurvivorStory by Nola

I met him and thought he was wonderful. He always listened to me and cared about me and what I thought about things. We were just texting at first and became very comfortable with each other. Talking to each other about everything and anything. It got to the point where we were both attracted to each other. We started talking about sexual fantasies. We were both interested in a threesome with 2 girls and 1 guy. He had a friend who was also interest in this. The 3 of us talked and decided to get together and see if that was something we could do. First it was just him and I. We started drinking some mixed drinks. She showed up and wanted to do shots, he did not. So I had my mixed drink and was doing shots with her. I drank way too much, but we were all having fun. He left the room and she made her move on me, I liked it. He came back and joined in. I dont remember much of that night but it was fun. That’s the night he decided he loved me. Him and I kept seeing each other, pretty much drinking talking and fucking. It started small. He liked to bite me. I usually like that. But he would bite me as hard as he could. And it hurt. I would tell him to be more gentle or to stop, try to push him away. He wouldn’t stop, he ‘couldn’t help it, I was too sexy’. I told him to just not do it then. But he still would and nothing I said or did mattered. I always went home covered in giant bruises that took days or weeks to heal. But I figured I could live with that, I finally found a guy who would listen to me and I thought he really cared about me, I just got carried away. So I kept seeing him, he asked me to be his girlfriend and I said yes. A few days later he wanted me to move in, I was very hesitant (it had only been a few months) but after a few months more he wore me down and I moved in with him. That’s when i realized how much he drank (we usually drank when together but that was usually 2 nights a week). He drank a lot every night. And wanted me to drink with him always. I tried not to. But he was so annoying when he was drunk and i wasn’t, so I usually did just to make it bearable.

The first time. We went to bed to have sex. I wanted to have sex with him that night. He asked me if I would be okay with anal. I said no. He didn’t care. He just went for it anyway. No lubrication or anything. I forced him off of me. But not before he penetrated me and ripped me. I still have a little piece that was torn that probably should be inside of me but based on the amount of time will probably never be okay. A constant physical reminder of that night. The night I wanted sex, not anal. But got that anyway. I should have known then. I should have left then.

But if that were the one and only time I could live with that. That’s not terrible. I’d be okay. I could live with that, or so I thought at the time.

But it wasn’t the only time.

Far from it.

The second (that I know of). I woke up in the morning with my shirt still on but just that. Down below I was naked and a mess. I always clean myself up. I will sleep naked except for underwear. I like at least having those on while I sleep. But I just thought that maybe I was really drunk the night before (I wasn’t but I can always lie to myself). If that were the only time I could forgive him. Honestly there was a chance that I really just didn’t remember.

If that were the only time.

But then that happened again. And again. And again. Always after a night when I said I was tired and would rather sleep.. and to be honest he did not give one fuck about my pleasure at all, it didn’t matter if I wanted it or not. It happened. It was easier to go along with it than say anything. If I said anything it was always my fault. He would’nt even bother to turn me on or lubricate me in some other manner beforehand. Ever. It hurt. But for some dumbass fucking reason I was still a ‘willing ‘ participant

But then there were more and more nights that I woke up half naked. I know my body very well. I know when someone has fucked me. Which usually I wouldn’t need to rely on my body to know. I should fucking know! When I asked he knew nothing about it? Bitch wtf. He knew everything.

Letting him know that I knew something was going on was a bad idea.

He changed tactics.

Just convinced me to drink more than I should. Unfortunately that’s an easy thing to do.

Then he would just wait until i was super fucking wasted and couldn’t do anything about it. No matter what I said. That happened a lot more than I would ever like to admit. I could have been so much stronger and I wasn’t.

I wish I had been.

I wish I had said something to someone.

He would threaten me. ‘If I dont fuck you I wont be able to sleep and then we/you(depending on if he was working or not) wont be able to go to work tomorrow. ‘

So sometimes I would let him. Even if I knew it hurt me. I would rather be able to pay my bills than be happy.

Or so I told myself.

I’ve always been able to take care of myself, sexually. So at the beginning when he didn’t care about me at all I figured I could live with it. But I learned that you can’t really have any satisfaction when you’re dry and torn up and can’t think about anything else. I just wished I was smarter. I thought I was smarter. I never thought I would be the girl that would let someone do this to them. Not once, but repeatedly.

I just wanted to be loved. And he claimed to love me more than anything. If I ever brought any of this up somehow it was my fault.

It is my fault that I let it go on for so long.

But it was not my fault that he thought that what he was doing was okay. I had told him, for over a year (fuck I was dumb), that it wasn’t okay.

He said he wanted to have kids with me, soon after this all started. My dumbass decided that was okay. Until the one and only time in my life that I was pregnant. Thank god or whomever that I wasn’t.

Then I started taking birth control again. And hid it from him.

But then he just got mad that I wasn’t pregnant. And he would try even more.

I don’t know how many times he did this to me when I was asleep or too drunk to do anything about it.

Once should have been more than enough for me to leave. But I didn’t. And that is my fault. I should have listened to myself and my gut and left long before I did.

But now I know better at least and won’t let it happen to me again.

I am better than that.

I will never let him touch me again. At all. No matter what. He does not have the right to. This is my body and no one I am not comfortable with touching me ever will again. No matter what I have to do.


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