Thursday, December 6, 2012

ex-douchebag

It wasn't until the last few days that being without him sounded better than being with him.  That's why I stayed as long as I did.  Because every time he did something horrible, I would think about leaving, and I would feel terrified by that and I would think that I could make it through this and he would get better and then we could live happily ever after, but if I left now I could never have that happily ever after.  So maybe you'll say it's my fault.

It wasn't this bad the whole time.
But for a time at the end, for a few months I guess, whenever I stayed at his apartment, and I would sleep on the couch or in my bed in the other bedroom, I would get about 4 hours of sleep and then I would be woken up by him getting on top of me.  And he would have this look on his face, his "I don't give a shit about you, you are not a person, you are just a 'cum-receptical'" look, and I knew I couldn't just deny him because then he'd yell at me, maybe push me around, and probably break up with me.  I wanted him to stop doing this stuff, because in the in-between times (which was most of the time) it seemed to me that our relationship was really good, and I wanted it to be like that all the time, and I didn't want to lose that.  Anyway, the first time it happened, I was sleeping on the couch, and I woke up to him shoving his penis in my mouth and then demanding that I "suck it" even though my head was hurting because I hadn't slept enough.  I ended up crying, and he looked at my tears with this disgusting look on his face that said that he loved the fact that he made me cry.  I saw that look more times than I can remember.  He told me explicitly that he was turned on by making me cry.
After the first couple of times of him doing this, it got to where as soon as I felt him in the room, I would wake up and jump up and try to get away, but he would push me down and talk in that "stern" voice that's like the tone of yelling without being a higher volume.

There was one time when I was sleeping in my bed, and he came in and got in bed next to me, and I got scared and then he pretended to be all offended because he was "just" coming to cuddle with me.  As if I could know that.  But then of course it turned out that he was coming to "cuddle" because he wanted to have sex and he was trying to "get me in the mood" first, for which he patted himself on the back, isn't it so much better than what he used to do, I should be happy.

He was usually wanting to do horrible things that I didn't want to do, but because I was terrified of being without him, I would end up saying ok to certain things, and he would always do more than what I agreed to.  Sometimes he would claim that what he did technically fit within what I agreed to, even though he knew full well that it was not what I had in mind, letter vs spirit.  Other times he would say that he just had to do that because he had to "come".

The last day, I was living with him, and he came home from work, and I was watching icarly, and he said "will you give me a lapdance" and I didn't feel like doing that, I would never feel like doing that, but I thought I could do it anyway and still watch tv, but that didn't "please" him, so I paused the tv, but then he also turned it off, and I knew from experience that his shit would go on so long that the tv would unpause, because his version of directv only pauses live tv for 2 hours, so I was mad that he was basically saying I had to miss a show I wanted to watch so that he could use me as a "cum receptical", and I had decided the day before that I was going to tell him I wasn't going to do this bullshit anymore, but I had wanted to wait till "a good time" to do it, so I hadn't told him last night because he was tired, and I hadn't told him when he got home from work because he was tired from work, and I couldn't tell him now because he was horny, so I thought maybe this will be the last time but as I started to put his disgusting penis in my mouth as he had demanded, I thought no I can't do this again, and he said "do it now or I'm breaking up with  you," and I sat back and looked up at him and he said ok pack your shit.  He later spoke of this as me breaking up with him.

I still felt sad about the idea of never talking to him again, so when he started texting me 6 days later, saying how sad he was, I said I wanted to be friends with him.  So he came over to my house, and then he started saying how he couldn't be around me and not touch me, he couldn't just be friends.  So I started having sex with him again even though I didn't want to.  It wasn't bad stuff like before, but I didn't enjoy it at all.  That happened about 3 times I think, and then I moved away to go to college again.  He was talking about visiting me and talking about having sex and talking about paying me for it, and then I told him I didn't want him to come visit me, that I was dreading it, that I didn't want to do any of that since he kicked me out of his apartment, that he was basically a monster in my life, and he pretended to be shocked, that he thought I was always consenting, that he had no idea I felt coerced.  Apparently just being in his apartment he considered consent for him to push me down on the couch and shove his penis in my face and call me a "cum receptical" which was one of his favorite terms.  He would always say after he "finished" that he didn't really mean any of it, that he just said it so he could orgasm.  But that didn't take away the horror I felt from actually doing those things or from hearing those words.

This is such a ramble, I'm not writing in any kind of logical order.

I've been thinking about it and I don't think that rape is the right word for most of this.  There were 3 times when he unequivocably raped me, 3 times when I said no and he pushed me down and forced his penis in.  And that was bad, but it wasn't the worst.  Much worse were all the times he nagged and bullied me until I said ok.  I don't know, actually.

The first time was maybe a misunderstanding.  Or something.  It was in the first, like, week of the relationship.  He was shoving his penis in and out of me, and it was hurting so I told him to stop.  He stopped and we both sat up.  I was breathing heavily as the pain subsided.  He said, "Are you ok?"  I said, "Yeah,"  He said, "OK," and pushed me down and I said, "No-- wait-- what are you doing--" and then I just stayed quiet after that because I thought he must have thought when I said I was ok that I meant it was ok for him to start again.  Then after about 30 seconds he stopped again.  I told him I didn't want to do it anymore and he said ok, and I said "you technically just raped me," and he got all indignant and said, "No I didn't!  You told me to stop and I stopped!"  I started to describe to him what had just happened, and he said, "So it took me a few seconds to stop, I still stopped."  But that's not what happened.  I said "no" as he was pushing me down, he didn't have his penis inside me yet at that point... so I guess then it depends on what counts as "having started".  I suppose he'd claim he already had momentum and just couldn't brake quickly enough so his penis had to go in and out of me about 50 times before he was able to stop.  I think that's bullshit.  So I don't think it was really a misunderstanding.  I think it was just that he thought he could get away with it.

The 2nd and 3rd times were on consecutive days.  We were in bed, naked, because he wanted to have sex.  But I said I didn't want to do it right then.  I didn't really want to do it at all, but I was trying to psyche myself up to the point where I could deal with it, to appease him, and I just wasn't ready yet, like not being quite ready for the doctor to stick the needle in when you're getting a shot, or something.  But he didn't want to wait, I guess, so he pushed me down, and at first I said "no" but then I knew that it wouldn't do any good, so I laid there and I let my eyes unfocus and I tried to ignore the pain, and he ejaculated inside me, and then he acted like he did nothing wrong.  I think he said thank you.  The 3rd time, I didn't even bother saying no, he just pushed me down and as soon as I realized what he was doing, I went away in my imagination, to a place of nothing.

But then there were all the times I said ok, when I didn't want to do it, and he knew it.  There was at least one time, I can remember, that I said "yes".  I don't think I ever meant yes, but I think it's excusable for him not to know that yes didn't mean yes.  And even some of the times when I said ok, it was probably excusable for him not to know that I didn't want to do it, but many times he must have known, and he didn't care.  He just wanted to do whatever he could get away with.  There were many times he spent hours nagging and bullying me before I said "ok" and I said I was concerned that it was dangerous and he said, "Who cares?" again and again.  That was horrible, and I knew I should leave, but I was scared to leave.  There was even one time before the end that I broke up with him, but then he acted all sorry and I got back together with him.  And there was another time before that that he broke up with me and then begged me to take him back and I did.  After every break-up and get-back-together, it was always better for a while.

The worst of it would be the memories of the physical pain.  After that the awkwardness, maybe a kind of shame, at some of the things he demanded.  Yes, I was ashamed, I was ashamed that I was doing it, that I was giving in to him.  For certain things.  But the worst is not the memory of the pain, the worst is the pain I still have.  It's less now, but still there, and occasionally there will be a burst of more, like I am being stabbed inside.  hate hate hate.  hate myself.

There was also all this stuff he said to me... but it would go back and forth.  One minute he was saying how great I was, the next he was saying that I was too fat, that my teeth were ugly, that my hair was stupid, that he had to do that because I looked like a boy, that i wasn't good enough for him, that he would break up with me if he could find someone better, that i owed him all this sex, that i should be his slave because he had a job and i didn't.  He showed pictures and said they were better than me, he called me slave, he made me say those things, he tried to ruin everything in my life by connecting it to his dominance.  He said phoebe tonkin was better than me and wanted me to think about how she was better than me every time i watched h2o or the secret circle, which she is in.  I hated that stuff, I hated what he said, even though he said that it was just to "help [him] come", except that he was serious about me not being skinny enough, he made a list of everything i must change, i must let my hair grow a certain length, i must lose weight on this schedule, i must dress to his desire, i must get my teeth fixed.  Again and again he mentioned these things.  He said that he did stuff for me, since he made all the money, did all the driving, therefore I should do those things he demanded, things I haven't even mentioned here too awful.  But he didn't really do that much for me.  Taking me to wal-mart?  Walking with me in the park?  And for that I must play your slave every day?  And be in physical pain and risk permanent injury?  Who cares, he said.  So what, he said.  He didn't care about my pain, my life.

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