Not For Me
Marriage is an interesting social expectation. While an exceptionally long time ago marriage was not about love, today it is assumed that it is, mostly. I had never wanted to marry unless I knew for certain that the person was “the” person for me.
However, my boyfriend and I had been together on and off for eight years. This topped off with him asking me every single day for over a year. I thought about my options and figured it was the next step and might as well see where it goes.
For a long time I had this feeling deep within me that I ignored, suppressed and paid no attention to. It was this heavy undercurrent of dread, though as I did not let it surface, I really did not know what this was about. When we got married a lot of it was pretence on my part. It was a small get together and really, I didn’t care. I did what was expected of me, smiled, pretended to be all excited. The fact was that I wasn’t. I felt obligated to marry him. I knew I loved him, but the reality was I had not been in love with him for sometime. I simply ignored that fact. When we got home after the day, tired he wanted to do what most newly weds do on their wedding night, but a part of me felt extremely resistant and said I was just really tired. So not much happened. For some time I struggled being intimate with him. He put it down to past sexual abuse that was hindering me. However, while I was in denial at the time due to the ramifications, the fact was I did not have any past sexual abuse issues, simply I did not find him attractive. He was everything I didn’t like in a man. So, why marry - the naive hope that at least one of his promises may come to fruition. They never did. During my time of denial that spanned a number of years as the marriage became worse and worse, there was a moment in time that solidified the fact that I did not want him to touch me ever again. The thought of kissing him repulsed me and his constant groping of me made my skin crawl. However, I skip too far ahead. We had moved next door and it was the same as where we were expect everything was on the opposite side. I didn’t want to move, however, everything had been arranged so I went with it. I had been working long hours at the time so figured it would be okay. It was around this time that my husband discovered the joys of ice. Ice is a drug that is like a combination of ecstasy, speed plus a few others and lasted much longer than cocaine. My husband was a regular user of cocaine so this was a much cheaper and more economical option given it was a third of the cost. It was around the easter holiday where I had a few days off that he decided we should have a bender. I did not want to. I was happy to have a glass of wine and let him do this thing. But he would not let up. He was at me again and again. Knowing that if I didn’t concede he would become aggressive and on any drugs this was him yelling at me for hours and hours. Sometimes it would result in something of mine being broken or my dog being blamed. I always feared he would hurt her. So, I took some ice as well. Naturally I am extremely sensitive to drugs and medication for that matter. It did not take much for me to be off with the fairies so to speak. It was like I was separate from my body and couldn’t do much else. I had thought that since I did this he would be happy and we would just talk. In other words he would rehash the same story about his terrible boss over and over again. However, this is not what happened. He decided that he wanted to do things to me sexually. This went on for seven hours. By this stage I felt myself drift off, like I was literally not there while he did what he wanted to my body. It eventually resulted in sex and still I couldn’t remain conscious. I was fading in and out during this time. Then when approaching the eighth hour he stopped and left me alone. He put my lack of participation to no fault of his own. He believed he had me orgasm for the whole duration however, I didn’t even have one. I couldn’t. I felt off at the time. But given how high I was didn’t realise why. I didn’t think much of it but felt yuck, heavy, weird, not right. I had this feeing for months after and refused for him to touch me. I came up with every excuse I could never really considering why. I didn’t tell anyone about this, not that I had anyone to tell. Twelve months later the marriage went from worse to horrific and to the point that my life was in danger. I knew if I did not get out soon I would be leaving in a body bag. It was then that I sort help with an online chat and it was then that they informed me that for one, forced or non-consensual sex during marriage is illegal, something I had not even known and secondly, that horrible feeling I had that I couldn’t shake and still had was because I was date raped or better termed sexually assaulted. It was odd to realise this had been done to me by a person I had trusted for so long with everything that was me and my life. Slowly but surely I saw him destroy my life, my work and me. I left not long after with my dog and my belongings. I never regretted leaving, I regretted not leaving sooner, though unfortunately I was unable to. What I felt for a long time after was this incredible shame because I should have stopped him doing what he did to me, despite the fact that if I didn’t let him do that I was have been harmed in another way. I bottled this up until a couple of years later when I was ready to let it go and let go of the PTSD I had around that event completely consuming me. Unfortunately it wasn’t the only time, but it was the tipping point for my repulsion and hate for him. The healing process took a long, long time and now the shame is gone. The facts only remain. He was a rapist within the relationship. I don’t think I will marry again any time soon… Based on a true story.