Who really knows where to begin one’s story about their rape. I mean, where does that story REALLY begin?
I guess I’ll start with how my ex and I met. I initially met my ex (let’s call him Kai) through some mutual friends. When I first met him he was in another relationship, but by the time fall 2014 approached we were both single and in the same area.
I thought he was incredibly charming, handsome, compassionate, cool, interesting, and a wonderful host whenever my friends came around. So naturally, I was drawn to him.
Our friendship and relationship started out as collaborative. He liked some of my original musical compositions and wanted to produce them or possibly collaborate on them. We began to spend more time together as a result, and one night I decided to stay late. We hooked-up in a sexless but incredibly steamy encounter and continued seeing each other after that.
Never had I been able to vibe with someone so easily, or had I met someone so unique. In time, I found that I was in love, and I did not want our affair to end. We stayed together and did long-distance, even when I studied abroad in Europe. I was convinced that we were devoted to each other, but it was when we were doing long-distance that his manipulative behavior began.
Not only would he become very aggressive during our Skype conversations (“Stroke my ego! Make me feel like a man!” are some phrases he would shout at me), but towards the end of my trip, he threatened to cheat on me with my best friend if I didn’t take enough nude photos for him and “made him feel wanted.”
When I returned from studying abroad, the manipulation escalated to abuse. Not only did he attempt in every subtle and blatant way to undermine me, convince me I was stupid and not worthy of love or any higher achievement, but he would pick fights with me if we didn’t have sex every 6-8 hours. For some reason, I kept enduring this, hoping it could one-day revert back to the way things were.
It was not until I returned to school for my senior that my amazing community of female friends began to empower me to see that I deserved infinitely better treatment.
But I was still attached my ex at the time. I thought that the issues could be remedied if I just complied with his expectations of me. And believe me, I tried everything: cooking for him, cleaning his apartment, taking him to events. But it was not good enough for him.
One week, he began ignoring me and being cold towards me. This made me very anxious, so one day I asked to come over his house to pick-up some music from me since I was DJing a party. I began crying because I was upset about the way he was treating me.
“Calm down, you’re being hysterical,” he said, and he refused to speak to me until I showed no signs at all of being upset. “Don’t you see? I’m fucking done with you! I’m making changes in my life, and you’re toxic. Therefore, I am letting you go.”
He then said I could stay in his apartment with him if I forgot entirely what I was upset about, but when I still wanted to talk about it, he told me, “fuck you, get out.” When I stayed a moment longer, he dragged me across the floor of his apartment by my foot and put me and my things outside.
I sat there on the stairs, in shock. He opened the door again, “Are you still outside my fucking house?” and then closed it.
I went to my car, defeated. I started crying hysterically. I called all of my close friends, but no one answered. So I called Kai. He invited me back inside and said that he was “giving me one more chance.” I went inside, but he asked me to leave again when I showed signs of being upset, so I began kissing him and asked him what I could do to show him how much I loved him.
“You’ll let me cum in your ass.” Now we had anal sex many times before, but this particular time, I didn’t necessarily consent to it. My memory is a little hazy of this moment, but I was on his bed, on my stomach, and he began penetrating me vaginally. I told him that it was hurting me, but instead of allowing me to adjust my position, he’d spank me incredibly hard.
“That’s because you’re not keeping your ass high enough–hold this position or I’ll spank you even harder!” he then started penetrating my anus, and I again told him that he was hurting me. But he continued spanking me so I was forced to hold this position. He was using my pain for his pleasure.
After he came, he told me that I “like being a punching bag” because I “enjoy the drama”. He actually called what he did to me “borderline rape”. I told him that I actually hated getting into conflicts with him. “Then why was your pussy so wet and your ass so ready?” he asked me with a sinister smile on his face.
At this point, a month and half later, I am beginning to realize the emotional impacts of the monstrous things he’s done. Luckily, being with a man like him proved to me that I am fucking invincible–I know just how much shit I can take and not break down. My hope is that horrible misogynists like him eventually feel the consequences of their actions.