Bethany’s Story: He Loves Me, So It Can’t Be Rape

I really do apologize, because my story is going to come off as an interpersonal violence story. I don’t feel like my story belongs on either platform, but I am most comfortable sharing here. When I was 17 I started dating this dreamy boy that was so caring, so compassionate, so loving. At one point I remember tweeting “I wish I could find a man like (enter name) for every one of my friends because they deserve a man like him”. Somewhere along the way he started to change. I never let go of him because I loved him and refused to give up on someone I cared so much about. I was his first kiss. He was my first involving any type of sexual act. On the night before Thanksgiving 3 years ago, I got a call from my drunk boyfriend sobbing and begging for my forgiveness. He had gotten drunk at a party and had sex with some girl from his high school. I answered him in a flat tone and told him to find his friends and find a safe place to sleep. Everything else could wait until tomorrow. I was devastated, but it was not in my nature to show it right off the bat. I don’t know why, but I always remain very calm in awful situations.. it scares me a bit. A few days later, he asked me to come over to talk about what happened. He wanted a chance to salvage our relationship if it was at all possible. I remember picking a day that I had to be at work, that way our time was limited and he couldn’t spend all day crying and begging. I honestly cannot remember much of the conversation. Somehow consoling me turned into hugging, hugging turned into a weird crying cuddle, and the cuddle led to him getting on top of me. I was devastated that he had sex with someone else. I was devastated that the man I wanted to marry now has a body count of 2. I was devastated that we started out just the two of us and he ruined it. I blamed him for what he did, but I destroyed myself by asking what I could have done to have kept his attention on me. Eventually he started to kiss me. When I turned my face away he started to kiss my neck. I just cried. I continuously turned from him, but he wouldn’t stop. I remember him trying to reach around me to unhook my bra under my shirt and all I could do is push myself into the bed to make it harder of him to accomplish and easier for him to understand that I didn’t want to. He persisted and unhooked my bra. Not to long later he took off my shirt even though I pinned myself to the bed and broadened my shoulders so he couldn’t get it off. He still managed it. He took the next half hour or so to prove to me, sexually, how much he wanted me. The whole time I laid there still, staring at the wall, and crying. All the while he was wiping the tears from my face telling me “Its going to be okay, It will all be okay”. I didn’t even feel like I was present. All I could think about was facing my friends and family and just feeling empty. I was never going to be the same. I was never going to feel the same. I no longer had any control of my life. When he was done he just left me in the bed while he showered. I quickly got up and put my clothes on, inspected my makeup and hair in hopes that no one at work would ask any questions. I left for work. Sometime that same day he texted me and apologized and admitted that he had basically raped me. I was still so lost that I told him that he didn’t rape me. I still don’t know why I said that. This occurrence made me hate myself. I was known as a tough girl. Someone who wouldn’t take crap from anyone. I had boys from my high school trained. They would cat call other girls or touch them inappropriately, but they wouldn’t dare do it to me, not more than once. I was not afraid to call someone out and shame them and I wasn’t afraid to swing at a guy if I had to. I had a reputation that kept me safe. But in that moment, when I needed it the most, it was all gone. I had no fight in me and I wouldn’t get fight back in me until years later, at least not with him. Our relationship lasted three more years. The relationship just got worse, but I wouldn’t let him go because I was so damaged that I believed no one else would want me.. so I clung to him. He was awful to me. Google emotional abuse and he would fit literally every classification. He constantly accused me of cheating. Every accomplishment I made was only because I “was giving the professor head” or “having sex with my boss”. He would get mad at me and punish me with unpleasurable sex. I would open my eyes and he would just be glaring at me, his eyes full of hatred. Once he force me down on the floor so hard I woke up the next morning with swelling on my right side, just under my breast. He had bruised my ribs. One time, in an attempt to make things better between us, we got a hotel room just so we could be alone to talk and spend quality time together. I told him in every way possible that I was not going to have sex with him. It wasn’t long after we got to the hotel that he was on top of me. When I would avoid his kisses he would pin me down. When I focused my energy on trying to force myself up he would kiss me again. I finally got away from him and locked myself in the bathroom. He screamed at me to unlock it. When I didn’t he kicked the door in and began apologizing. He got me drunk and raped me. When I finally decided that I was going to leave him and find someone that actually cared for me he told me he was on his way to my house at college to “Fuck you so good that it will be the best you’ll ever have”. I left my house and sat in a parking lot with my dog for hours terrified to go home (he had threatened to kill my dog too). Sadly, these are only a handful of scarring encounters that I had with him. I have been free of him for 8 months now.. and I still can’t find anyone I am interested in. I am so indifferent about dating. A guy can just say the wrong thing and I’ll drop him. I can’t form that connection. I did manage to like a guy enough to have sex with him, but it was too physically painful to enjoy, and the fact that sex hurt me scared him away. I have never told anyone. For one I couldn’t tell my family because they still think I’m a virgin. I never told my friends because I knew how stupid I was for staying with him. It’s extremely embarrassing. In the beginning, I stated that I didn’t feel like my story belonged on an IPV platform. That’s because he never hit me. Women who have experienced physical IPV have suffered way more than I ever had. I also stated that I don’t really feel like I belong on this site either. That’s because I wasn’t violently raped. I wasn’t attacked by a stranger. I didn’t have a rape kit done. I didn’t suffer through the court system. I have always felt sorrow for anyone who suffered these things, but I didn’t belong to that group because my rapist loved me… and I loved him.