I can't bloody sleep. I just got my meds today, and I'm still sick. On top of that, I couldn't sleep, so I decided to go through my wallet and clean out my purse. I found my ex's picture. I only saw a brief glimpse of his face, but the emotions came crashing down on me, and I tried to forget them by answering e-mails and comments, but it just won't leave me alone.
I wonder often times if the first time I was raped effected me so much that I caused the second time, years later, to happen. But then start to think about the things he said...
Things like the Ex didn't deserve me. How could I be wasted on him? How long he'd been waiting to be recognized by me. Seven years. And I was wasted on his asexual best friend. That he should save me from my ex's ex's fate, the way he saved her. I totally didn't grasp that concept.
That after he had broken me, my Ex wouldn't want me anymore, that he'd leave me. I had total belief in my ex, and knew in my Heart of Hearts the Amor Vincis Omnis; Love Conquers All. That whatever I did here, to protect myself, to get out of the situation alive and as unharmed as possible, would be alright. He'd still love me.
Through all of that I sat still, didn't do anything, just tried to reign in my heart beat, asked him questions, established that I didn't want to have sex with him. Felt him come on to me, felt him kiss me, fondle me. Undress me. I was just mute. The flashbacks started to creep through my brain, little snippets of His voice, the sort of pian He inflicted. There was a point where he tried to penetrate me, and I shook so hard and froze up. I started to have full out flashbacks. It all became so muddled, half him, half the Other. I snapped then. I asked him to come closer, and I wanted to throttle him, to hurt him for betraying my trust the way he did, hurt him the way I had never been able to hurt The Other. I was fully prepared to knock him unconscious and run half naked for help when he said he was going to come inside me. The flashbacks came even harder.
Disgusted, I fought harder and pushed him out and off. I said I couldn't I said that that belonged to my ex. He told me I drew funny lines. I told him that there's the line, and I'd rather die than cross it.
He must have known I was serious, because just forced my head to his lap and told me how to suck him off. When he was finished he told me that I "took direction well". Then he took me to breakfast, and over it I actually thanked the bastard for putting my love to the test, and showing what a true friend he really was. I finished off by telling him that I reall y loved my ex, and he got nervous and told me that maybe "we" shouldn't tell my ex about it. I smiled and said, "Of course." I finished my egg and coffee and went home.
My parents were waiting and I threw myself on the bed to cry and disappear for hours into the soft comfort of my bed which still smelled like my love from a few nights before. I curled up with anything I had that came from him. His sweater, some of his books, his love letters, and I waited for him to get off work.
I called him, and he was upset with me for how I had talked to him the night before, when he couldn't come out, and how I heckled him for numbers of other guys so I could have people for my single female friends to hang out with. I told him I had something to tell him, and I started crying about how he would leave me.
He rushed over, and I asked, "Who is the one person you trust most in the world besides me. Who would be your best man?" He replied simple, "My Best Firend, X."
I sobbed out that X had made me give him oral sex and instead of holding me like I expected, he went ice cold. The first thing he said to me was, "So a warm cock is better than my love?" I cried even harder. X was right. He was going to turn on me the way he had expected.
I tried to tell him everything, and it dawned on me when he asked, "so did he rape you?" I didn't know. Was that rape? Is that after telling him no, then in a fit of pique asking him to come closer so I could injure him still rape? I decided on no. I told him that no I couldn't have been raped, because, I quote,:
Who could be dumb enough to get raped in the same way twice in one lifetime?
He told me that my definition of rape was that I was either dead or it hadn't happened. We struggled in my room for hours, during which he gave me his virginity. It was the only time in our whole relationship that we had sex. I had never willingly let a man come inside me before, and this was a first. No protection, no pulling out.
For the first time in my life it was a spiritual experience.
I told my parents what had happened, and my mother was heartbroken. She had let me out of the house with X that morning, to go get breakfast after cleaning up the party. My mother insisted that I take the pill. the Ex insisted I didn't.
Then he told me he needed seven days to think it over. An entire week, where I wasn't supposed to contact him, so he could sort out his feelings.
I agreed, but later that night slowly I realized that no matter what, I had established, quotably, that I didn't want to have sexual relations of any kind with X. I was venting on my LJ, and a post he wasn't supposed to see slipped through. He saw it, and I slept at the Ex's house that night, on a pallet in the computer room. He told his parents that I had cheated on him, and his brother reinforced his poor judgement of me, saying he didn't like who I'd become since he'd last saw me. All this while I slept. In the morning, they wouldn't even look at me.
He went to a web site and looked up simptoms of rape victims, and from his research decided that whether I wanted to admit it or not, I had been acquaintence raped. He was fully in my corner, his family swung around to support me, and he took me home to get my parents and take me to the hospital.
I, in my stupidity, thought the morning after pill was a game of percentages. I thought I could appear to takeone of the pills in front of my mother, and one of the pills in the hospital, outside the time frame given, and it wouldn't hurt the chance of sustaining any life inside of me. Apparently I was wrong.
After the whole ordeal at the hospital, him going on about how brave I was, and being so kind to me, holding my hand and loving me, I went home to sleep and start the week fresh. Then he talked to X.
I was terribly afraid that X would make him turn on me, so I urged him not to talk to him. He did, against my wishes, and began to doubt me. He turned around immediatly and apologized profusely when he picked me up from work the next evening.
The next day, I got a message from him on the phone, saying he wanted me to meet him and X for coffee, to iron things out, and get things straight. He thought both of us were lying, and he wanted to put the puzzle together with all the facts in front of him.
I called him back to hear him out, see if he was for real, and when it was apparent that he was, I ended the relationship. Later that evening, I tried to take my life, and I sent him a text message asking him to come say goodbye.
He never came, but he did call to talk the knife out of my hand, saying, "If you go through with this, I'll never be with you again!" I sobbed him a goodbye, told him he didn't deserve me, and asked him one final question; Why didn't he believe me? Why was I suddenly a liar of such enormous proportion?
The answer: He went to Plan B's website. Apparently , my plan with the pill wasn't so smart. The lethal dosages were in the first pill, not, as I suspected, the second. He took this to be lying about the Morning after pill.
I immediately began to weep profusely at the thought that I could have desecrated anything that would have come from our union, and I told him that I didn't know, that I hadn't read the pamphlet or the website, that I was a fool.
his response. "I don't think so. I think, you've been lying to me. And to yourself. Most of all to yourself. I think you're reliving the first rape through this."
I sobbed, and cried, that I didn't know if I was fooling myself and living out the worst parts of my life over again, and that I was sorry if I had hurt him, and I would never stray again.
He told me he was sorry, that he couldn't trust me anymore, that he cared about me and wanted to see me get better. But not by my side.
I told him he didn't deserve me, when my mother hung up for me.
It's been months since those things happened, and I have nightmares often about them. I sometimes wish I could talk to his mother, whom I had become close with, and his father whose respect I wanted so badly, and let them know that I wasnot some evil siren trying to hurt their son. I lost a whole second family. People I was attatched to, people who were more comforting to me, sometimes, than my own family. And I loved all of them, with my whole heart.
I'm sorry. I just needed to get that off my chest. I'm going to print this up and take it to my therapist. This is the most cogent and well written I've been able to get it thus far, and while I've left a few things out, it's pretty much complete for this episode.
My question (I know, I'm constantly seeking validation, maybe because I didn't get it from the one person who really mattered); Was that rape? Sexual assault? What was it? Am I a horrible person for trying to manipulate it in my favor, turn it on X? Did I betray my love to try to destroy my attacker? I can't let this alone, and I need someone to answer me. Someone who doesn't have a vested intrest in my well-being and sanity. I know I should have kicked him to the curb the first time he even suggested I had betrayed him, but my conscious keeps telling me I did give him good reason to think so, protesting at calling it rape in the beginning simply because I didn't want to face the reality of it.
And on some level, I thought I deserved it all. I still do. Because I let it all happen. Sometimes I wonder if X really even realizes what he was doing. But that's just silly, right?