My first year at University I decided that I was going to concentrate on my studies and not date anyone. All serious, serious. I did quite well for me. We met up during summer school papers the next year. We had met briefly before as we had mutual friends and similar interests. He was several years older than me and for all my talk I was fairly naive and easily swept off my feet. Summer school papers have a tendency to be in two hour blocks so we’d go to the first hour then in the break go off to fuck. As my previous encounters had been in high-school with guys who were the same age as me and as un-experienced as me he kind of blew my world. After going out for a year we moved in together. My very first grown-up flat! About a year into that our relationship was taking it’s toll. He had little ways of putting me down. Constantly. Our rampant sex life had waned because frankly I could barely bear him touching me anymore. I didn’t want to move back home because I felt sure my mother would say ‘I told you so!’ because she never liked him. We got tattoos of each others Chinese astrology signs, in an attempt to fix our relationship. (Marriage is just a piece of paper but tattoo’s are forever was the thinking). Two weeks later we were at the bar I worked at drinking. I’m quite small, I shop in the kids department, so I never drink that much. I had a bit more than usual that night, because I was with my boyfriend, so I’d be fine right?
When we got home and went to bed, he took my clothes off. From the moment we’d gotten home the drink had really hit me hard and I wasn’t capable of undressing myself. He started doing things to me and asked “Are you ok?” I answered “I don’t know. I’m drunk. I’m too drunk.” I lay there while he raped me. I wasn’t capable of moving much except tossing my head from side to side occasionally. Anyone/Everyone who knows me that well, knows I like my sex. I was lying there like a limp fish. He kept asking me if I was ok. I kept saying that I don’t know and that I was too drunk and started sobbing. I was sobbing.
He stopped and went to sleep. I don’t know if I slept or not. In the morning I went to a cafe around the corner for breakfast because it was pay-day (awednesday) and that’s what I did on pay-day. It was this dish that’s kind of scrambled eggs but with bits of salmon in it. It’s funny the things you remember. I haven’t eaten it since. When I got back to our place he was awake and sitting on the side of the bed. He apologised profusely and explained how he had been raped when he was 18 so knew how bad it was and was so sorry. I just sat on the side of the bed frozen. I went to work. I wasn’t capable of much and the woman who worked in the kitchen with me asked what was wrong. I told her. She hugged me and said that she understood. She shared her own story of abuse with me. Halfway through my shift my boyfriend turned up. With roses. Like they would make things better. I decided to leave work early because I wasn’t able to do much and went to the toilets to change. When I came out my workmate who had been consoling me was hugging my rapist. She said that he was so upset. At that point a part inside me put it all inside a box. I went home with him. I stayed with him for a year. When I finally left him and friends asked why I told them. I lost half my friends. They’d be all sympathetic and then the next day I’d see them sitting next to him in the Quad at Uni. I found out that he had a tendency to grope girls when he hugged them. None of my friends had told me because they didn’t want to upset me.
I’d left my kitten living with him at his mother and grandmothers place because I had been staying over at a friends place and wasn’t sure when I’d find a proper place to move into. He said that she had scratched his grandmother and he was thinking of putting her down.
Years later I found out that working as a bartender he had tried to sexually assault a customer. She had pressed charges but by the time it reached court he had already voluntarily done a course so he wasn’t convicted.
When he raped me he broke something in my head. I like sex, but I can’t come with other people anymore. No matter how much I love them and trust them there’s a part in my head that can’t relax enough to be able to orgasm with another person. He’s stolen my ability to have a level of intimacy with my partner.
There was a community constable station opposite our flat. It never occurred to me to press charges because I know in cases like mine we don’t win. Especially with someone like me who’s character will be dragged through the court. “Was the first time you had sex with the accused in the bushes of Symonds St Cemetery in the middle of the day?” “Yes, yes it was.”
I’m contemplating laying charges now, almost 10 yrs after, to drag him through the court system though. I don’t care if I win. I just want to see him there, being treated like the criminal he is. Even if it’s temporary.