This post deals with sexual assault and might be triggering for some readers.
In the wake of all the discussions we are having as a society, as a nation, even personally as a couple - I was still surprised when my boyfriend, my partner, raped me.
If I’m honest with myself, with his “but not all men” type response to our conversations, I was not as surprised as I was sad... empty.
He’s pushed me before, in bed. Trying to make me “want it” or “be in the mood”. But ultimately he’s never ignored when I’ve “playfully”, yet obviously, and clearly, pushed him away. Even then, if I’m completely honest with myself, that line I’d drawn it felt... weak.
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Yet as a partner he’s great... until he isn’t. And it comes fast, hard, and is always such a shock. There’s no hitting, or pushing, but whenever we argue – he is always right. And despite the old saying, words actually do hurt.
Even now, as I try to describe it... him - I can’t. Because he makes me dinner whenever I’m stressed with work - without me asking. He gives me massages, he kisses me when he gets home, and every single day he tells me how gorgeous I am.
Every single day.
But that night, last week, the night before I was to be a bridesmaid for my brother fiancé; he didn’t listen. Even though I pushed his head away… moved my muscles to close my thighs… said “I’m tired”, “I need to get up early”, “baby, no”- it didn’t’ stop him.
Eventually I stopped pushing, and my arms fell heavily onto the mattress. I don’t know how he didn’t hear the sound, because it wasn’t just my arms, but my whole heart and soul falling while he moved my underwear to the side. Successfully this time.
Throughout it he kept saying “come for me”, so I made noises, holding back the tears, just to make it end. My arms never left my side.
Because I was tired. I wasn’t into it. I had said no.
When he was done, I rolled over and could no longer hold back the silent tears.
It was then he rolled towards me, his body over mine. I could feel my whole body tense.
Silently he watched as the tears cascaded down my face.
“I just raped you didn’t I?” he whispered.
Holding back sobs, all I could manage was a choked, “uh huh”.
He replied, “I’m sorry, I just wanted you so badly all day.”
I didn’t respond.
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The narrative. It’s always about the male. He’s sorry… he wanted it.
His response almost hurt more than what had just happened.
The man who I’d built a relationship with for the past year, who had met my parents, who had held my hand at a funeral, who greeted me every single morning with the words “good morning beautiful” - had chipped away another piece of my soul.
Just like in grade 6 when I’d visit my friend, and her dad would maintain eye contact while “scratching” his crotch. Winking. And I’d feel so sick to my stomach.
Just like the time I was 16, and we were drinking in a safe space.
At some point my friend invited some older boys around. It was the first time we’d ever drank properly and knowing I’d had enough, I got into bed alone.
But I woke to hands in my pants, and a male voice saying “she’s so hairy!” and other boys laughing. I was 15 and a virgin. I couldn’t breathe, so I rolled over and pretended to be asleep. Trying to pretend I wasn’t there.
Just like the time I went to one of my best friend's 21st parties, and after three drinks went to bed in an empty room (which I’d previously secured with my friend), because I had work early the next day.
I was woken to one of our “friends” pressed firmly against my back. My front pushed against the wall. His hands at the band of my pants. Pushing in.
I’d tried to roll away, making snoring noises, too embarrassed to say anything. Pretending I was still asleep. Because we were friends, and how could I call him out? Who would believe me? How could we all hang out again? All the while my heart was pounding in my throat, and my body paralyzed with fear.
That “friend” was married last year, and two months ago had a baby boy. I could bet all the money in the world that he has not thought about that moment for a second since.
But I have.
Just like at 22 when my drink was spiked at a club, and I kept saying “something’s wrong” to my male friends, but they didn’t listen, and I had to be carried out by a bouncer because, after two cocktails I couldn’t stand (funny how I still feel like I have to mention how many drinks I had).
And now, at 28 - raped by my boyfriend.
Each moment took something from me.
I’m just another girl. Woman. But I was safe. I went out with a friend. I have a partner.
Yet it’s not about revealing clothes. It’s not about being too drunk, or being single or “asking for it”.
It’s about being a female and the “right” men feel. And that’s what needs to change.
Right now, my partner, he thinks we are okay after his apology, but I don’t know If I can forgive him.
He took something from me, something I can’t even describe.
It makes me so sad, because we both thought each other were the one. And I’m looking at him asleep beside as I write this, and I don’t know who I hate more, him for raping me or me for loving him.
If this post brings up any issues for you, or if you just feel like you need to speak to someone, please call 1800 RESPECT (1800 737 732) – the national sexual assault, domestic and family violence counselling service. It doesn’t matter where you live, they will take your call and, if need be, refer you to a service closer to home.
You can also call safe steps 24/7 Family Violence Response Line on 1800 015 188 or visit www.safesteps.org.au for further information.
Feature Image: Getty.
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