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.
Watch: Women And Violence: The Hidden Numbers. Post continues below.
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.