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I Should Have Known Better

This is long. It rambles. It has typos. For those who need trigger warnings, sexual acts and feelings will be described. Also mentioned of mental health. This thing is a general trigger so read at your risk. I just needed to get it out there to, well I don't know exactly. I guess to straighten out my thoughts with other people. I don't care if you judge me for my actions. Share wherever it is appropriate because I just didn't know where.

I was assaulted. A man I have been in a sexual relationship since I was 19 assaulted me.

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Those two sentences are still hard for me to grasp. As I go back and look at not just that incident but also others, I realize that the type of relationship that was going on was unhealthy. That this relationship was completely one side and it took until he had me pushed up on the wall to see.

The exact relationship I was in was wrong at the beginning. We were working together when we first met. Two weeks after my 19th birthday, our very cool friendship turned sexual. I knew Aaron* had a girlfriend but really, I didn't care. I wasn't and never have been in love with him. He was there to fulfill a need and to him so was I.

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At the beginning, I was I could say it was cool but the signs were there. The late night phone calls demanding I open the door, the following me home right after we got off from work, the popping up at wherever I was studying, etc. At that age, I didn't know that it was wrong. I chalked it up to annoyances. I should have known better.

A couple months into my 3rd year of college, I decided to move away. My stress level was at an all time high and my depression was slowly eating away at me. I was tired of the town I was in, I was tired of the people I surrounded myself with, and I was drained mentally and emotionally with my mother. I felt it was time to leave. He didn't want me too. He begged and begged me to stay. The last night I told him that I needed to pack but he came over anyway.

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In March of 2010, I decided to take a week off to see my brother and my Dad. Aaron and I had stayed friends when I moved away so of course I told him I was coming back. His excitement of seeing each other was greater than mine. It was a late night when we saw each other. I thought it would be a quick hello and catching up session. It quickly turned into me giving him oral inside his car before he would drive me home.

In late 2011, I moved back home to help my Dad out. Of course, I told Aaron. He was the only friend I had kept from before I moved away. We had our meetings here and there whenever my family was out of town. A year later, he got married to his girlfriend because "she's just there." Didn't really care. I started seeing him less and less because I started to date a little. When he started telling me I was his no matter who I was going out with, I should have known better and ran.

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After getting another apartment, this time with my brother and his friend, I was single so of course I told Aaron he could come over. Around February of this year, something happened. Everything became rougher. I didn't like it. From the choking, slapping, and biting, it didn't feel good at all. Telling him no made everything worse. The last time in the apartment, he forced his hand in and refused to pull it out until I finished oral on him even as I was crying. I was in pain for days but never showed or hinted to others that something was wrong. I should have known better and ended the entire thing right there.

A couple months later, I have moved into my Dad's second house because the renters who were supposed to move in were flakes. Aaron and I was the cool. We didn't talk much to one another and I didn't care. However, one day I mentioned in a text conversation I had that I was looking for someone to fix a door. He volunteered and came over in a heartbeat. He fixed the door. After, we went from talking to sex in 10 minutes. He kept asking for a key to the house. I would laugh it off. After that day, he came over again and again. He kept asking for a key. Everything was normal like the early days.

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Early July, he showed up at my house unexpectedly. I didn't believe he was outside. He kept asking why I wouldn't open the door since it was so hot outside. I kept asking why he wasn't sitting in his air-conditioned car. At this point, he demanded I open the door. I said no. I told him since I really didn't get any sleep I had already taken a sleeping pill. I followed up with an "I don't believe you are sitting outside my door anyway." He sent a picture of him driving away. I felt guilty for some reason. He had already turned around and was waiting on my doorstep.

I opened the door.

When I shut the door, I told him I didn't want to do anything that we can just talk. He said no and began pushing me to my bedroom. I started pushing back and saying no and stop repeatedly. Did not matter. He wrapped his arms around me and picked me up as if I was a ragdoll, which for most people would be quite a feat since I am very plus size. He forced me to my knees and forced himself inside my mouth. When I would push away, he would push me against the wall and force himself back inside my mouth. I kept trying to stop. I kept telling him no. He just became rougher. At some point, I just gave up. I didn't cry. I just shut down. When it was over, I didn't look him into the eyes or respond to anything he was saying, I stood in a corner away from him until he was finished dressing. At the front door, he ordered me to look him in the eyes. He was smiling telling me I should too. I've never shut the door faster in my life. Shortly after, I posted that I needed an escape.

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I continue to carry myself in a way that it never happened. I went on a date the next day. I continue to laugh and converse with people both in the offline world as well in the online world. I flirted with a number of people. I set up more dates and had more laughter. I tried my best not to think about it. However, that was hard since he continued to contact me.

The next day he sent,

Thanks for serving me even when you didn't want to.

A couple days later, he sent

U mad bro?

Followed by

U not replying meatballs?**

After it was a

Hey

A

Hi

A

Answer your phone

Another and another and and another

Hi

Until finally the last message this week said

Awwwww.

I felt disgusted reading each one of those messages.

When I start thinking about it, the immediate blame is placed on me. I should have never opened my door. I should have never responded to his texts. I shouldn't even be anywhere around him since he is married. I was the dumbass for doing it. I was stupid for opening the door. It was my fault this had happened.

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Nothing could possibly change my thinking; I should have known better to open the door. I should have known better to respond to his texts. I should have known better after every bad incident. I should have known better to be sleeping with a married man. I'm smarter than this, I should have known better period.

I keep attaching words associated with sexual assault to this incident. I keep saying I was assaulted but it feels weird. I keep trying to put it away in that box labeled "Forget about it" that is located in my mind but it will not fit.

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It may have to do with not seeing myself as a victim. A victim would never start laughing in the same day, hours after the incident. A victim would never date or flirt. A victim wouldn't go about their day, go to work (in a very triggering environment) and act as if nothing would ever happen.

Yet, I feel I was assaulted but at the same time, I don't know. I do know that I should have known better.

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*name changed

**obviously that is not my lastname

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