Sharing for the first time

This is my story.

In the summer of 2013 I met someone through an online dating app. At first, he seemed charming, hard working, intelligent, exciting, fit, and attractive. We began chatting, and in a matter of a few days, I drove to his house over an hour away to meet him. 

 

He was a police officer in his town and an active member of the Air Force. I thought he must be a good person because he’s dedicated his life to serving the public. I had found online that his father was also a police officer for the same city. They must be a good family, I thought.

 

I arrived at his house in the early afternoon and planned to stay for part of the day as he worked from midnight to 8am. I pulled up to his house and he was sitting on the front steps waiting to greet me. I got out of my car and he approached me and greeted me with a hug that felt insincere. I smiled and I followed him inside the house and he took me on a quick tour — messy and unkempt rooms with clothes strewn about. The bathrooms looked like they had not been cleaned in a few weeks. 

 

After the tour, he immediately took me to the basement where he slept on a mattress on the floor because “it was much cooler in the summertime than the upstairs bedroom”. Again, clothes scattered about, video game controllers and random DVD’s on the floor beside the mattress, and dog hair from his black shepherd dog covered almost everything. I was a bit put off by the mess but I thought I he must not have much time to clean since he is working nights and still active military. 

 

I had just enough time to take in my surroundings when he grabbed me by the waist and started kissing me. He lifted my shirt above my head and continued to undress me. Something about him didn’t feel right, but I had had one night stands on the past and convinced myself to just go with it because he was a cop and must be a good person, right? It lasted quite a while and it was a bit rougher than I expected. When we were finished, I was tired and sore. He suggested we shower and go get lunch at a sushi restaurant in town. I agreed.

 

After we returned to his house, we went back down into the basement and he wanted to have sex a second time. I was still sore from before but I agreed to a second time because I did not want to disappoint him. This time, it was as rough as the first time, but it felt worse because I was still sore. He took photos of me naked and also during sex with his cell phone. I winced in pain but didn’t say anything and allowed him to continue until he was finished. 

 

Afterwards, he told me he would be going to sleep and would wake up at 11pm for his shift that night. He asked if I would stay and sleep with him and I could leave at 11pm when he got up for work. I wanted to go home, but again, I didn’t want to disappoint him and agreed to stay anyway. 

 

We began seeing each other regularly over the next few months. I learned that he broke up with his ex-fiancée after he discovered she cheated on him while he was deployed. He claimed this to be the reason for most of his trust issues. 

 

In mid-summer, I had an opportunity for a promotion with my employer, but I would need to relocate. The new position would be based about 10 minutes from his house  and would be too far for me to drive from my current location. He encouraged me to take the promotion and move in with him because I would make more money, my commute would be shorter, and we would see each other more. I accepted the position and moved in with him immediately.

 

Shortly after moving in, his tone changed. He became more controlling and needed to know everything that I was doing, who I was talking to, who I hired to work for me, etc. He would playfully steal my phone while I was texting to see who I was talking to. Most often it was my sister, but he insisted on going through my messages anyway to make sure I wasn’t cheating on him. I knew he had trust issues from his ex-fiancée cheating on him so I thought if this is what he needs to do to see that I’m trustworthy, then ok. 

 

Things progressed quickly to a set of rules that I were to follow. If I didn’t follow the rules, he threatened to put me out on the street. These were the rules:

Text him when I arrive to work and when I leave. 

Dress conservatively (no tight clothes, and shirts must not show below the collarbone).

I must eat healthy and work out regularly. I was told “if you get fat, I will leave you”.

I must ask permission to visit any family member or friend.

Grant him access to my phone and laptop and all passwords. 

Clean the house and do all laundry and grocery shopping. 

Cook him a hot breakfast daily and have it ready for when he returns from work every morning. Also, prepare his meals for work the night before.

No leaving the house at night while he is working. (He sends his coworkers working in the area by the house at night to make sure I have not left, or that no one is visiting the house)

It is my duty to satisfy him sexually whenever he demands it. 

No cheating. If I do, he assured me he will “kill me and hide my body where no one will ever find it”.

I cannot speak to any male friends or hire any male employees.

 

He would often try to convince me to quit my job because “it’s not a real career” and I could “just be his housewife and take care of him”. I continued working because I took pride in my job and enjoyed it. It gave me a feeling of independence. I later realized it was his goal to make me dependent on him so I could never leave. 

 

His temper was explosive and anything would set him off. And I would be the target for all his anger. He would scream and yell at me until I cried and his face was red. I would try to hide in the bathroom to cry alone and he would chase after me and forbid me to close any door in the house. 

 

After a friends wedding, we got in the car to drive home and he immediately exploded at me because he caught another man looking at my chest on the dance floor. Throughout the entire hour and a half I drove us home, he yelled as loud as he could at me. That it was my fault. That I was a sl*t and I was asking for the other mans attention. He threatened to throw me out on the streets when we got home. That night I drove around in my car for a few hours not knowing where to go or what to do. I called him and begged him to forgive me and let me come home. And he did.

 

We would go to the gym regularly in the mornings after he returned from work. He would lift weights and I would run on the treadmill. It helped to clear my mind and feel good about myself. One morning, a young man walked past me on the treadmill, smiled, and said good morning. I smiled and said good morning back, and the man continued walking to his machine. Immediately he walked over to my treadmill and told me to stop. He glared at me and talked through his teeth, “What the fuck was that? You trying to flirt with guys at the gym? We’re done here. Get off the treadmill. We’re getting out of here and this is over.” I tried to quietly defend myself while not making a scene in the gym, but he would not listen. He grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the gym and across the parking lot to the car. I looked down at the pavement in embarrassment, avoiding the stares of the other patrons in the parking lot. Immediately as the car door shut, he unleashed his rage on me yet again. When we got home, I started to gather my things to leave. He continued to yell and call me a sl*t, and I continued to apologize for something I didn’t do. Eventually he backed off and let me stay. 

 

Occasionally he would show up at my job unannounced to make sure I was really there. On one occasion, he came during my lunch break and found me eating a slice of veggie pizza and humiliated me in front of my employees because I should not be eating that. 

 

During most arguments, he would tell me I’m a sl*t because I slept with him when we first met. He would tell me to “shut up and not think about anything because he would do all the thinking for us.” All I had to do was “keep my mouth shut and be his trophy wife”. He’d tell me my job wasn’t a real job and I should just quit and take care of him and the house.

 

After an argument, I remember him asking me to go upstairs and get his police pistol from the bedside and bring it to him. When I returned with the pistol, I placed it on the coffee table and he said, “If you ever try to resist me or say anything to anyone, just remember that it’s my word against yours. Your prints are on my gun now, and all I have to say is you pointed my gun at me and I defended myself. Who do you think they will believe? I’m a respectable cop, and so is my father. You’re just a sl*t.”

 

His anger and verbal abuse were minor compared to the sexual abuse I endured from him. Part of the “rules” were that I submit to his sexual requests whenever he wanted. It was my duty to fulfill his needs. There were times where he would want sex multiple times a day. He was never gentle and I was often sore and would bleed after intercourse to the point I needed to wear a pad after. Sometimes I would need up to two days to recover from the last encounter, but he accused me of withholding sex from him and demanded I submit. I would be swollen and sore from the day before but I submitted because I felt I didn’t have a choice.

 

If I was too dry for penetration, or if I asked him to slow down, he would become infuriated and push my body away and yell that I don’t love him and I’m not giving him what he needs, and how could I do this to him? I had sex with him multiple times when we first met, so why am I withholding it from him now?  

 

If he finished first and I didn’t have an orgasm, he would insist on giving me an orgasm. I would tell him “it’s fine, it still felt good for me. I don’t need to orgasm.” But he would not accept it and finger me until I orgasmed. He would thrust his fingers so hard and so fast, his knuckles would bruise me and I would bleed. Quickly, I learned to fake orgasms. 

 

He would buy stockings and lingerie for me to wear for him and he would take pictures and videos of me. I later found numerous videos and pictures of other women he had done this to on his old cell phone. 

 

After months of being told I’m not good enough, enduring emotional, and sexual abuse on a daily basis, a fight erupted one morning as I was running late for work. He was coming home after his night shift and I was rushing out the door, and I had failed to make him breakfast. How selfish of me, I could not think to put his needs first. Instead of defending myself I let it go and i walked out the door to work. I came back after work to get a few changes of clothes for the next day. Depressed and not knowing what to do or where to go, I slept in my car that night. 

 

The next two nights I decided to get a room in a cheap hotel around the corner from my job so I could get a better nights sleep and a shower. He texted me repeatedly asking when I was coming to get the rest of my things. I drove back to his house in the morning and on the way, I was involved in a four-car collision on the highway. Luckily i avoided hitting anyone myself, but I was rear ended pretty badly. My car was drivable but needed to be repaired badly. I broke down in tears and arrived to his house. He came outside to meet me and I was in near hysterics and he saw the damage on my car. I reassured him I was crying because of my car and not because of him. I stormed through his house with garbage bags and took everything I owned and even food that I had bought because now I was basically homeless and didn’t know what was going to happen next. He followed me from room to room and just watched me ravage each room in silence. I loaded up my car and sped away.

 

Fast forward many months later, I was settled into my own apartment as a single woman. I felt lonely and sad often and tried to push away the thoughts of what I had endured. Mostly I felt shame because I ignored the red flags and I thought I had deserved what happened to me. I didn’t realize until I started dating again almost a year later the physical damage he had done. I suffered from painful intercourse and unbearable cramping after orgasms. It has taken years for my body to recover from the trauma. But the emotional wounds and PTSD still remain. 

 

Certain things will trigger a flashback. Most often the T-Mobile ringtone will trigger me. That was his alarm that would go off every night at 11pm for work. Every time I hear it, it makes me jump and my heart starts racing. Most days I’m ok, but today in particular was tough. I woke up from a nightmare that he came in my house to take me back. In my dream I was terrified and tried to be calm and navigate my way out of it, just as I had done in real life. I woke up and I knew it was only a dream, but those dreams put me in a depression that takes most of the day to shake off. And that’s why I’m here. He still haunts me five years later. I’m debating going to therapy, but this is a good start. My close friends and my husband know I was in a “bad relationship” but no one knows the details I’ve shared on this blog. So this is my first real step to healing myself.