This is the first of a series I’m starting of creative pieces I’ve written/will continue to write that I want to share with you all. One friday every month, be on the look out x
(Trigger Warning: I’ve never done a TW before so I’m not sure if this post will count as one, but you will be reading about emotional abuse and saying no before being convinced to say yes.)
He was emotionally abusive.
I’m incredibly terrified of announcing this on the world wide web purely because I believe, in the grand scheme of things, being involved with him wasn’t as bad as the stories I’ve read or things I’ve heard from other men and women.
I succinctly remember saying to my friend, while walking around the University, “It genuinely feels like i’ve just gotten out of an emotionally abusive relationship” the day after him and I had stopped talking. Yet, at the same time, months before our relationship came to an end, I was writing this in my journal:
“… I consume my poison in the form of leading men on until I get tired or bored and I leave…”
so I must have been a tease
I do believe it was more me than it was him, that it was never an emotionally abusive relationship, because he never would have told me no one would love me like he did had i not been a tease, a flirt. Because let’s face it, he was just being a male who was keen on sleeping with a girl he believed had fallen for him.
I caused this myself.
Sometimes though, I feel it in my heart, that he used my own confusion, my own desire for attention, to his god damn advantage. And that’s not okay.
I said no. Many a time, I spelt it out for him that we, were just friends. That him and I, were never going to be anything more. That I simply just wanted him in my life as a friend.
Yet every time, without fail, he cried, he became disoriented, he became frustrated, angry, vile. “But that’s not how it is supposed to be. You are meant to like me. We will end up together, you just wait and see. You like me, I can tell, everyone fucking likes me.”
It was always like going on a trip with him, one that riddled my bones with guilt and my blood with fear that no one, would ever love me like he seemed to. In fact, I remember driving through my home town with my mother one day, claiming, crying, “but mum, maybe I should just settle because even though he isn’t ideal, maybe no one will love me like him.”
News flash babe: he never fucking loved you.
Just because he was kind in the beginning. Just because he was constantly checking up on me. That didn’t stop him from becoming the man who reminded me far too often that I would not find someone else, not like him anyway, because he’d give me the world, he’d be the only one who would.
And I’m laying in bed tonight and I feel physically sick, on edge, despite this occurring almost 12 months ago. Because no matter what he said to me, how he tried to convince me that we were meant to be, I said…No.
But I was a flirt.
I was a tease.
I was a whore.
I once wrote in my journal;
I love male attention, I fucking crave it.
He used that. He used the fact that I loved it when a guy smiled at me; winked at me; flirted with me. He used that to his advantage when he proclaimed to my friend one day, “well, there the fuck is all this male attention that she’s getting? Does she even get any apart from me?” As if to say, well If I’m all she’s getting, and she loves the attention, then why aren’t we fucking?
News flash number two: just because I’m not parading around the fact that men flirt with me, like you parade your dick, it doesn’t mean it’s not there.
but I caused this…
We have not spoken for 6 months, which is the longest we have gone without contacting one another in the past five years of our friendship. I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed that in 2016 it’s become a trend that people always leave.
A week after we stopped speaking I discovered that he had just broken things off with his girlfriend of 18 months. While he was trying to get me into his bed, while he was proclaiming that we were most certainly going to be together, no matter how I felt about the situation, he was fucking another girl.
I was a tease. I deserved this.
Yesterday, I decided that if we met again, I’d tell him to fuck off, that he has no right to walk up to me in a crowded room full of strangers when he so simply left me to bleed to death from the knife wounds he created; while he begged and pleaded that I apologise for his wrongs. I’d let him know that my life has been a hell of a lot better since he decided to hit the road when, for the last time, I said No.
Reminder; NO is a sentence. It is an answer. It is damn well okay to speak out loud and yet here I am, having to explain this to you when in an ideal world, we would all be well aware of this fact.
I said No. No. No. No.
But I must have lead you on, I must have fucking caused this.
You managed to convince me that I was wrong in saying No. That I was wrong in how I was feeling. That no one, would love me like you convinced me you did.
It’s been 12 months almost to the day when I said remember saying a firm and definite No to you for the first time and yet here I am, choking up because it feels so raw.
You told me I was wrong.
You’ll regret this, you whisper.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to be, you screamed.
We’ll be together in the end, you’ll see, you sneered.
I remember the first time I apologised for saying No to you. Imagine that, me apologising for saying that no, we couldn’t and wouldn’t be together. I’m just terribly self-destructive, I don’t know what I want, I’ll end up hurting you and I’d rather hurt myself, are just some of the reasons I cried to you as I apologised over the phone.
It’s okay, you laughed, It will be okay. You just have to know that this, us being together, is how it’s supposed to be.
I smiled. I laughed and I hung up the phone, sick to my stomach because for the first and most certainly not the last, time I let you have one over me, I let you convince me that I was wrong in saying no.
I was flirt, a tease, a whore. I should have never resisted. I caused this.
I was not wrong. I did not cause this.
Because No is an entire sentence. Because you are not wrong for saying No to men who are kind to you, who sweet talk you, who flirt with you, who show you some act of decency, who treat you like he treated me.
But I was a flirt.
And I was a tease.
I liked the attention.
I hear the words society is screaming at me as they blame me for how this relationship ended.
And yes, yes, yes, I know.
But even a God that I’m not sure exists, knows that I, that you, owe everyone, nothing.
I said No and I ended up apologising and I thoughts thing would be okay.
They weren’t, because even today my stomach crawls at the thought of you and my heart races in panic when I say No to other men, for fear they will react as you did.
I was a flirt.
I craved the attention.
But I also said no.
No does not mean, convince me. It does not mean, maybe. It does not mean repeat yourself until I say yes.
No means no, and I fucking said it.