Waiting

I didn't do it because I'm no longer afraid of being alone or have stopped thinking about F. I still close my eyes and see F. As quickly as my body yearns for F, his touch, I am equally afraid of F and his threats. It remains complicated.

But I did it. I blocked F's phone number on my cell. I blocked him on social media.

All because he told me to do it. And when I text him the next day and told him I blocked F, he simply replied, "Beautiful."

Have you ever felt like you've been waiting for something? For someone?

It's been nearly a year since I e-mailed him; forced myself to write a quick e-mail two days after I woke up sobbing from a horrific dream. I sent it to his work e-mail, figuring it was the safest route. There had been no communication since his wedding day, except for a quick text on my 40th birthday, and I didn't want to cause any issues.

His wedding day was bittersweet. I was truly happy for him, but I knew things wouldn't be the same anymore. His bride seemed to be the kind of woman that wouldn't allow her husband to have female friendships, even if they'd been friends since they were 15 years old. He looked happy, so I was happy for him, but I was also a little sad.

There's never been a doubt we have a strong connection. Others have commented on it after seeing us interact. I was always a little apprehensive about those comments because it hadn't been easy and had taken a lot of work to get to a comfortable place with one another. He hurt me. I hurt him. Sometimes it felt we'd never break the pattern and any suggestions of something more than friendship between us jeopardized this bond.

I had already been with F for a year when he started dating his future bride. And although cracks had started to form in my relationship with F, when he married her the following year, we were still happy. Truthfully, we hadn't seen much of each other since I started with F and I only met his wife briefly at an event when they started dating. I know that if F had ever seen me and him together, our friendship would have ended long before he got married and my relationship with F would have cracked long before it did.

Nearly five years after his wedding, that dream scared me. He was there with his wife. I was there. There was a fight, a horrible car accident. I was screaming, crying, and I woke up in tears. I just needed to know he was OK. We exchanged a few e-mails catching each other up and that's when I learned he was going through a divorce. Since the initial e-mail, there have been random texts here and there, months apart, but that's it.

He spent New Years in Mexico and when he got back last week, he received the Christmas and birthday cards I sent, so he text me to thank me and asked if I was available for dinner. He was going to be in the area.

We talked about his trip, me resigning from my position and after a while, I finally asked why he got a divorce. It turns out he and I had more in common than anyone could have guessed. I turned away, said I understood and then I told him about F. I even told him about the tattoo and how he text me on Christmas Eve. I didn't mean to tell him everything.

When he asked why I hadn't blocked F's number. I looked away again. It was complicated.

He said F was like a cancer and I needed to cut him out. He said I needed to block his number. I did so that night.

No matter what we went through, the distance, the arguments, the hurt, his opinion matters and affects me the most. It always has.

I don't kid myself. I remember the look in his eye when we were having dinner years ago, discussing the relationship I was in with a former classmate, and he realized our former classmate had seen me naked and was still interested in me. That was the night I realized why he would never love me. Why I was never good enough for him. 

I know that at one time, I meant a lot to him. He told me. He told me I was special to him. He told me he didn't want to lose me. He just couldn't love me the way you're supposed to love a woman. And until that night, I didn't know why. It took a lot to push that knowledge, that understanding down and just accept how things were between us.

If I didn't block F's number, if I continued the back and forth with F, it would be another disappointment in his eyes, another reason why I wasn't good enough. There are already so many reasons he couldn't love me; I couldn't bear another.

For years I've told myself that we only looked good on paper, in the real world, we were incompatible. Besides, when I loved him, I was so innocent. I didn't think about kissing him or having sex with him. I could close my eyes and see our future together, our home, our kids, but I never fantasized sexually about him. And even when we finally settled into an easy comfort with each other, there were never any sexual stirrings within me.

I realized something the other night. In the past 20 years, with all the dinners and nights out, sharing desserts and snacks, attending events, the photos and selfies; we haven't touched each other. I remember an awkward hug when I came home for Christmas junior year of college, but did I even hug him on his wedding day?

Now all I can think about is what his fingers on my skin would feel like...wonder if I would feel anything with just a simple hug or touch.

Is this what I've been waiting for all this time?

Ownership

"Tall, dark and muscled like a god, Beau Barnett is great with an axe. Every woman in Rockhead Point wants a taste of the mountain man. Including me. Except he doesn’t even know my name. I’m just the girl behind the counter filling his coffee, while he grunts and grumbles, barely making eye contact. Then a newcomer with a charming smile and a fancy suit shows up in Rockhead Point, and refuses to take no for an answer when he asks me to dinner. That’s when I find out Mr. Mountain Man not only knows my name… he thinks I’m his property."

After reading the above description, plus the fact I could read it for free on the Kindle app with Prime Reading, I downloaded and started reading Property of The Mountain Man by Gemma Weir. I was expecting a deliciously sexy romance novel with a few explicit scenes that I hope would stir something within me. My very first "romance" novel was Granite Man by Elizabeth Lowell when I was a teen and the description of this new protagonist was similar to my beloved granite man that, to this day, still stirs something within, so it should have been a score for the mountain man.

Unfortunately, there were just so many things about the book, the story, the characters, that I found so appalling, and all I could think about was me and my ex; my abusive ex. Quite frankly, this was a toxic, super unhealthy relationship - if you could even call it that - and all I wanted was for her to run away from the mountain man.

First of, I'd just like to say that romance novels have taken it to a whole other level. ...Mountain Man has 22 chapters and it's only the first 2 1/2 chapters that don't contain explicit scenes. In 16 chapters, Granite Man has a total of 3 1/2 explicit scenes (the 1/2 is only because he references taking her in the pool, but we don't actually "experience" it like the others). For the amount of explicit scenes in ...Mountain Man, I used to have to read books actually designated as "erotica." Look, I'm no prude. I am a sexual person. I enjoy erotica. I enjoy porn. I have a very active imagination. This is not a knock on this book, I just wasn't expecting it. But considering the circumstances, I think it was excessive.

Issue #1

The age difference. She's 21 and he's 43. I personally, as a 43 year old woman, cannot see myself with a 21 year old; not even as a fling. Heck, it's icky for me to think about anyone near my brother's age...yuck! I could have probably gotten past the age difference here if it hadn't been for the fact that the female protagonist admits she's had a crush on him since she first laid eyes on him when she was 13 years old. T-H-I-R-T-E-E-N years old! So he was already 35! And she's been fantasizing about him this entire time.

I was a teenage girl once and teenage girls are stupid and we think we know everything when we really know nothing. I speak from experience. The summer before I turned 15, my mom had opened a second bakery in a relatively quiet neighborhood, not far from two of my uncles' homes, and I spent the break before school working there, by myself. My uncles would drop by when they got home from work and I would usually hang out at one of their houses after closing up waiting for my mom to pick me up, but for the most part, I spent the entire day there, on my own; a fourteen year old completely alone. Next door was a karate studio and I thought one of the instructors was so cute. I would stand at the counter looking out the large panel windows, waiting to see his car turn the corner and come into the plaza parking area. I was still relatively innocent then, so all I really fantasized about was him kissing me, and I would swoon. He must have been at least 30 years old and me, a 14 year old, was daydreaming about making out with him. Teenage girls are stupid. I don't want to think about what could have happened if I hadn't been as innocent as I was, or if he hadn't known better.

Not only did she have a crush on a grown man as a teenager, he even tells her that he basically waited for her to turn 21 (she hasn't been 21 for very long). He had been "stalking" her for a year and it's not until now that he realizes why; he'd been waiting for her and she was too young before.

Issue #2

Well she's still too friggin' young! He is a very experienced man, very experienced. Not only was she a virgin, she had absolutely no experience with men - no dating, no boyfriends - and he pretty much pounces on her. He doesn't court her. He doesn't take her out. He sees her harmlessly flirting with an out-of-towner and it drives him insane and that's when he realizes he wants her. When he does realize it, it's not, "oh, I like her, I'd like to take her out and get to know her." No, it's, "SHE'S MINE!" She belongs to him and no one else can have her.

He immediately sets about claiming her, marking his territory. They don't even go out. She doesn't even get a say in it. He's decided that she's his and that's that. Immediately he takes her to his home and basically uses sex to manipulate her and to try control her.

Issue #3

This all takes place within a week. He says she belongs to him, finds out she's a virgin, basically makes her sleep at his house every night, fucks her the second night, and by the end of the week, she says yes to marrying her.

Issue #4

Don't get me started on her dad and brother. Well, at least her brother, who is the same age as the mountain man, tries to intervene and tell her she shouldn't be involved with a man old enough to be her father, but they have such a distant relationship that she tells him he has no right to tell her how to live her life. Her dad, basically lets him just cart her away to his house saying they have to work it out. Ugh.

This all set off so many warnings inside me. The mountain man was F claiming me for himself. I mean, the mountain man doesn't even let her have a girls night with her friend; he shows up and hides in a booth until a guy tries to dance with her and then he flips out and throws the guy across the room. F never let me go out. It got to the point where even going out with family wasn't allowed.

I don't know why I kept reading. I told myself to stop, but I kept going. I kept hoping that either he would change in a way that F never did, or that she'd get away from him somehow. That never happened and I just kept thinking, "no, no, no."

"...This book contains an over the top, jealous, unreasonable, possessive asshole.

If you consider unapologetic alphaholes unacceptable, or feel their behavior is in someway abusive, then this isn't the book for you.

If, however, like me you love a guy who is so obsessively in love with his girl that he will snarl, demand, punish, and fuck her until she gives herself to him completely, then read on and welcome to the world of my Montana Mountain Men."

As I scrolled back on my Kindle for reference, I saw the above warning printed before the first chapter. I hadn't seen it before. Maybe that warning should have been in the book description.

The behavior is not "someway abusive." It is abusive. I don't have a problem with alpha males or sexually dominant & submissive roles. You can have those in a story without it being abusive. In thinking back to the explicit scenes, if the alpha male wasn't written the way he was, I would have enjoyed those scenes because I am sexually submissive.

I remember the shock in my cousin's eyes when I said I was sexually submissive. She said she could never be weak. But I don't look at it as being weak. Being sexually submissive to F came with a lot of power. I felt powerful with every touch I gave him. I was doing that to him. I was making his body react that way. I drove him crazy and unleashed him. But reading these scenes didn't bring pleasure, just fear, and all I could think about was F.

F wanted to control me outside of the bedroom too; take ownership of me completely. He was claiming me for himself and no one else. I could never be with anyone else; I would always be his. I have the tattoo as a constant reminder of his ownership; it's a shame I live with every day. And if I hadn't been strong enough to say no, I would be a single mom right now because he saw knocking me up as the ultimate form of ownership.

I lived this story and it doesn't end well. I wanted her to run. I didn't want her to stay like I did for so long and end up like me. I live in fear of not being able to refuse him and falling back into him. The sex was that good. And just like the mountain man, F used sex as a weapon; to manipulate and punish me. I lost myself and as much as I've tried to put myself back together, I just feel like I'm damaged, broken.

Maybe that's why "The Spanish Love Deception" resonated so much with me. Now there's an alpha male that wants to protect and take care of his woman; that can sweep in, but knows she can also take care of herself; that wants her to be his just as much as he wants to be hers; and can still be sexually dominant and thoughtful, putting her needs before his. It gives me hope, just a bit of hope that I might be able to put the pieces back together.

Beautiful

I asked him once
If I was beautiful
If he thought I was beautiful

He scolded me for asking
I shouldn’t fish for compliments
Wait for him to give them

He never gave them
Never told me I was beautiful
Or pretty
Or simply just cute

I've never felt beautiful

Never been told I am

Not even by my mother

There've been times I felt cute

Not pretty

Just cute

Sometimes, when my hair is just so

And I somehow feel good

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,

Right?

Can you ever see beauty in yourself

if no one has ever told you

You are beautiful

Even just once

Sadness

Sometimes it’s too much
Overwhelming
This overbearing sadness
 
Will it remain forever?
Deep inside
Unmovable
 
Longing, deep longing
Clawing its way through me
The sadness suffocating
 
Am I broken?
Or just lost?
Was I ever whole?
Or simply good at pretending?
 
Confidence shaken
Walls up
Trust broken
Overcome with fear
 
Is this how it is?
How I’m meant to be?
Pretending to be OK
Always alone
Always unloved
 
Sometimes it’s too much
This overbearing sadness

Overwhelming

Ridiculous

It's been almost a year since things were officially over with F. He text me on Christmas Eve. We argued. Well, he got upset because my response included his name. That led to accusations from both sides of how the other was never going to change. He unfollowed me on IG, wished me luck with my cardmaking and said goodbye.

I hate to admit that I would have easily spread my legs for him if he hadn't reacted the way he did. I still love him. I know I shouldn't, my brain knows I shouldn't, but my heart won't listen.

As we approach two full years of this pandemic, I am so lonely and yearn to be touched. What's worse is I'm afraid I won't ever be fucked the way he fucked me. He was so good at it. He made me feel so good.

And that makes me feel foolish, so foolish. That's what I'm worried about?!? Being well fucked?!?! That's my concern? I really am ridiculous.

F*#&in Exhausted, Part 3

I started writing about my work life, but then I just got tired of reliving it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Who's going to hire the fat girl?"

I am no stranger to the concept of paying your dues. I have always felt my work speaks for itself and whenever I go into a new company, I let my work do the talking. Unfortunately, it is also about the people you know, none more so than in the entertainment industry.

I'm a hard worker and a quick study. I have no problem putting in the work, but I also have no qualms leaving bad situations. I have worked my way up from entry level to director level to even vice president. I have put in the hours and made sacrifices. So many times I've been told, "well, you're not married, you don't have kids, so you can work those hours."

I was brought on as "Vice President of Operations" for a defunct company that was being rebuilt from the ground up. It was shut down for about 2 or 3 years and there were absolutely no processes in place. I was part of the interview process for the company that built our system, I worked hand in hand with them to build it; it was my design. I designed all the project paperwork (instructions, forms, etc.). Some of the data engineers were in Indonesia, so I would be up in the middle of the night working with them. I set up the phones and computers in the office and did our tech support. The VP and President above me were just figureheads, brought on for their connections to the industry. I am not overstating when I say I was the only one with the experience in this field and the only one that could it. And yet, I was undermined at every step. They put me down to ownership behind my back. Not a day went by that the other VP didn't say that she had a 13 year old son and couldn't put in those hours, and yet, would turn around and tell the owner that I was doing everything myself because I was a control freak. Not only was I building the system and getting grief for it, I was under paid. We weren't even ready with main operations when they started other departments and brought in vp's at double my pay. I walked away before the system was finished.

They filed for bankruptcy less than a year after I left. And it was all my fault. Not the fact that they hired people that knew nothing about the business and let the one doing the work walk away. No, I was ungrateful.

I had left quietly. I went radio silent for months. I never told anyone why I left, but the rumors swirled once people realized I was gone. The funny thing was that they couldn't say anything about my work. Instead they said I was ungrateful because ownership had paid for me to have gastric bypass and not only did I gain the weight back, but I didn't pay back ownership. NEVER HAVE I EVER HAD GASTRIC BYPASS SURGERY.

In less than a year, the damage had been done. I had allowed them to rob me of my confidence.

I always have to work twice as hard, while others around me slack off. And it's been either all on my shoulders or...

F*#&in Exhausted, Part 2

In college, I had a new start. I was far away from everyone and everything I knew. I no longer felt tied down to the expectations of my name and reputation. Yes, since junior high and throughout high school there were expectations tied to my name. So many I met admitted they didn't like me because they always heard my name, but upon actually meeting me, surprise, I was a sweet girl and not at all like they thought. Teachers knew my name before I even entered their classroom. I had a lot to live up to.

But no one knew me in college. No one knew my reputation. I finally felt I could be me. I wasn't the uptight, fuddy-duddy in all the advanced classes. I wasn't the teacher's pet. 

When I came home on breaks, it was a different story and I hated coming home. School breaks were full of old drama, expectations and judgements. And when my bff from senior year came back into my life, it all spilled into my college life. I was back to having to prove myself and the life choices I had made. I was supposed to be the same girl that sat behind him in homeroom junior and senior years, the girl that had loved him so much despite her not being loved in return.

Don't Look Back

Didn’t learn the lesson
Kept going back
Tears hidden behind a smiling face
Pain and shame buried deep down
Be strong
Be strong, she whispered to herself
You’re free
Don’t look back

F*#&in Exhausted, Part 1

I have realized that my entire life has been about proving myself and I am tired. No, I am fucking exhausted.

I'm not talking about just with men. In school, personal life, professional life...in EVERYTHING!

Freshman year of high school I took Algebra 2. There were three freshmen in my Algebra 2 class, everyone else were upperclassmen. My Algebra 2 teacher was also the MESA (Mathematics, Engineering and Science Achievement) advisor. The other two freshmen in my class were male students. Our teacher recruited the male students into MESA way before me, even though we all had A's in the class. I wasn't recruited until the end of the school year when I surpassed the entire class for the highest A in the class.

Fast forward to junior year and there are 5 juniors in my AP Calculus class (the rest were seniors). I was the only junior female. I was also President of MESA and taking Physics with seniors because I opted out of taking AP Biology with the rest of my friends. For the annual MESA Day, we took exams in our respective math levels to determine the teams. (*I should mention my school was on a track system, so for my track there were only 5 juniors taking AP Calc and the other tracks also had AP Calc classes with juniors.) The top three scores made up the team. I came in second. I outscored the two male students from my Algebra 2 class; neither of them made the team. The other two that made the team were also juniors and from a different track.

Up until the morning of the MESA Day competition, they were trying to talk me into withdrawing from the team, including our advisor. The Calc exam was hard and when I came out of it saying it was hard, they all said I blew it for the team. But then, when my two male teammates came out saying how hard it was, then suddenly it really was hard. We tied for 2nd place.

Math was my favorite subject and I was an A student. I struggled with Geometry in the 8th grade, but I was still one of the 3 A's in the class. And yet, I always had to prove myself. I was always talked down to. I worked my ass off for MESA, recruited from all the tracks, kept MESA going; made sure our legacy continued, but it still wasn't enough. We all took the same Calc exam to make the team, but somehow I wasn't good enough. It wasn't until the end of senior year, just before graduation, that our MESA advisor told me the best thing he did was recruit me into MESA.

Similarly, my Key Club advisor wasn't thrilled I was elected President for my senior year. The entire classroom had yelled out my name during nominations and I ran uncontested. I had attended almost every single event since the end of my freshman year, had gone to two Key Club conventions and even served as a voting delegate for one of them, but our faculty advisor had doubts about me. He thought I had too much on my plate. My predecessor had had too much on her plate and we had lost our standing. But going into my presidency, I had prepared for this. I hand-picked my successor for MESA and as a senior, all of my classes were scaled back. I didn't have a math nor science anymore and half of my classes were electives needed for graduation that I should have taken in previous years but couldn't because of all of my advance academic courses. 

Just like my MESA advisor, at the end of the year, as we came back from my last Key Club convention, my advisor told me about his reservations when I was first elected, but that he was proud of me: proud of all the work I had done to put our school back on top in the division and that he knew how hard a time I had but had always taken the high road. (My VP hated me. She had wanted to be president, but didn't run against me and instead made the entire year difficult and did her best to humiliate me as much as possible. I never retaliated. And even though I did all the work, I never presented it that way.) I knew I had won over my faculty advisor when we were preparing for convention and the award nominations forms were released. I was a TA in one of the computer classes and he came in to tell me he wanted to nominate me for outstanding president and for me to fill out the forms. LOL.

And this was high school; where I can easily point the finger to when it started...the breakdown of my confidence.

Alone

The tears roll down her cheek
Silent
She cries herself to sleep
Alone
Always alone

He couldn’t even look at her
He wouldn’t even kiss her
Just a look of disgust as her lips approached his
He moved away

Pushed her away

She couldn’t cry in front of him
It would only make it worse
It would only make him mad
 
He was just inside her
But he couldn’t even look at her
He had come inside her
But now he didn’t want to touch her
 
He left her without a word
Without a touch nor kiss
He was angry
But he still fucked her
Only to reject her
 
The tears roll down her cheek
She cries herself to sleep
Alone
Always alone

Don't Always Believe What's On The Surface

(Post 9 of 9)

I got really good at hiding what I was going through with F. All the pain, all the sadness and fear hidden behind a smiling face. I never talked about our relationship. If I did mention it, it was always brief mentions of how much I loved him and how happy we were; issues worked through, but nothing about the threats, the jealousy nor control. No, all of it was buried deep inside of me.

No one saw the tears. No one saw the cruel words. No one saw the manipulation.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he took over every aspect of my life. I gave him my heart and he used it to break me down, to take control. He used my love against me.

I was so ashamed.

I had always been strong and independent. I thought I was strong and independent. The truth is I always give my heart freely, hoping for acceptance and love in return, only to end up in heartache. I just want someone to love me, someone to share my life with, someone to grow old with.

With every photo I posted, every positive affirmation, I was denying my reality. I was trying to wish a happy life into existence. During the "off" months, I did everything I could to move forward, to live my life. I used those affirmations to remind myself to keep going.

It was easier to fake happiness and strength rather than admit the truth. There were, of course, moments I was happy. When he would leave me alone and I stopped worrying about what he would think, what he would say. I tried to rebuild my life in those months. But then he would come back and wreak havoc. Eyes filled with tears as I rode the train home, crying myself to sleep, even my phone gave me anxiety; afraid of getting a text message from him. How would he put me down this time? What mean thing would he say? What threat would he make?

The truth is, I have always kept things buried inside me. I'm supposed to be the strong one. I'm the one that's supportive, a great listener. Very few people have ever seen me break down. I'm the one that's always there for everyone else. But who's there for me? No one. No one is ever there for me. There is no one I can count on.

So it was easy for F. I wasn't going anywhere: I had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. All I could do was put on a happy face and let the tears roll in private. Because really, that's what I've always done.

Seven Years

(Post 8 of 9)

I was with F for almost 7 years.

I stayed with him because I loved him. I stayed with him because I gave him my word and didn't want to be someone that went back on their word. I stayed with him because I didn't think I deserved more.

While writing about F, I also reflected and read over past entries about P and TexasBoy, the other two significant "relationships" of my life. Relationships is in quotations because we were never in actual relationships. I wanted to be with both of them, but they didn't want to be with me, not really be with me. They only enjoyed the sexual pleasure they received from me.

With P, with TexasBoy, with F, it was always the same...if I proved myself to them, they would want me; they would love me. I just had to try harder so they could see my worth. The outcome was always the same, they didn't want me and I ended up heartbroken.

F was an extreme case, but I do believe he loved me at one point and that's what scared him. In the beginning, things he said made it clear that he didn't think he deserved love, that he wouldn't have a happily ever after. And that made me want to show him even more that I loved him, that he had earned my love. And he just used it against me.

The more I excused and justified his behavior, the more I destroyed myself. I allowed him to destroy me. I wanted so much to be loved, to be accepted.

Towards the end with F, I had resigned myself to being alone. I would be locked into this toxic relationship with him because of my promise and the stupid tattoo. I was bound to him. He would never let me go. I still fear him reaching out, but I think I'm free from him.

For the last four years, I have been afraid to admit he was abusive; afraid to admit I was in an abusive relationship. I was so ashamed. But now, writing the words, letting this all out, gives me strength. I didn't deserve what he did to me. I didn't deserve to be threatened and made to feel like this.

When I started working out, I started to feel better about myself. Working out gave me a confidence I had lost a long time ago and I think that helped me be more defiant with him. I will never be thin, but I will be strong.

Global Pandemic

(Post 7 of 9)

When lockdown started, we got back together. Since we couldn't see each other, I did send pics to him. With the global pandemic, it was great for him because I had no reason not to obey. He let me go out for my runs, but other than that, I was home; just how he liked it. The problem arose when two months in, he did want to see me and I said no. We were in a pandemic. For my mom's sake, we were in a total lockdown; plus, I was high-risk too. He didn't like being rejected and I had to be punished again.

Throughout the year, every few months, he would check-in and get angry with me all over again.

As the year ended, I'm the one that reached out to him. Being home had taken its toll on me. My physical and mental health was suffering. I was alone. I was lonely. When I reached out to him, he took a different approach with me this time. He was calm, mature, understanding. He didn't lash out at me. He said he missed being with me. I'm the one that said it was a new year, we could start over, begin anew. I'm the one that promised to obey.

We started out slowly. He told me how much he wanted me and I wanted him too. I would close my eyes and see him. I could feel him inside of me. I was so lonely and he was the only one that could fulfill my need. He's the only one I thought about. I was his, I was always meant to be his.

He was smart about how he got me to start sending pics again. It was my idea. I sent the first one and then he asked for more...and more...and more. I was sending them daily. Did I still have the outfit he liked? A video was sent with that one. I was texting him daily, telling him how much I loved him; how happy he made me. I was his good girl again.

Until I wasn't. 

All I asked for was an acknowledgement. If I sent text or pic, especially if I sent a pic, I wanted a response, words of affirmation. When my texts were ignored, I didn't send the daily pic. In early February, this happened for a week so I stopped sending anything. He was angry and went off on me. I wasn't the same anymore, he said. I was falling back into the mood he didn't want to deal with. I was supposed to provide without question and accept what I was given. I had broken my promise.

This time I didn't reply, I didn't beg for forgiveness. I was tired. I was done.

Everything Changes

(Post 6 of 9)

So for two and a half years. we were on and off. He would be gone from my life for months at a time. When he was gone, I slowly started to rebuild my life.

I started focusing on parts of my life I could control. I was committed more than ever to my workouts and was going to the gym 5-6 times a week. I got more into planning & crafting and joined different groups. I was making new friends, new relationships.

But I always hid this part of my life. Even my closest friends didn't know.

I think Marisela had an inkling of what was going on, but she never said anything. She saw how he affected me when we went to New York. As much as I really liked New York, there was an undercurrent of sadness & anxiety the entire time we were there. He was mad at me for going and ignored all my texts while I was there. He had initially given me permission to go, but as the week approached, it became, "Who are you going to see? Who's there that you want to fuck?"

It's funny how much time he spent telling me no one else would want me and trying to brand me so no one else would want me, but then turn around and constantly accuse me of fucking someone else.

I was so ashamed. I let him do this to me. I walked right into it. I kept justifying what he was doing. He had been cheated on so of course he would have trust issues, he doesn't really want to hurt me, he really wants me otherwise why would he spend all this time on me.

In late 2018, I did end up telling my work wife about him and showed her the tattoo. It's on the side of my lower back so I just have to lift my shirt. I feel marked by the tattoo. How can I ever be with someone else having this on my body? Work wife agrees that I should look into covering it up or having it removed. She tries to remind me not to go back to him, but I've even lied to her. I've been back with him since I told her about him.

He has a sixth sense or something because he always knows when I'm happy; when I'm content with life and things are going well. That's when he'll reach out and disrupt my life. Regardless of the outcome, whether I let him back into my life or he gets angry because I still refuse to obey, however briefly he's back, it always sends my life into a tailspin.

Defiance

(Post 5 of 9)

That's what he would tell me. He would ask me if I remembered how we were in the beginning, how happy I was, how happy we were and when I would reply yes, he'd tell me it was because I obeyed back then. Back then, I behaved how he wanted me to, I did what he wanted, I satisfied him and in return, he gave me what I wanted. But now I was difficult; I disobeyed him. I was more trouble than what I was worth. I didn't give him what he wanted so he didn't give me what I wanted.

For the last two and a half years, we've been on and off. Somehow, I became defiant; refusing to do the things he wanted. He would get so mad. I wouldn't hear from him for months and when he would reach out, it was always the same.

"Who are you with? Who have you been sleeping with?"

His texts were always accusatory. I must have been sleeping with someone else. If I just admitted it, he would forgive me.

My answer was always the same. "No one." He would never believe me.

He'd want me to send pics or videos and I started refusing. I told him I wouldn't until he came to see me, but he wouldn't. I had to prove I was worthy of his attention, so he would refuse to see me. He'd say I shouldn't want to see him because I still needed to be punished; I hadn't been forgiven and I would not like my punishment. We would argue and the cycle would repeat.

For months, I wouldn't hear from him.

At first, I would still try to follow his rules, like my curfew. I was honor bound to him. I had made promises to him and I couldn't break them; I had given him my word. I had promised I would never be with anyone else. Deep inside I still had hope he would see how much I really loved him. I put up with all his threats and said I would take his punishment. Even though he constantly threatened to punish me, he wouldn't come to see me, so to me, it meant that he didn't really want to hit me; that's why he stayed away from me, he did care about me and didn't want to hurt me.

I was so messed up.

Sometimes, when he'd come back, he would be sweet; he would make promises for a new beginning and I would fall back into him. I still refused to send pics/videos, but I would follow all of his rules and demands. He would accept it at first, thinking I would start sending them eventually, but when I wouldn't, he'd get angry. Even before all of this, I didn't like sending them anymore. They didn't do anything for me. I was bored and tired of doing them day after day. What I wanted was for him to fuck me. He said I should be happy he wanted to get off to my videos instead of watching porn.

The End Was Only The Beginning

(Post 4 of 9)

Four and half years in, he said he was done with me. I had committed the ultimate betrayal. I prioritized another man over him.

One of my friends from middle school was getting married and I was invited to the wedding. It meant a lot to me and I had told F when I got the invite and kept reminding him about it. Initially, he had said I could attend, but as the wedding date approached, he wasn't so sure anymore. I couldn't understand why he wouldn't let me go. My friend is gay. He was marrying another man. Aside from family, most of the attendees were going to be gay men. I wasn't going to cheat on him with a gay man.

The week of the wedding, he put his foot down and said I couldn't go. I kept pleading and it would just anger him. So I lied. The day of the wedding, I told him I was at the gym when I was getting my hair done. Before I left the house, I sent him a quick boob shot to tie him over. While I was on the train, he wanted to see more, so I told him I wasn't feeling good and in bed. He knew I was lying. He wanted a pic and I wouldn't send him one. I was sitting in the church when he sent the last message calling me a bunch of names and saying he knew I was at the wedding. I ignored him for the rest of the night, but I was miserable inside.

The next day I admitted to going to the wedding. I didn't have anything to lose at that point. Admitting it just made things worse and while he said he was done with me, he wasn't. No, when he "broke up" with me is when everything got worse.

To be honest, it's not like I took the break up well. I cried and begged him not to leave me. I told him I would be good. I would obey. I tried explaining how much it meant to me to go to my friend's wedding. I agreed that I shouldn't have lied to him.

He double downed on all the rules. Constant check-ins. I wasn't allowed to go anywhere besides work, the gym, or family-related. He once gave me permission to go to my cousin's house in Fontana, but I had to check-in once an hour and send a naked pic each time. Do you know how embarrassing it was to have to go to the bathroom every hour in order to text him a naked pic?

I had to send him naked videos every night. I still had a curfew and the video had to be sent within an hour of getting home. He would get angry if I took too long with the video. Every morning, when I woke up I had to immediately text him a morning greeting and tell him how much I loved him.

He would reiterate that I belonged to him. He owned me and since I broke the rules, I deserved to be punished. I had to submit to be punished. He never hit me. He would just threaten to hit me. The more I "messed up," the more he threatened. If I even thought about leaving him, he threatened me. He said he would kill whomever I left him for and that he would beat me so bad I would wish he killed me. Other times he did threaten to kill me if I left.

And it was all my fault. If I had been a good girl, if I had obeyed, we would still be happy; I would still feel special and loved. His behavior was a direct result of my behavior. I was supposed to be his solace, his stress relief; I was supposed to please him.

Sex

(Post 3 of 9)

F was always very clear with me. The reason he made me his was that he liked how I fucked him. Our sexual connection was the driving force for his control and jealousy. He said he should have fucked me all those years ago. He regretted not being my first, but he was going to be my last.

As I think about it, F's love language is touch and mine is quality time. Our first two years together, we spent a lot of time together, we had a lot of sex. Despite our busy schedules, we would see each other once or twice a week. We created our own little bubble and fed into each other's love languages.

It also helped that I was completely submissive to him. I'm not talking about "Fifty Shades..." here. He was the man and I was the woman. I didn't raise my voice, I didn't talk back, I did what he wanted me to do. When texting, he insisted on proper sentences; I couldn't just reply, "yes," it had to be a complete sentence. I wore sexy clothes for him. He wanted me in thongs, so I bought thongs. He didn't like "cheeky" underwear, he wanted to see my ass. You know how they say, "A lady in the streets, a freak in the bedroom?" That's how I was to conduct myself with him.

About two and a half years into our relationship, we had our first break-up. He accused me of cheating. We both played a location-based game. I had introduced him to it and helped get him started. I was very active in the game and my username got me a lot of attention, not only because I was clearly a female, but everyone always assumed I got high too. I was really into the game and I was good. The game had a chat and as I mentioned, I got a lot of attention. Most of the time, I ignored the messages because they were teasing about getting high. As I progressed in the game, I would get messages from the opposing team members trying to get me to switch sides. F witnessed one of the exchanges and immediately texted me and accused me of flirting, saying he realized why I liked the game so much. He accused me of cheating and said it was over; he didn't answer my texts for days. Finally, a week later, he text me saying he had dreamt I was on my knees, naked and begging for his forgiveness. To take me back, I had to film myself just like his dream and send it to him. I did it. And then he still made me beg for forgiveness the next time we saw each other. As punishment, he didn't "make love" to me, he fucked me like we were in a porn movie. I felt completely humiliated and debased and I let him do it to me.

There was one other time he was angry with me. I really don't remember why he was angry; what I had done, but when we had sex, I thought we were OK. We weren't. When we had finished, I went to kiss him and he pulled away from me. The look of disgust on his face was a dagger to my heart. He had basically just angry fucked me. We were silent in the car and he still didn't kiss me when he dropped me off at home. That day was worse than the previous time when he punished me with sex.

Don't ask me why I stayed with him after both of those experiences.

I loved him. I submitted to him. Sex was fun and enjoyable for us. Sex was how we connected, both during and after. Sex was how I got into his heart.

He never said he loved me, but I felt it. And I knew when I got too close. That's when he started retreating from me. All of a sudden, it would be months without sex and the fighting would just get worse.

He made more and more demands. I had a curfew. At first, it was under the guise of his worrying about me being on the bus/train late at night, but it was really about control. He had stupid T-Mobile and it was always getting me into trouble. He would start yelling that I wasn't home or got home past my curfew because he wouldn't get my text on time. I'd have to send him the screenshot of my side to prove the time I sent it. Lyft got me into trouble too. For some reason, the Lyft app doesn't show my correct address in my ride history. It will always shows a random 5-digit house number that doesn't even exist.

He never wanted to let me go out. He wanted me to stay at home. I stopped drinking alcohol because he didn't like it. I never hid anything about my life and he knew all my stories. He knew the "Lola" stories from when I was single and we weren't even talking and he would throw them in my face. I couldn't even drink at family parties without him getting upset, so I just stopped drinking.

We'd fight because I wanted to see him more, because I wanted our relationship to move forward. He'd promise to change, to do the things I wanted. One time, he had been out drinking with his friends, and he brought up having a baby. It was shocking to me because, not only was he saying this to me drunk, but he had made it clear he didn't want kids. That's why I was on birth control, so there would be no accidents. I was so conflicted. I always wanted to be a mom, but not like this. I wanted a family and that's not what he wanted. He wanted to knock me up in order to control me. Having his baby was the ultimate form of ownership, as he saw it. His words, "no other man will want you with a kid."

When I said no to the baby, he branded me in a different way. He made me get his name tattooed on my body. Again, so no one else would want me. Only one person knew about it and I made it seem like it was a mutual decision. He was the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with so it was OK. I didn't tell her he made me get it. I didn't tell her that he wouldn't do the same for me. No, I tried to be happy about it. It was just another way to prove my love. About a year after, he threw it in my face; said it wasn't what he wanted. He also said he wanted me to get a second tattoo, in a more private area, to really brand me as his. Fortunately, I never agreed to that one.

When he stopped having sex with me, I knew there were others. He couldn't go that long without having sex. F never committed to being faithful to me. I was supposed to be faithful to him. Those first few years, I know he was faithful to me. When he stopped fucking me, I knew he was getting it elsewhere. One time I had let him know I was home and the reply text wasn't for me. The tone was different, the words were different. Honestly, it was a sweet text and it had been so long since he had been like that with me, so I knew it wasn't meant for me. I didn't reply and he knew straightaway he had messed up. He tried to say that he was having drinks with a friend and that friend had used his phone to send his gf a message and sent it to me by mistake. Why would I ever believe him? He was the most paranoid and private person I knew. He would never allow anyone to use his cell phone. By the end of the night, he was angry at me because I didn't believe him.

He only ever admitted to having sex with someone else once. He told me he felt guilty, like he cheated on me, which in his eyes, he hadn't because he was allowed to have sex with whomever he wanted. I was the one that had to be committed and faithful to him. We hadn't had sex in over a year when he confessed to his only "transgression," so we'd already been together four years.

Ups and Downs

(Post 2 of 9)

Once I was no longer the board president and my commitments to Variety were scaled back, the issues in our relationship became bigger. He became more controlling. It turned out he always had an issue with my activities. He wanted me home. If I wanted to go out, I had to ask for permission. My new job was on the west side and my commute was longer. He didn't like that. The commute wasn't easy either. Sometimes it took me 3 hours to get home in rush hour traffic from the west side. Fortunately a few months after I started over there, the new train line opened and it cut my commute time in half.

He added new rules to our relationship. Not only did I have to ask for permission to go out, I had to let him know when I left the house, when I arrived at work, when I left work, when I got home, etc. etc.

Our fights were bigger. I was accused of cheating. I couldn't really go out with male friends, unless they were gay and even then, he'd be suspicious. I was accused of trying to trap him with a baby so I had to go on birth control. Any little thing set him off. And I justified everything. I told myself I just had to show him that I wasn't like his ex; I wouldn't cheat on him. I made promises to him, promises binding myself to him to prove I loved him. I told myself that if I did what he wanted and showed him how much I loved him, he would love me back.

Instead, I just lost more and more of myself.

When we were together, I felt so special. He forced me to overcome my physical insecurities. He didn't care if I was insecure about my body, he wanted it. It turned him on to see me naked. He took pleasure in my body. I could be free with him.

I'm not going to lie, sex with F was great. I loved going down on him and he knew how to fuck. I have always enjoyed sex and been very open about my sexuality; I am a sexual being and he & I were very sexually compatible. He didn't hesitate to flip me, spread me; I'd be on top, he'd be behind me. He could get rough, but I liked it. He didn't hesitate to fuck me if I was on my period. We had oops moments and it was OK. He "trained" me to his likes. I was there to please him and he, in turn, pleased me.

My favorite moments were post-sex, when we would lie together and just talk. He was so sweet and gentle in those moments. When we were together, the world outside did not exist; it was just the two of us.

They're Never Like That In The Beginning

(Post 1 of 9)

When we started seeing each other, he admitted he thought we would just be a casual summer fling. No matter how many times I told him I wasn't seeing anyone else and that I didn't want to see anyone else, he would always tell me to make sure a couple of days had passed after being with another guy before I'd be with him. After a few months and lots of reassurance, he was satisfied I wasn't seeing anyone else and he claimed me. He said I belonged to him and only him. He cemented his "ownership" of me with sexual activities I had never done before and was only allowed to do with him.

I thought I'd walked into our relationship with eyes wide open. I knew him. I knew what he was like. It had been ten years since the last time we saw each other, but I knew what I was walking into. Did I think we would have a serious relationship? Probably not. I had always wanted to have sex with him; he was the first man I was ever sexually attracted to, remember... In fact, the first time we saw each other after all those years, we had sex. I was on my period, but he didn't care. He fucked me, anyway. And that was one of the ways he claimed me. After fucking me while on my period, he said, "Now you're mine."

The signs were there, but I still thought he had changed. While we hadn't spoken in ten years, we had mutual friends so I knew what he was up to. I knew he had had a serious girlfriend and they were living together. And I knew she had him on lockdown. My friend and I would laugh and laugh about how the tables had turned. They were together for years and she ended up cheating on him.

When we started seeing each other, it had been a couple of years since that relationship ended. He was distrustful of women and wasn't looking to settle down into a relationship, which is why he would always say to give it a couple of days before I was with him after being with another guy. In the beginning, there was no exclusivity. Once he realized we were more than just a casual summer fling, he imposed rules.

Primarily, I was to be faithful and committed to him. I was to be submissive to him.

And yes, I agreed.

You have to understand what my life was like when our relationship began. I was three months into being the board president of YV and dealing with everything that came with it. Yes, I had already spent 4 years on the board and had held officer positions, but now, it really was on me; now I was really in charge. I had more commitments to Variety as well. I had a lot on my plate. My professional life was overwhelming. Monthly board meetings for YV and Variety; I had also taken on YV International. I worked closely with the organizations Variety/YV funded, lots of events, I worked every Variety event, traveled for Variety. All of my vacation time at work went to Variety. For the first two years of our relationship, my calendar was YV/Variety.

So being in charge in my professional life was overwhelming and it felt so good to give that up in my personal life. It brought balance to my life.

We were so happy in those first two years. It's not like we didn't fight. Issues arose, but we worked through them. He never said the words, but I felt loved. I was happy. He said no one had ever made him feel the way I did. We were happy. We even talked about moving in together. I had brought it up first and he wasn't into the idea. He liked having his own space. Months later, he brought it up and we agreed to wait until I returned from Paris, but when I returned, the idea went off the table.

Things had started to change. The dynamic was different now. I was no longer president of YV. As the months of my presidency had dwindled down, he had become more insistent. When was I going to stop attending so many events. After my presidency, I moved into the advisory board. I was tired and needed a break. My VP was the new board president and we had talked about my advisory role. I told him I would always be there for him. He could call or e-mail me anytime, and if he really needed me at an event, I would be there, but I wasn't going to attend the meetings or all the events. He understood. He was my VP so he knew everything I went through with Variety and the toll it took on me.

My professional life had also taken another hit when I was laid off from work. I took unemployment as a nice break. It's not like I actually took a break because I was still president of YV and volunteering more for Variety, this time in the office. Once my unemployment run out, I was put on the Variety payroll part-time. Fortunately, right before Paris, I started working full time in my current position. Starting that full time job led to a hugely diminished role with Variety.

To recap, the first two years of my relationship with F, my professional life was extremely busy and I was in charge of a lot of things so being submissive to him in my personal life brought a much needed balance to my life.

Stuck

It's been hard. The pandemic has been hard for a lot of people. I was fortunate, privileged that getting furloughed didn't impact me as much as others. I have a roof over my head that is paid off, my sister is a lawyer and bought the bulk of the groceries, and my unemployment/savings covered my monthly bills, including the house utilities, while still allowing me to splurge on crafty items. I was also able to buy bulk groceries to keep my mom stocked.

Mentally and physically it was a different story. If you know me well, then you know I have a difficult and complicated relationship with my family. The lockdown forced us to interact and speak to one another. Pre-lockdown, I pretty much just slept here. A typical weekday had me leaving for work before anyone else got up (before 6am and twice a week before 5am) and I wouldn't get home until 10 or 11 at night. During weekends, if I didn't have training/gym, I usually had crafty events to attend, so I still left the house early and came back late evening.

But with lockdown, I was here all day, every day. Even with not working, I didn't have an issue keeping myself busy. Growing up, my mom was strict with me, even firing nannies for suggesting she let me go outside and play with other kids on the block. So I learned early on how to entertain myself. My brother was working from home and he didn't do well with the lockdown. He drove us crazy rearranging the house. My sister finally put a stop to it when he was moving things around the kitchen that didn't make it easy for mom at all and it delayed dinner. He sulked for a couple of days, but then focused on other parts of the house. When he went in on my craft stuff, I had a meltdown and locked myself away in my room and I'm still here.

I went from working out 5-6 days a week to nothing. I tried at-home workouts, but then my brother took over the backyard. Plus, they didn't feel the same. My walks at the park didn't do anything for me either, so I started running. As hard as it was, it was exhilarating and almost comparable to my gym workouts. But my hips did not enjoy them and even with post-run stretching, I would still limp for the almost mile walk home and sitting down/standing was painful. I started applying multiple salon pas patches to my hips and lower back just to get through a run. After the meltdown with my brother and locking myself away, I stopped running and all physical activity.

I was supposed to go back to work last September, but it didn't happen. Then it was January, and nope, not yet. I'm still not back to work. Others are, but without a solid release schedule and box office grosses, they can't bring everyone back, so I am still stuck at home. As each day passes and there is no word, I fall deeper into despair. I wanted to go back to work and let my finances stabilize, build my savings back up a little before switching jobs, but it looks like I should start looking for a new job now. I am so disillusioned with my boss and company that I just don't think I can go back there. I honestly just wish they would let me go and make things easy. That way they would also have to pay out my accrued vacation and when COVID hit, I was at 139 hours. A nice chunk to add to my savings.

Once I was fully vaccinated, my plan was to start going to the gym. I have gone, but am struggling to keep going. I don't have the motivation to do anything. I want to, but I can't get myself up to do it. I'm stuck.