Warning: this section contains graphic descriptions of childhood emotional and sexual abuse; adulthood sexual aggression through verbal and emotional coercion, blackmail through threats of suicide, and sexual assault through the use of physical force; unidirectional and reciprocal abuse; depression; suicide attempts; prostitution; and language barriers between a patient and a psychiatrist and between a victim of intrusion and the local police contributing to a sexual assault.
I wanted to sleep in her living room and then on the floor next to her bed, but she refused both. I ended up sleeping on my side of her bed that night in my day clothes, feeling angry and manipulated but emotionally unable to resist her ardent wish that I stay the night. Before I left her home early to go to my place to shower and prepare for college the next day, she made me promise that I’d return to her place that evening. Her reaction to my having purposely violated her boundaries confused me since it conflicted with what I’d always been taught about how a woman was supposed to react to a man violating her boundaries.
That day after school, I dreaded returning to her place but felt obliged to keep a promise since that’s how I was raised. I returned in the hope that I could just eat a quick supper there and then return home. She again pressured me to stay the night; I again became emotionally paralyzed; I again made a sexual advance in the hope that she’d relieve me of her request; she again pushed me away only sexually but still insisted that I stay the night; I again tried to sleep in the living room and then on the floor next to her bed; she again refused; I again slept on my side of her bed in my day clothes; and she again made me promise the next morning to return to her home that evening. This same cycle repeated itself for close to a week before I had a meeting to attend one Friday evening. After the meeting, I returned to my home, phoned her, and told her that it was too late to go to her place that night. She begged me to go anyway and so I obeyed. I was too tired to bother trying to resist so when I arrived, we just went to sleep. The next morning, I told her I wanted to go home to do some chores and she decided to accompany me there to know where I lived and help me with my chores. Since she insisted, I acquiesced.
That evening, I considered walking her home but feared that she’d then beg me to stay the night again; so I cooked her supper at my place instead. My apartment was far more spartanly furnished than hers and with a much smaller bed too. In fact, it was a camping mattress and a sleeping bag in a bachelor apartment and we sat on the floor to eat. I didn’t think that it would be particularly comfortable for two people and so thought it would deter her from staying the night.
After supper, I reminded her that it was getting late and that she might want to go home early since it would be safer for her that way (even though we didn’t live in a particularly dangerous city). She invited me to walk her home. I told her that it was getting late, that I was tired, and that it might be better that I stay; so she decided to stay too. Though my tactic had never worked on her yet, I made an unwanted sexual advance towards her again in the hope that, considering the Spartan furnishing of my home, she’d push me away and decide to go home alone.
She resisted only minimally. Had I been at her home, I could have broken it off at the first sign of resistance and tried to leave then; but since she was at my home and I just didn’t have the fortitude to kick her out or call the police on her (especially given her precarious status in Canada), I decided to proceed further in the belief that she’d reach a limit at some point before she’d push me away and leave on her own. It went on with minimal resistance until I’d gone far beyond my own expectations and had removed her pants and then mine. With her still offering minimal resistance and no indication of wanting to leave alone and with me not knowing what else to do and still convinced that she must have a limit, I continued on to remove her underwear and then mine after which I began to spread her legs. That’s when she softly said “please don’t rape me.” I recoiled, threw my clothes back on and stormed out of my own home into the night infuriated without locking the door. Even then I still couldn’t bring myself to kick her out of my home. I’d dressed and left so fast that I only heard her calling behind me once I’d already reached the intersection on foot. I didn’t have a particular destination in mind other than away from her. I just wanted to walk or run fast since I couldn’t sleep with all that anger without first reaching exhaustion.
She eventually caught up to me and apologized. Still infuriated and moist-eyed, I told her that we were in an unhealthy relationship and that it was time to break it off.
With tears in her eyes, she begged me to walk her home. Feeling guilty about what I’d just done to her, I went back to my place with her to lock the door, walked her home and stayed the night at her place again.
The next night, the usual cycle repeated itself yet again. I tried to leave but she resisted and so I made another sexual advance towards her. I was no longer sure if it was in the hope that she’d let me go home alone or if it was now just out of habit even though I still didn’t want to have sex with her.
I considered raping her to teach her a lesson, to make her fear or at least hate me, though I knew that I’d feel guilty about it afterwards and that it could backfire even more if I got her pregnant. Besides, if I couldn’t even resist her insistence that I stay by her side, how would I resist a plea to stop raping her? I didn’t even have that in me. That was my first experience of seriously considering whether I wanted to rape someone, and it was also how I learned how rape might be an expression of rage. That thought scared me. Did I really have it in me under the right conditions to rape a woman?
Another part of me hoped that the experience of the previous night combined with my renewed advance might make her fear or at least hate me enough to let me go. She didn’t resist at all this time, so I broke off to leave without removing any clothes before she then approached me, hugged and kissed me and then started to tearfully beg me to stay as I pleaded for her to let me leave.
Since this had come after well over a week of daily struggle between us, I was emotionally too exhausted to resist and the orgasm served to relieve the stress, however temporarily. Though I’d already been using compulsive masturbation and pornography to cope with stress in my childhood home (though I’d quit at least the pornography after leaving the military), I was now using emotionally-detached sex devoid of love as an analgesic to cope with the trauma of my new relationship. This was the next stage in the devolution of my use of sex as a mere coping mechanism, just another drug to medicate myself with to help me cope with the stresses of life.
It was the beginning of a dreadful sexual relationship. Though I was still questioning my faith, I still considered the possibility of God’s existence and felt guilty after each act. She felt guilty too. It was a depressing relationship in which neither of us truly wanted sex, she giving it presumably to keep me in the relationship and me reciprocating out of depression and resignation.