What was your first relationship like?

As I am thinking back and trying to remember everything that had happened, my heart and head hurt at everything I did wrong. I feel horrible. I’m doubting whether I should even do this anymore. I’m questioning whether this is therapeutic and freeing or whether I am picking at an old wound, never letting it fully heal. At the same time, I feel like I should be comfortable talking about this. I should use my story I guess I’ll just go for it & if I don’t finish, then I don’t finish. Okay, here goes…

How it began: He was one of my sister’s best friends, so we spent a lot of time together. We started talking more. He opened up to me about the relationship he was currently in. We grew closer, naturally, and he realized that he liked me. However, he was still in a relationship with a friend, and I wasn’t interested. I never saw myself dating in high school and knew it wasn’t practical or realistic, especially if I wanted my relationship to last for…well, forever. But I was also in this phase of my life where I was afraid I wasn’t taking as many risks and living life to the fullest, because I was scared of the consequences. I actually don’t remember everything that had happened, but it reached a point where I convinced myself that a relationship with him was what I wanted and what was good for me and what was right, considering all of the emotions he had felt. I know, I know…I shouldn’t engage with a person based off of their feelings for me, but I remember thinking, “Wow! This person really, really cares about me.” And, in some twisted way, it felt wrong for me to reject and turn that away, because there were so many people wanting it. I felt lucky to have that, I guess you could say. That said, there were countless red flags for me to get away as far as possible and to protect myself from people like him. But I thought that I should forgive and that a friendship or any relationship should not be thrown away. I believed in the best in everyone and gave people the benefit of the doubt. I was naive. I was young. I was wrong. We started dating almost immediately after he broke up with his now ex-girlfriend, and of course, there were rumors. I wish more friends had come talked to me about it and were honest with what they thought. I wish more people had spoken up and talked to me about what a stupid mistake I was making. I wish people who knew him more fully than I did told me what an asshole he was.

How it was: The relationship was terrible. He really wanted to be physical with me and was the typical hormonal teenage boy, only interested in sex. I now know that he should have wanted to get to know me more, but to be honest, I don’t think that there was much to know back then. I wasn’t a very interesting and deep thinker, though I definitely thought I was. He would watch porn and masturbate at least once a day. He would tell me that when he was physical with me and we did stuff together that it would stop him from masturbating that day, which I wanted him to stop doing, so I complied. And, to be completely honest, I didn’t absolutely hate it. It made me feel attractive and loved, and it felt good. I also kept convincing myself that it was okay, because we weren’t having sex. And we weren’t, in any way, shape, or form. We never did, and that’s something that I can say with some dignity. Yet, I knew that it was wrong. I knew that that’s not what a relationship should be about. What I didn’t know was what to do. I asked him multiple times if we could not anymore, but whenever we were alone, we would always end up topless and mouths and hands everywhere. He definitely pushed for us to go further and further throughout our relationship. He would put his hands in places, and he would take my hand and put it places. He once told me that it was a goal of his for me to give him a blowjob within a year. Again, another red flag. But I stayed because I wanted to make it work, so that everything that happened wouldn’t have been a waste. Because then I wouldn’t have to go to another person, dirty and touched. Because then all the sacrifices and compromises I made would have been worth it. He also put me in situations where I had to lie to my parents. And I guess it was also my own sinfulness and the temptation that caused me to do so. He also lied to me multiple times. And about the stupidest things. But I always thought of myself as someone who stuck through the difficult times, someone who didn’t give up on anybody. I feel taken advantage of and stupid. We fought endlessly, because we were just so completely different. Our logic was very different. The ways we approached life and the various situations it presented were different. We just didn’t make sense. At all. Looking back, I still wonder whether it was an abusive relationship. And if I were honest, it was. It definitely was.

The aftermath: We dated for about six months. At the end, I read a letter I wrote to him that asked him to think about whether this was really what he wanted. I knew I was not capable (or strong enough?) to break up with him, so I had to convince him to do it, because it was what I really wanted. So he did. He ended it. He was leaving for college, and that was that. We tried the whole “being friends” thing. Didn’t work, but you didn’t need me to tell you that. He made so many promises at the end that aren’t even worth bringing up anymore, but he predictably began dating another girl within a few months. They broke up within another few months, because, of all the reasons, his church at the time. After we broke up, I felt embarrassed and relieved. I remember my first thought was, “Okay, good. I don’t need to get him a birthday present.” I was honestly fine. I knew that it was bad, and it just felt like waking up from nightmare. I still can’t believe it actually happened. For two years, I battled with the repercussions of it all. People pried. I slowly regained people’s and my own respect. I rebuilt myself. And I kept it all in, because I knew that no one would understand. During my first semester in college, I friended him on Facebook and started a conversation to just talk to him and see how he was doing. I’m not going to pretend that it didn’t make me feel a little better knowing that he’s still his douchey self (he called me “hun” and asked for my Snapchat and wanted to talk to me on the phone because he “hadn’t heard my voice in a while”) and that he knows what he lost (he asked if there was a chance for us to get back together). I do hope that he figured himself out and that he finds God. I hope that his life becomes better and that he fully recognizes his mistakes.

I also hope that writing this is going to help me forget and that my story helps someone one day. I think it already has, in many ways.