The Dynamic

TW: DV, Sexual Violence - I was virginal in many ways. I’d only been in one serious relationship and not much else...

I was virginal in many ways.

I’d only been in one serious relationship and not much else.

I thought I was going to get married and part of marriage involved sex.

And I didn’t want past trauma to define that part of my life so when my first ex said “well we’re going to get married” I pushed aside my boundaries, boundaries I didn’t know how to set yet.

At thirty-four, after the past couple of years of the Covid pandemic hidden in my parent’s village I wanted a full vibrant life.

Earl told me that if I was out of practice kissing we’d have to remedy that when we saw each other three days from now. I thought about the date I’d planned. A walk in the city center. It would be dark and cold. I baked cookies to bring with me, his birthday was days after we’d first meet.

If things went well, I could invite him over for milk and cookies.

If something more happened he’d already told me that his longest relationship had been with someone he’d slept with on the first night.

I couldn’t see the manipulation in him saying that at the time.

I told Mae about him. When I was little and she was in her mid-twenties she was often at our place on the canal de la Villette in Paris. Hanging out with mom in the kitchen while she made her tamale pie with a polenta base. A taste of home for Mae who loved Mexican food but couldn’t stand what the French call Tex Mex.

In her fifties now, she’s been there for every first in my life from choosing my first lip gloss shade to making sure the guy I had my first time with wasn’t taking advantage. I trusted her the way I trusted the north star would guide me home.

On the evening of the date Mae called and we pre-gamed. Wear perfume! She said. Then she told me my plan was fine. “You’re a woman, if you ever change your mind, don’t feel guilty just because he came all this way. Fuck his feelings!” she said “Go on,” she prompted.

“Fuck his feelings!” I said laughing at how loud I said it.

I could change my mind at any time. I could say ‘no’, I could also choose to say ‘yes.’ I could speak up, I had a voice and could use it.

The waiter switched our kebabs so I tried the sauce he said was the best. It’s called biggy burger and tasted like tartar sauce.

Earl’s not a shy person. He told me about his favorite memory. Winning a big soccer game.

“I could’ve gone pro if my dad hadn’t insisted on me getting a good education.”

As we walked up the street. I told myself I’ll see what happens tonight.

Warmth permeated me as we sat and ate his birthday cookies with the ice cold milk we bought on the way to my place. He said snickerdoodle was a funny name, leave it to Americans to come up with something that sounds like a dog breed.

I laughed.

Earl had us both fill out a three column list. Short-term, mid-term, and long-term. He said to list seven to ten elements we wanted our relationship to have. Our long term goals dovetailed nicely with marriage, children. I put living together in the long-term column which he put in his mid-term column.

Then we both sat in awkward silence until he broke it with a bold.

“So are we gonna start kissing or what?”

I motioned for him to come to me but soon wound up in his lap. His lips were soft and he tasted of something core human like blood. His lashes were lovely and long just as I noticed while we ate our kebabs. Up close, they fanned down and curled slightly. Women paid for lashes like his.

I remembered what happened next in snatches. I wanted to stop but was so overwhelmed I just held on as best I could. He started to choke me and I said ‘no.’ Twice. I remembered that. My ‘no’ hadn’t meant anything, and sparked the fear-knowledge that he could override my boundaries at a moment’s notice.

It all happened so fast and so hard that most everything blurred until I was alone in bed trying to understand what had just happened.

I heard the toilet flush.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t tell me you were a virgin.” he spat dismissively.

“I’m not.” I said. I may have been inexperienced but I wasn't an eternal teenage girl.

“Well, there’s blood, so.”

It didn’t occur to me that he’s the reason why.

I just knew it hurt to sit. Soon he’s in bed beside me holding me close, and that’s all that mattered. The only thing that mattered now was his warmth, how he almost draped himself over me.

The dynamic of our relationship was set.

He established his dominance and used my craving for affection and connection as a way to reward or punish me for my submission or lack thereof.

In the morning I watched him sleep and I felt something in my chest crack open with a warm hope that made me feel like the luckiest girl in the world. I got out of bed and decided to grate potatoes for hash-browns.I forgot to pre-cook them in the microwave and they turned black and burned. The acrid smoke filled the room. Earl was up now. I made scrambled eggs with cream and thyme and handed him his plate in bed.

“Thanks,” he said taking a bite

“These are good, is that thyme?”

“Yep.” I beamed.

“Well, thanks, I wouldn’t have done the same for you.” He laughed.

If I could go back I’d tell myself to run.

To save myself from all the fear and pain.

To spare myself the abuse that continues long after I ended things with him.

I’d tell myself not to be ashamed to leave after having told the world I’d finally found a good man when he turned out to be abusive.

It’s never too soon to leave!

I would have screamed at the lost, confused girl I’d become.

But you can’t look at the situation with the eyes you have now.

You can only learn to use new eyes to see your present, to build a life you love.

Forgive yourself for enduring what you were trapped in.

For doing what you had to survive.

And remember you got yourself out.