It was a beautiful July Friday and I was looking forward to getting off work. The week had been very hectic and busy and boring and long, which made it seem like it was never going to end. I couldn’t stop picturing the evening with a huge grin, it looked to be great one.
Finally, I was off work and the excitement for the evening climaxed with every hour. I checked my phone to find that I had a missed call from my boyfriend. I got a bit gloomy that I missed the call but then there was a voice message and he said he was looking forward to seeing me tonight and spending the weekend with me.
It was our four-month anniversary, not that I was counting. Even though we had not clearly defined things, there was a silent understanding between us that this was becoming a relationship and I was liking him more. The signs were all there, signs that this was not my kind of man; like him asking me to iron his clothes, clean his house, and cook for him. Not that I would have minded but it was the tone in which he said it, like I was his help and there would be no inkling of gratitude after I did them. One moment he says I am fat and should lose weight, the next he says I am just perfect. ” Please be sure to not break the treadmill” , that was one of the many comments he would make when I said I was going to the gym, he thought it was funny. The signs were always there, I just chose not to see them, I think.
I guess I ignored the signs because he agreed we were going to be celibate. I had saved it before for religious reasons and later, the saving was for the theories of the one. You know, THE ONE. I never quite did meet him but having had a prior relationship where that boundary was respected and never crossed probably left me naïve.And so, I never thought spending the weekend at his was endangering myself.
I got dressed in sleek jeans , a plaid shirt and ballerina shoes. I had my hair in my favorite up do, swept to the right side with peekaboo earrings. I looked in the mirror and murmured to myself ” darn girl, you are too pretty for your own good”. With that, I picked up my already packed weekend bag and purse and headed out to what was supposed to be a perfect weekend.
I got to his apartment at about 7 pm. I dropped my bags and as planned, we headed out for the evening. He was shopping for shoes for a cousin’s wedding he had to attend in New York in a few days, so we made several stops at a nearby mall and three DSW’s where he finally found it. It was 9:45 by the time we were done and continued the night to a restaurant. It was my first time at that particular one, I think it was called Ocean’s. It was neat and airy. The white-cloth-covered-tables were adorned with beautiful white roses. There were happy people everywhere, going in and out. We were seated in a corner with my back to the wall and him to isle. He looked happy as I was, happy to be there, with me. We ordered and talked, our food came, we ate, we talked and we laughed. I was a bit tipsy after two glasses of wine (it gets to me easily and he was the designated driver, so he had sweet tea). It was a perfect evening, just what I had pictured. I was liking this guy more.
We left the restaurant some time after 11pm and didn’t make it back to his apartment until past 12. I did my usual night ritual and went off to bed, he said he had to finish some office work. I could see him from the room on his computer but slowly, I was drifting off. This was the second time I was spending the weekend with him at his.
The kiss was gentle, warm and passionate but each one was more needy than the last. His thirst was increasing with every caress and he was beginning to touch me in places that felt uncomfortable. His breaths were heavier now and he seemed restless and needing more with each touch, each kiss and caress. I felt something heavy on my chest at the same time I felt my pajamas pants being torn away from me. I awoke to find my boyfriend on top of me.
I am not sure what is going on but I know I don’t like how I am feeling. I try turning and I am locked under his straddling thighs. My eyes are getting so huge like they are about to pop out of their socket and watery all at once. My heart is racing at 100 miles an hour and my body is doing some gymnastics I never knew it could. I am trying to understand why my boyfriend is staring at me like a lion admiring the catch it is about to feast on but nothing makes sense. I am trying to talk to him but the words aren’t coming out. I am screaming I think but I can’t hear myself. His hand is over my mouth and I think I see his mouth shape into a sshhhhh sound.
“Please don’t do this, you are hurting me, Eric stop, please stop, please stop”. I think I am screaming those words at him but why isn’t he listening. His eyes turn dark, I don’t remember seeing the whites anymore and his face filled with determination. He yanks my panties from me. I begin shivering, no, I think I am having a seizure. My body is ripped apart I can feel it, there is a deep wound and someone keeps turning a knife inside it. The wound is getting deeper and deeper and the pain is excruciating. I am soaked in tears, sweat and blood, i think.
My whole body aches, my head, my arms, the wound. The seizure has run its course and the gymnastics has reduced. My body isn’t responding to me anymore. I am instructing it to fight, to fight till the end. Wait, it’s the end. The weight is off my body but the aches are getting worse. I lay there still. I have nothing left. There is nothing left to do but sob.
Twenty four years of waiting, first for God, then for God to show me the one, all of it gone. Gone in a violent instant. This is not how I envisaged my first time, it was supposed to be special. He was supposed to love me and cherish it as I had. He was supposed to love me. He was my boyfriend. How could he love me and yet do that to me.
He was in the bathroom for all of two minutes after his great conquest. He gets back in bed. He is at the far end now, I am inconsolable and he doesn’t attempt. Instead he says ” so because I made love to you, that’s why you are crying?” . That was my cue to leave. I had no idea what time it was but one thing was sure, I didn’t know who this monster was and I had to get out, and get out fast. The signs were always there, I just chose not to see them.
DISCLAIMER: I am not accusing Bill Cosby neither I am insinuating he is guilty nor do I know of his innocence. Just sharing my experience at the hands of someone who I thought “loved” me.