Occasionally a lingering thought comes up in my head if I am going to be an abusive relationship again, whenever something sparks that memory.
No I am not one of those man-hating feminist, in fact I still have many male friends that I sometimes share an intimate moment or too. Many of them try their best to treat me with respect and with tender loving care. I probably love men more today, than I have in my younger years of high school and college. Well getting back to my story as to why I occasionally have some fears and anxiety is due to some abusive relationships with men that seem to take joy in being sadistic. I too enjoy a little pain every now and than, if you know what I mean but not to the extent of where I am being held against my will.
It all started one faithful afternoon, when me and my husband were outside. Well I suppose, I should start with what happened earlier that Friday we were out shopping at Tiffany’s and I was picking out some new jewelry. Every once in a while he likes to splurge on me after I give him a special delivery at his work office, under his desk. He worked as a lawyer in a high profile firm, but the stories I could tell you there would make you wonder if it was more of a brothel, than anything. Anyways we always liked to do things out in public, you know like in the changing rooms and at various high class clubs. What can I say, I guess I got bored of doing the same things over and over again; it really created a flame in our relationship.
Ever since his work load at the office was increasing, he started to increase his drinking habits. To a point where he was drunk every weekend, I would not mind if he was a happy drunk but unfortunately he inherited the genes of an angry one. Probably stemming from the Indian tribe he was a part of the Apaches, I think they were pretty wild back then. All I know is he is pretty wild in bed but when he is drunk, he get’s a little too friendly with his hands. Occasionally slapping me a little too hard or pulling on my hair a bit too much. Outside of the bed is when things got worse, he would throw punches because he was upset, not at me but at work. But sometimes I would get in the crossfire of the punches and almost went to the hospital one time.
I guess you could say that I kind of felt bad for him and understood his pains. I just did not know what to do or who to go to. So one day I just picked up everything and left. That is when things got real crazy and he started to go to all of the places that I usually hang out at, saying that he was sorry etc. I told him one day I had enough and to never contact me again. Well he got so mad that he almost destroyed a music box. Needless to say, I thought it would stop but he kept looking for me and getting more aggressive with his methods, like hiring investigators and hiring friends. So I decided to change my identity and have been on the run ever since, running from someone chasing after a dream. As I try to stay calm and poke fun at the situation.