real life experience

A weekend circus and consent

It was clear when I got his text that my plans for a quiet weekend tidying up and getting things packed was not really going to happen. If you’d asked me whether I liked surprises I’d say yes, especially if that involves stuff that I like doing, horse riding, swimming…. no this was a surprise visit from M. There I was thinking this had died a natural death and I was grateful for the lack of drama. I spoke too soon and then he was at my door.

I’d told him I needed space and was holding tight to my purse strings because I feel the need to save as much as possible for the year ahead and yet he had come with no food and no money much like usual. He wants to be entertained. I felt invaded and overwhelmed by his loud manner and childlike antics and put off from his lack of empathy and understanding to my situation. I asked him what we are going to do about the food he says we could go shoplifting…. anyone who knows me can imagine the look of horror on my face. Never. He can go shoplifting I certainly do not want to do that. I have no qualms with asking shops if they’re throwing something away but I’d never steal. To make things worse he injures himself at the skate park and is only able to hobble around. I ask him if he wants to sleep in the spare room or whether he wants to share, he wants to share of course. I can already see where this is going and I’m dreading the conversation we’re about to have.

Sex.

He wants sex with me and I don’t want it. I feel like this whole visit is just stressing me out. He feels rejected, I feel that I’m at the end of my patience. We both feel I guess put off by the whole thing. He sulks and tries to stay calm the only way he knows. He tries to guilt me into it saying he has physical needs. Sure. Thanks. So do I, hence why I have a little pink friend so avoid situations such as this one. When he wants to masturbate I leave the room. He doesn’t like that either. This is now a slippery slope we’re on. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. When he asks me what I want I tell him once again, I need space and rest. I am in no position to give anything to this relationship if I don’t take care of myself first. He thinks that’s selfish, interpreting love as pleasing the other. That should be qualified as only if it pleases you. If it doesn’t please me to please you then the relationship is doomed. I am not about to give him my body if I don’t want to. Neither should I have to explain this to a grown man. What sort of love is this that demands an already overstretched lover to go beyond breaking point. I refuse once more. I try to explain but he will not listen. He asks me if I only do what I want to do then what should I do with your refusal? There’s nothing to do but accept it. Suddenly it dawns on him that he’s wasting his time. He wants to go home. I resist my urge to interfere with this decision. He is responsible for making his own decisions, if he wants to leave so be it.

Leaving him at the station was somehow a relief, tears well in my eyes as I drive away. I’d realised then there was nothing left of this relationship, I had no desire to talk to or see him again. I cry because I had let this immature tumultuous personality disrupt my good state of mind, I hadn’t been assertive enough to say no when he text me. When he admonished me and filled my space with his loudness I had not walked away. When was I going to learn?

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