Love In A Thousand Different Flavours I Wish That I Could Taste Them All Tonight No, I Ain’t Got No Dinner Plans

After W was killed, months had passed since the funeral and I had had multiple conversations with myself about “moving on”. One week I particular I found my thoughts constantly dwelling on things like ‘was I ready’, and if I was how would I even meet someone new?!? I no longer went to the club/pub/bars, and my circle of friends had been drastically reduced since the previous summer when I was raped by M and quit the job where we had both worked, and a lot of my friends worked as well. I kinda cut them all out of my life and wanted a hundred percent fresh start, without anything to remind me of M, and that basically left me with only W, until he was killed and I was left with no one. So I had a new apartment downtown (I had obviously moved out of the apartment M&A and I were going to share) I literally had like zero friends, all of my own doing, and a recently deceased boyfriend, and I was 20 years old and had to start fresh.

I had no clue about how I was going to do it. And one week it was really on my mind a lot. So I had decided I was going to make a move and go out that Friday night, on my own, dancing. So it was maybe Wednesday or Thursday and I went to the mall on my day off after work to find something new to wear for the club. I was there for maybe an hour or so and honestly wasn’t feeling it and decided to head home thinking I could always try again next week, considering it’s not like I would let anyone down by not going, I had only made plans with myself anyways.

So I was walking out to my car in the mall parking lot when a man came up to me. And I’ll be real, I don’t really remember how the conversation went but the jist of it was he worked out of town, as a lot of people do in our city, and just needed a place to chill for a few days, so could he stay with me.

Now any ‘normal person would scream hell no and beeline for safety, but nope, not me. I thoughtfully considered this very attractive man before me and instead of just straight out saying no, I made some lame excuses about living in a bachelor suite and only having one bed. I thought maybe this was the universes way of helping me get over W, since I’d been thinking about it for a while now. And that’s when his pickup game became even stronger cause he pulled out something like ‘oh we’ll just have to share a bed then’ and somehow within about 1-2 minutes of literally seeing him for the first time, I agreed to let him stay a couple days with me knowing full well I would sleep with him once he got to my place. I honestly took it as a sign. I wanted to make a move to get out and meet new guys and here was one right in front of me… sometimes you just have to go with the flow.

I for real can’t even remember his name, so we’ll just call home John Doe or JD. But JD was the second guy I ever slept with. And yes he was 100% a rebound or recovery or whatever you want to call him, but he helped me get over the loss of W… maybe. Probably not. I still think what if W was still around so maybe I’m not completely over him, but are we ever?

Anyways, I gave JD my address and we met later at my apartment. We hung out almost every spare moment over the next probably 4-5 days. He took me to the hottest Jamaican restaurants in town and then every night we hit up a different dance hall/party that was going on in and around the city. JD seemed to have the know with everything. He had all the hookups and best connections, he also seemed to have the money for everything. Made me wonder why he didn’t want to stay at a hotel, but hey, I didn’t ask those kind of questions, I had my own selfish reasons for chilling with him, so I didn’t mind how much money he spent on me.

Anyways by the time the weekend neared the end, JD had to head back to work and I was ready to ‘get back out there’ again. JD was a fun time, a very much needed escape, and boy had he taught me a thing or two in bed! I guess having sex with someone over double your age and a heck of a lot of experience will do that! But he made me realize that there are so many experiences out there waiting for me. And also that it’s totally possible for a man to treat you with kindness and respect for a few days, even knowing he won’t benefit in the long term from it. But just because your a woman and he’s a man.

We both entered into that week knowing it would only be a few days, yet he treated me like a queen. He didn’t try to hide me from anyone or anything. We went to house parties and he would introduce me around and gladly make sure I was comfortable with a drink and that I wasn’t creeped on all night. He bought groceries for my place, and would make the bed every morning (something I don’t even do tbh). I’m just saying, he could’ve been a complete dick, but instead acted like a gentleman and gave me hope about getting back out there. He made me believe that, yep, it would be worth it one day.
So JD, even though you were 46 years old and picking up chicks in the mall parking lot, you’re lucky you’re SOO fine or else I would’ve left you there, but also thanks for making my first experience into the fwb world decent and memorable.

Or maybe no thanks to you? Maybe if you had been awful I would’ve gave up more easily and wouldn’t have messed around with so many men after you in search of “Mr. Right”

Either way, JD, your bold parking lot antics paved the way for many more men over the next decade to come.

May they forever be in debt to you.

-Jason Derulo/Swalla-

I Don’t Ever Wanna Feel Like I Did That Day, Take Me To The Place I Love, Take Me All The Way

When I was 19, my body was used for the first time in ways that changed me forever.

I was really good friends with this one couple, A and M. We worked together, we went out dancing every weekend together. I was even planning on moving in with A in a few weeks because she wanted a break from living with her boyfriend M for now ( I know, who moves in and than out of their boyfriends house? Whatever, she was my friend and I need a new roomie). So when A went out of town to Big Valley, M joined my boyfriend W and I on Friday night at our go to club and it was dancing like normal. At the end of the night I drove my boyfriend home and then took M to his and A’s place. I had previously planned to spend the night there since we both had a work meeting early the next morning that I was going to drive us too.

They lived on the ground floor of an apartment building so when we walked up to the patio doors, his neighbors were out having drinks with the music blaring. We said our hi’s and headed on inside. M poured drinks for us and turned something on the tv, I can’t remember what. I just remember sitting on the couch having my first drink of the night, it was about 1 in the morning, and thinking I have to be at work at 8:30 and how much it sucks, and also how loud the neighbors music was that I could barely hear myself think.

And then outta nowhere, M leaned over and kissed me. Wooh, no! Oh common C, just a little bit, I’ve been wanting this for so long. Why do you think A is moving out? We’re not doing good. She knows I love you.

WHATTT?

Ummm… No! I have a boyfriend and we’re doing just fine thank you very much. I’m truly sorry things aren’t working out for you guys but I’m not interested. I should leave. I went to stand up to go and that’s when my life changed. M grabbed me from behind and threw me on the floor before I even knew what he was doing. That’s when I started screaming. And hitting and biting and kicking… anything I could do to try and stop this. But M was bigger. And stronger. And a man who should’ve known better. He was on top of me straddling me in no time. Telling me he loved me, and that it was ok. Trying to kiss me. I kept screaming, but the music from next door was drowning out my calls for help. He dragged me by my elbow and hair down the hall to the spare room, where he literally picked me up like a rag doll, threw me on the bed and locked the door. He ripped my pants off and shoved his fingers in my vagina, talking about how much he loved me, and needed me. I’m frantically screaming and pushing away. He kept trying to kiss me until I threw up on the bed and he didn’t care. He just took his dick and shoved it in me. Over and over while I kicked and screamed and cried.

I had things inside my body that I didn’t want. I was used as a toy and degraded. I was humiliated and felt defeated. I had only had sex with one other man, my current boyfriend W before this, and I felt like I had betrayed him. I wanted someone to rush in and save me. I wanted time to stop. I wanted to die.

But instead he finished, and rolled over and slept. I managed to move off the other side of the bed to the floor. I was covered in vomit, blood, tears, snot, and semen. And I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t even cry anymore. All I could do was listen to the music from next door and the stupid sound of the caged mice on the desk. They were like me. Locked in a room. Running on their wheel. We both just wanted to get away. All night. Those mice were the only witnesses to what had happened, and to this day, seeing a mouse brings back every evil moment of that night. To the point I bought a snake so I could feed it live mice every week just to watch them die. Morbid? Yep. Helpful? Very.

I finally got my act together and snuck out about an hour or so later and drove straight to my boyfriend W’s place, where I told him what happened. He handled it so amazingly. He helped me shower and get into bed. He called work the next morning informing them I was unable to attend due to a family emergency. He offered advice, but never told me what I should do. He came with me to the clinic to get tested for all those wonderful STI’s. And he held me. He just held me. I never cried about it after the fact, and W understood that. But he still knew that I wanted to be held and feel safe. And he always did that for me. He never got mad when I said I didn’t want to press charges. I told him I didn’t want to have to be dealing with M or the whole situation for however many months/years to come, considering we worked together and everyone knew us both at work. I basically just wanted to pretend it never happened. Denial, its what I do, that’s how I operate. And W was ok with whatever I wanted. He recommended certain things that were best for me for sure. But never pushed me into something I wasn’t comfortable with.

Unlike some “men” who think if they say “I love you” then they can fuck you no matter what.

-Red Hot Chili Peppers/Under the Bridge-

Nobody Said It Was Easy. No One Ever Said It Would Be This Hard

I’d like to say that once I got back to Canada things got better fast. But that would be a complete lie. It was hard. There were so many stressful factors I didn’t even consider when thinking the whole “leave E” thing through.

My parents let us stay with them for which I am so very grateful for. Plus my parents were SO happy to have their grandkids back from Kenya for good. We figured out a reasonable rent amount, and each of us had our own room downstairs in the house I grew up in. It was nice to have built in babysitters with my parents but to be honest I never really went out. So most nights it was me watching TV in between my parents on the couch. So very cool, I know.

It took us about a week to get settled and over the jet lag. We took many trips to Value Village and Goodwill (thrift shops) to outfit the kids with winter clothes and a few toys. Considering we had just moved from +30 degree weather to February in Canada (like minus a zillion) it’s an understatement to say we were underdressed and ill prepared.

I was still officially on maternity leave with Z so that helped financially for a bit, but I had huge credit card bills to pay off mainly from flights, E’s most recent one to and from work included, so I had to think about what I was going to do to support my kids. I had 3/4’s of my teaching degree already under my belt, but at this time I really didn’t feel like it was my thing. I figured if I was going to go back to school anyway, I might as well make sure it was something I was really wanting.

So I started taking multiple personality tests to see what kind of traits I had and which jobs they matched well with. I needed to make sure I made the best choice because I couldn’t mess anything up. I had little people looking up to me. After at least a dozen quizzes (no joke, I had a lot of time on my hands, plus I had really missed the internet) I narrowed my decision down to the area of accounting/HR that I though suited me well. I found a program close to home that offered an accounting degree and payroll certification for across Canada start to finish in 10 months. The program was designed to be intense but for a faster finish. Sounded perfect for me, since I needed to be back in the work force ASAP making as much money as possible. I applied, got accepted and started all within a week.

I had to find childcare for my kids which was hard since I didn’t even have a regular babysitter. It took me a little while, but I found the perfect dayhome for them 2 minutes from my parents house and on the way to school. The kids loved it and D was an amazing lady.

Now I had to buy a vehicle. Remember I was starting everything from scratch. I looked around for a while at second hand ones that I could buy straight out with cash, but couldn’t find one I really liked, and that didn’t have any issues. I didn’t want to be dealing with car troubles along with all the other troubles I had going on at the time. I ended up going to a dealership and buying the most beautiful brand new Rogue for myself straight off the lot. It was the nicest thing I had ever owned/done for myself and it actually made me happy every time I looked at the car. I’ve had to sell it since then to buy my house so I currently drive a bucket of bolts I hate, but one day I’ll get myself a nice car again.

Then, there were the people I had to deal with. OHHHH the humanity. Where to even start.

My mom just kept comparing my divorce to hers like a gazillion years ago and the similarities were few and far between yet I was supposed to do everything how she had done it and all the advice was in her opinion super helpful… It wasn’t. She kept telling me about different laws that were so outdated, or paperwork I should file that didn’t exist anymore. It was frustrating. I just wanted to be able to tell her what was going on without her telling me what to do. I just wanted her to listen. But that’s not my mom.

Then at a family get together about a month after I’d gotten back, my older sister R felt it was a good time to give me her opinion on my life. Now R is very dedicated to her Christian faith (her and her husband J are Pastors) and from her perspective, I shouldn’t divorce E. I should “separate from him. Separate forever, but don’t ever divorce” Also she felt it was appropriate timing to tell me that, if I choose to remarry, her and her family would not be attending my second wedding. Her and her husband didn’t believe in divorce and remarriage and therefore wouldn’t support it. Unless he had cheated on me. (Apparently that kind of abuse is ok according to God’s break up plan?) She felt she was being kind by giving me a heads up on this. I hadn’t even officially filed for divorce yet (I hadn’t even decided to get a divorce yet, I’d just flown back like a month ago and was still sorting out my life) and you’re already talking about my hypothetical second wedding? It was frustrating and made me feel like no longer discussing E with her.

*Since this time R and I have discussed this moment and I explained how it made me feel, and R has apologized for making that comment at that time and the insensitivity of it all. I have forgiven it and we have moved past it, still no update on her families attendance at a hypothetical second wedding though lol*

Anyways then in April, my little sister’s boyfriend D wanted to propose, and asked for my help because her and I were so close. The last thing I wanted to do while dealing with my divorce from an abusive crazy ex is help other people in happy healthy relationships get engaged. Petty? Yes, very, but also it was my truth. But I helped anyways. I wanted to cry the whole time, but I helped. I also must’ve subconsciously been pissed because I was supposed to record the whole proposal on my phone, and I honestly thought I was videoing the whole thing, but when we went to watch it after there was no video. I don’t know if I forgot to press record or what, but I honestly felt terrible. Either way, she got a beautiful ring on her finger in a room full of her family and friends and flowers. I know she’ll remember it forever without the video… I hope Irregardless, it was a MUCH better proposal than mine, good job D.

My dad sort of kept to himself about the whole thing. That was his style though. Mostly just let my mom do her thing. But when my sister got engaged, I’ll always remember he brought up the whole “don’t you dare hurt my daughter, or I’ll kill you speech” And in that moment I was so mad at him. It was the same speech he had given E. I was his daughter. I had been hurt. And Dad… you did nothing. You literally did nothing. In the one moment I NEEDED someone to keep their promise to me, to protect me, to keep me safe. You did nothing. For a few weeks all I could think about when I looked at my Dad was how he let me down. I obviously don’t condone violence, and I didn’t actually expect him to do anything to E. But I did want him to shut his mouth about it. It was so hypocritical and made me feel like maybe I wasn’t worth it to him. It took me a while to get over it, and still bothers me to hear him talk about it. I’d rather hear him say nothing than false promises like that.

Then on top off all this, I had constant calls, emails, Facebook messages, texts you name it, from E and his family. Harassing and threatening me at every turn. I blocked all sorts of numbers and they would just call from other phones. Then, they started bothering my mom on Facebook.

Ahh good ol family.

It was no wonder that I became depressed and suicidal by the Fall of 2014.

-Coldplay/Scientist-

The Wedding Of My Dreams. My Worst Nightmare

E didn’t want anything to do in planning the wedding. My mom on the other hand… She wanted to be all up in there, whether I wanted it or not.

I’m a fairly easy going person. I don’t like to stir up trouble. And my mom was getting so excited about this whole wedding thing that I didn’t want to say no when she wanted to invite every last person she knew to the wedding. The list went on and on until I felt like it was her wedding with touches of me here and there. I had no support from E in trying to arrange things any differently. “She’s your mom” “Let her do it” were all the responses I got from him.

I didn’t realize until much later that E was scared of her.

My wedding day was nothing like I wanted it to be. Actually if I had to do it again I’d probably just elope and forgo all the hassle (Probably something I should’ve done this time, with someone different lol). From start to finish I hated it. Except my dress. I loved that thing. I could’ve lived a week straight in it and not complained once. Unfortunately I had to leave in Kenya, so it’s gone for good.

I spent the morning going to my friends to get my hair done. Then back at my house I did my own make up while alone. There was none of that “all the women gathered/photo op” stuff going on. The place was completely empty apart from myself. My bridesmaids arrived later on in the dresses they had picked out themselves. Black. Haha, that was my colour. Black. If that’s not foreshadowing I don’t know what is. It’s like they were dressing for my funeral and I didn’t even clue in.

Anyways. They showed up and we had a few pictures taken in my parents backyard. Then we headed off to see E.

I had chosen to have the wedding on a Friday night. I figured people wouldn’t want to waste a whole day on me, so we had planned for a quick ceremony at 6 ( I think, I don’t even remember now) followed right after by dinner in the same hotel. Wham bam done. Simple, easy. I already knew by now I didn’t want to make a big deal of the whole E+C thing, and had already become embarrassed to be with him in public, so the quicker we got it over and done with, the better.

Because there was no time in between the ceremony and reception, we chose to do our pictures first thing. No big deal. No big reveal. Just him seeing me and us doing our thing.

So my 2 bridesmaids and I drove to where E was staying at what would be our new house and that’s where he saw me for the first time on our wedding day.

“You look nice” is how I was greeted. Wow thanks hun. Way to really make a girl feel special. I looked nice. But thinking back… E has never once called me beautiful. I’m not saying I should be in the movies or some model, but I don’t think I’m ugly. I guess average is the word I’m looking for. But on the other hand, I also think that if you love someone and you think they are the one for you, the one you’re choosing to marry… that you would find them attractive. Beautiful perhaps. And that maybe once in a while you would tell them just that, that they look beautiful. A great opportunity being on the wedding day. But, not the man I chose. Nope my picking skills are something else.

We did some pictures at the house and around town, then headed off for the ceremony. I can remember the most special part of that afternoon… the whole day, is when my shoe-strap became undone and E bent down to do it up for me. I specifically remember the most romantic thing he’s ever done was do up my shoe for me. First and only time he’d ever bent on one knee in front of me that’s for sure.

The ceremony was quick and simple. Not a wet eye in sight. Yep you heard that right. Dry and emotionless. Like a lecture hall. Filled with 60+ of my parents closest friends. I was so glad when E and I walked back out down the aisle at the end. It meant that not so much attention would be on me and this sham.

Dinner was horrific. My MC hardly planned anything and it was just awful all around. People began leaving before 9 PM and I didn’t blame them at all. I’d have been outta there ASAP if it wasn’t my own wedding. We had rented a photo booth which was fun but other then that, nothing. E didn’t want to talk to anyone so it made for awkward conversations and you could just feel the tension.

I was embarrassed for my wedding.

Finally an appropriate amount of time had passed and we could make our exit. I swiped a bottle of wine off a table, told E I would be upstairs in our hotel room and asked if he needed anything. Nope, he’d be up in a minute.

Over an hour later E finally came up the stairs reeking of weed. Ok fine. You lit up a joint on your wedding night to ease the stress. I can get over that. But then when he was in the washroom, his phone rang with an unknown #. I answered it thinking it wasn’t a big deal, someone needed something or was calling to say congrats… maybe a family member from Kenya not realizing the time difference.

It was a big deal. It was his ex. His baby mama. The chick he’d just spent the last hour on the phone with. On our wedding night he left to get high and chill with another chick on the phone.

Needless to say I wasn’t in the mood for standard wedding night festivities. But E didn’t care. And that was just the first time he didn’t care. When he wanted it, he got it. Correction. He took it. My awful wedding day was topped off with rape.

Maybe it’s because I didn’t wear something borrowed and something blue….

House Warming. It Was Cold As F**k

After we’d been married about two months, I wanted to throw a little house warming/ gathering party at our new place. It would be the first time we’d had a group over and I thought it’d be fun. I asked E if he was okay with the idea and he said sure. I asked him if we should invite some of his rugby friends to make him feel more comfortable and he agreed. I arranged the party and called everyone up to invite them over. It wasn’t going to be huge… maybe a dozen people or so. I knew by this point that E wasn’t a fan of big crowds.

Friday rolled around and I went for groceries for that night. The usual party snacks, chips drinks etc. When E saw me come home with this stuff he got upset. Saying I should call everyone and tell them not to come. The party was supposed to start in about an hour and he wanted to cancel it. I didn’t understand what his problem was. I had asked him if he wanted to have people over. I had asked him who he was ok with having over. And now that it was actually happening he wasn’t good with it anymore. I said no. I’m not cancelling on these people. It’s not going to be a big deal. We’re just going to sit and eat, drink, chill and have fun. E wasn’t having it. 15 minutes before it was supposed to start, and he left the house. I still have no idea where to, probably off to the gym or something. But people started coming and I had to say that E couldn’t make it. I had my first party/house warming as a “married couple”… on my own.

I wasn’t pleased. I got drunk. I can think of only 3 time I’ve ever been this drunk in my entire life, since I’m really not a big drinker. But in that moment I just wanted to forget. Forget that I was entertaining E’s friends without him. Forget that we were supposed to be in this together, but I was alone. I got so drunk that by the end of the night I realized it was just myself and one of E’s friends left. I had been calling E all night to come home but he wasn’t answering. So when his friend said he was heading out to another friends birthday party, and asked if I wanted to go so I wasn’t alone, I agreed.

We drove to the other party and he went in for a few minutes while I waited in the car I was so drunk. I ended up puked out the side of the car. Then S came back to the car and I asked him to please just take me home, I was done with the night. I just wanted to crawl into bed and see if E had made it home yet. Instead he took me to his place. I remember trying to call E over and over and telling him where I was and to please come get me. At S’s house I went to the bathroom and while sitting on the toilet I remember leaning over to throw up in the tub… all while trying to push S away. He was sticking his hands between my legs while I was tryna piss. And I’m crying and randomly drunk calling out for E. I just wanted it all to stop. Then I remember seeing E standing at the bottom of the stairs while S is kneeling in front of me and I’m pushing him away crying. I screamed and yelled for E, he must’ve gotten one of my million drunk calls/texts about where I was and come! I grabbed for the air. And I remember thinking “he came for me”. But then he just turned around and walked away. He just left me there screaming his name over and over. S finally walked away after E to do god know what, while I somehow pulled myself together enough and somehow got to S’s car and he took me home then. But E was so mad at me. Part of me understands why… I think? But mostly I just think I needed him then. That whole night I needed him. And he wasn’t there for me.

Almost a month later when I found out I was pregnant, E didn’t believe the baby was his for the longest time. He was sure it was S’s. In fact his exact reaction was “oh shit” when I told him. Even after I told him time and time again there was no sex that night, something I”m positive of. He continually acted like I enjoyed what happened that night. Saying things like I would call up S for fun to do it again. I don’t know if he ever trusted me to begin with? Or if it was just his paranoia, and that he couldn’t trust anyone. Needless to say, it put a damper on things and we didn’t have any get togethers after that, which E loved since he hated having people over, and I hated since I love having people over.

Either way, I ended up going through my whole pregnancy with my first born with no help from E. I’m still not sure if it’s just because of who he is as a man, or because of that night, but all those things pregnant woman talk about like back rubs and… well anything with your husband? I experienced none of. Actually come to think of it, I had none of it with either pregnancy so I’m pretty certain it’s just cause E is a jack ass.