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  • Aled Rees

Was it?

Updated: Aug 14

Possibly one of the hardest blogs I have and will write to date, but one I feel I must confront and share. I’ve said from day one, since the day I decided to start a blog, that I would be completely open and honest about my life experiences and so here goes. I must admit, I didn’t, like most who experience what I experienced, plan the horrific abuse that I found myself in.


For those who have already read some of my previous blogs, this one is part of “Opposites don’t always attract”, but as you will soon find out, I’ve held back until now to write this dark part of my life story.


Months had passed since the break-up with my previous partner, yet for some strange reason, I was being drawn back to him.


Whilst sober I didn’t think of him once, well I may have had the odd thought of him here and there, however after a few drinks this urge grew stronger, the need of having him back in my life grew stronger and stronger until it started to poison my very being.


Nights out with friends began fantastic however as the drink went down, the emotions came up and that when I would reach out to him. I’d try every method possible!


For a drunk, I’m very good at finding ways of contacting someone who doesn’t want me to contact them. I instantly become a detective.


Just give me a few G&Ts and I will find and contact the uncontactable, even if I have to resort to old school methods and use a carrier pigeon. These are the extents I would and did go to contact my ex, well not the pigeon part however if there was once around then this would have been an amazing chapter in my life.


I managed to get hold of him, we spoke and things seemed ok and on some occasions, I would go over to his and we would talk some more etc etc, you get the jest. However, after each night, I would wake up next to him horrified and angry with myself!


He would be awake, looking at me, laughing at me, “regretting your decision yet”


I would react and say of course not, however inside I would be screaming.


One night I managed to get myself to his home after being on a night out with friends.


He told me to come over, and like a dog with its tail between its legs, I was there at his beck and call.


I let myself into his house, and he was laying on the sofa in his living room.


He was gloating at how easily it was to get me over, and how I was pathetic yet he loved me and like the fool I am I believed him, I didn’t hear any of the insults, just I love you.


I sat by him, and that when I noticed the coffee table and the white lines.


Not only was he now drunk but he was also off his face.


My ex was always a hothead, even when sober he was always argumentative, always had something to complain about but when he was drunk and especially on drugs this fuelled and enraged his anger more.


I was intoxicated and very vulnerable.


He flipped me over and forced himself inside me, I remember saying no.


I have never found anal sex easy, too be honest I avoid it unless I fully trust the person, and we take time, I mean a lot of time and a lot of trusts.


He kept saying, “I never do this, I never top! “Luckily, he couldn’t fully penetrate me however the amount of which he did hurt me, it hurt me badly.


I remember the next day, he had gone to work, and I went downstairs for a coffee, I tried to sit down but I was in so much pain it was unreal.


That was the last time I saw him, yet I kept remembering about this incident, I remember it like it was yesterday.


I keep asking myself the same questions over and over again, Was I raped?


Did I allow this to happen?


But most of all, I kept asking why?


Why did he do this?


Why did I let this happen?


But worst of all why did I still love him?


I had been drinking and he had been consuming both drugs and alcohol so we were both under the influence, so why do I feel like what had happened to me as being wrong?


I honestly can’t remember much of that night, but I do remember the pain during the act, but mostly I remember the next morning.


Driving home, which was a good 50 minutes, was torture in itself. I drove home in sheer pain as my underwear soaked up the blood.


Tears ran down my face but my emotions were numb. But like a typical man, I hide what had happened to me, I hid it from my friends, I hide it from my family but most of all I hide it from myself, until one evening.


I work in the arts; my passion is the arts and so I go and see a lot of new writing. I fully believe in supporting new original pieces of theatre and local artists, and so one evening I went to support a friend's new play called Woof.


Woof, is an LGBTQ+ play about 2 young men who fall in love yet they also had an open relationship and would invite other men into the bedroom.


Side note, I don’t agree with open relationships however I’ll keep my opinion for another blog sometimes, but that just me, I resect those who are in open relationships, but it’s not for me.


One of the boys is very happy being in an open relationship but the other is not, and it getting more and more jealous and angry throughout the play yet he was madly in love with his boyfriend.


During the play, a rape scene happens between the two lads. The boys had been drinking, taking drugs but as they are about to go and have sex, one of the boys (the one who is happy with the open relationship? passes out. We are then left with one boy passed out and another, jealous and agree partner forcefully raping his boyfriend.


His partner wakes up the next day in pain, covered in blood and his boyfriend nowhere to be seen, he realises he was raped but was unaware who did it.


He eventually finds out as his boyfriend confesses etc. If it ever comes to a theatre near you I fully recommend this amazing play.


However, as always, I digress. I sat watching this play on my own and as the play unfolded and the rape happened I could help think this is my life!

This is what had happened to me. It was like my life was on stage and everyone was watching it. I started getting very anxious as my anxiety pulsated throughout my body. The play came to an end, I grabbed my coat and went straight to the bar.


Did I just realise that I had been raped? Did my ex-boyfriend forcefully rape me whilst I was under the influence?


The play kept playing in my head whilst I compared it to my experience. Nights passed, and sleep was now non-existent.


I still was in denial, I still was unsure that I was raped, so I began to be more open and honest with my loved one. I started speaking to my friends about my experience, not saying I was raped, but what had happened between me and my ex.


Once they had heard my story, it was then they said. “he raped you, babe”.

I think hearing the truth from somebody else’s mouth is when reality hits you.


It’s when you can truly accept the truth as it's coming from the mouth of a loved one instead of the voice in your head, questioning what had happened and where you to blame.


I spoke and they listened and as much as it pained me to talk about it, it was truly the best thing I did, a weight was lifted off my shoulders and I was no longer alone.


I have accepted what happened to me, yet it has left me with some emotional scarring, and a fear of being intimate with another person, let alone being in a relationship someone.


The worst part of all this was the fact I still loved him, I tried my best to get back with him, yet he had control over me, he was in charge and was forever dangling piece of string in front of me.


Forever giving me false hope of us ever getting back together. He loved the control, the mind games, cruelty was his thing.


Out of all my dates and partners, he was the one that drove me to mental illness, his mental abuse broke my core, broke my being.


I eventually turned into the psycho ex, something I thought would never happen to me but I truly did.


I started posting stupid comments about him on social media, started randomly phoning him when I was drunk, leaving messages with his friends etc.


wtf this isn’t me, I don’t do ridiculously childish things like this! Yet it did

so why was I caught up with him?


Why was I infatuated by someone who I hated and someone who caused me both mental and physical pain?


When I look back at our relationship it was pretty much one-sided. We did what he wanted to do, and I wasn’t allowed to be the person who I wanted to be.


He disliked all my gay friends yet loved my straight female friends. There was no trust, well not from him, and yet he had no reason for not trusting me as I have never cheated on any of my partners.


Months had passed since the incident yet I still wanted to speak to him, still wanted to confront him.


And so, I did.


To be continued….


Next time I’ll tell you how I started 2020, and why 2020 for me was fucked from January the 1st.


Thank you for taking the time to read my story. If you have experienced anything like what I have experienced, then there is help out there for you. Please check out Survivors UK.


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