deathrow2016
Retro Obsessed
This is the first chapter of a project I was working on called Confessions of A Male Survivor. I ultimately dropped it because, in reality, I know nobody would read or care about this. But I'll try here, as it does involve autism in a few scenarios. I doubt anyone's gonna believe this at all, but I'll try. Maybe I'll pick up the project again later. Maybe.
(All names have been changed to protect identities)
What is a woman? What standards must she abide by? Generally, women are expected to be sweet, caring, sensitive, and fragile. And when we think of abuse in romantic relationships, we usually think of the male abusing the female. But, have you ever stopped to think that maybe…just maybe…it could be the other way around? They say it can happen to anyone. And it happened to me. The concept of a woman abusing a man sounds like nonsense. But it happened to me, a 19 year old man. Now, I know stories with abuse are met with some skepticism. Especially ones which don’t exemplify norms. I assure you, however, that all of this was real. And my own mother could verify it. I could start out with the way my partner almost killed me by crushing, or how she didn’t clean the intimate portions of her body and forced me to please her. But it is important to know the building blocks. What lead up to the day I woke up and decided to shut her out of my life for good.
Chapter One: Home Alone
Usually, it is a good thing for the couple if the parents are not home supervising them. It allows them to be more intimate without getting reprimanded. But, for me…it was Hell on Earth. Mo’nai was physically larger and stronger than I was, so she had made all the rules. What we did. What we ate. What we watched. Even where I was allowed to sit, sometimes. I would try and find every excuse not to have her over when my mom wasn’t home, but sometimes she would creep under the walls in my mind and find a way to convince me to let her over. Whether it was to cook for me, cuddle and watch a movie…things couples typically do. But, as time went on, I realized Mo’nai’s intentions. She came over to enforce a dictatorship.
I cannot recall a time grander for discussion than one early Friday morning. We were both off school for something or another. She had wanted to make breakfast for the both of us. It should have been a good morning. But then things happened. It was at this time that I was beginning to see her true colors, and what I had gotten myself into.
I don’t know what it is with me…but I cannot tolerate certain foods. Their color, their textures…sometimes it all makes me sick. It may be an Asperger’s thing, but I wouldn’t know. Mo’nai knew I didn’t like scrambled eggs. I told her on several occasions that I didn’t want them, but she had went ahead and made them anyways. Knowing that I would have a difficult time eating them. When everything was on plates and cups were filled, I wolfed down the pancakes without a problem. Only the scrambled eggs she had put on my plate remained. “Just try them, honey”, she cooed. I cringed a little, but I couldn’t get them down. After I went to the trash can to hurl…she looked at me with disgust. “What, are you not appreciative of my cooking? I didn’t have to do this.” She said. I nodded and apologized, and she just shook her head and whatever’d me.
I had been wanting to dye my hair that day, and she had always wanted to “help”. Even with the littlest of things. One time I was shaving and she’d barged in, forced me to let her “help” even though I had really wanted to do it on my own. It made me feel like a child. Anywho, she of course popped the question of “Can I help you with that”. I assured her I was fine applying everything on my own, but she never took “No” for an answer. If you told this girl “No”, she would nag and pester you. Ask you why she couldn’t, and wouldn’t respect an answer of any kind. So I had sighed and given in, because I didn’t want to argue for an hour over something so trivial. The application went well. But I had needed to take a shower to apply the conditioner. But, knowing Mo’nai, she would want to “help”.
I went into the bathroom, peeled off my shirt and went to turn on the water. To get it nice and warm first. But standing in the doorway was Mo’nai.
“Can I help you put the conditioner in?”
“No thank you”
“Come on”
“No”
“Please”
“No”
At that rate, she had had enough. She grabbed my arm and forced me onto the edge of the tub. With the water running, she’d forced my head back and began lathering my hair. I was extremely uncomfortable, on both a physical and emotional level. I still had my pants on, thankfully, but they got soaked. And another thing about me was….I hate getting wet while clothed. I was so disturbed that I wanted to burst out in tears, but I didn’t want to show weakness. So I let it go for about fifteen minutes.
“Are we done yet?
“Not yet”
Another fifteen minutes passed in this uncomfortable position. My back was killing me and my neck was about to give in. But thankfully, there was mercy. She gently let me up and left the bathroom so I could dry off. And shake. And sob a little.
But this was only the beginning of the troubles that lied ahead. I was only learning of the full extent at which I was being manipulated. A puppet on strings handled by someone who shouldn’t be a puppet master. Things always get worse before they get better. And, for me, they were about to get a hell of a lot worse than “helping”.
(All names have been changed to protect identities)
What is a woman? What standards must she abide by? Generally, women are expected to be sweet, caring, sensitive, and fragile. And when we think of abuse in romantic relationships, we usually think of the male abusing the female. But, have you ever stopped to think that maybe…just maybe…it could be the other way around? They say it can happen to anyone. And it happened to me. The concept of a woman abusing a man sounds like nonsense. But it happened to me, a 19 year old man. Now, I know stories with abuse are met with some skepticism. Especially ones which don’t exemplify norms. I assure you, however, that all of this was real. And my own mother could verify it. I could start out with the way my partner almost killed me by crushing, or how she didn’t clean the intimate portions of her body and forced me to please her. But it is important to know the building blocks. What lead up to the day I woke up and decided to shut her out of my life for good.
Chapter One: Home Alone
Usually, it is a good thing for the couple if the parents are not home supervising them. It allows them to be more intimate without getting reprimanded. But, for me…it was Hell on Earth. Mo’nai was physically larger and stronger than I was, so she had made all the rules. What we did. What we ate. What we watched. Even where I was allowed to sit, sometimes. I would try and find every excuse not to have her over when my mom wasn’t home, but sometimes she would creep under the walls in my mind and find a way to convince me to let her over. Whether it was to cook for me, cuddle and watch a movie…things couples typically do. But, as time went on, I realized Mo’nai’s intentions. She came over to enforce a dictatorship.
I cannot recall a time grander for discussion than one early Friday morning. We were both off school for something or another. She had wanted to make breakfast for the both of us. It should have been a good morning. But then things happened. It was at this time that I was beginning to see her true colors, and what I had gotten myself into.
I don’t know what it is with me…but I cannot tolerate certain foods. Their color, their textures…sometimes it all makes me sick. It may be an Asperger’s thing, but I wouldn’t know. Mo’nai knew I didn’t like scrambled eggs. I told her on several occasions that I didn’t want them, but she had went ahead and made them anyways. Knowing that I would have a difficult time eating them. When everything was on plates and cups were filled, I wolfed down the pancakes without a problem. Only the scrambled eggs she had put on my plate remained. “Just try them, honey”, she cooed. I cringed a little, but I couldn’t get them down. After I went to the trash can to hurl…she looked at me with disgust. “What, are you not appreciative of my cooking? I didn’t have to do this.” She said. I nodded and apologized, and she just shook her head and whatever’d me.
I had been wanting to dye my hair that day, and she had always wanted to “help”. Even with the littlest of things. One time I was shaving and she’d barged in, forced me to let her “help” even though I had really wanted to do it on my own. It made me feel like a child. Anywho, she of course popped the question of “Can I help you with that”. I assured her I was fine applying everything on my own, but she never took “No” for an answer. If you told this girl “No”, she would nag and pester you. Ask you why she couldn’t, and wouldn’t respect an answer of any kind. So I had sighed and given in, because I didn’t want to argue for an hour over something so trivial. The application went well. But I had needed to take a shower to apply the conditioner. But, knowing Mo’nai, she would want to “help”.
I went into the bathroom, peeled off my shirt and went to turn on the water. To get it nice and warm first. But standing in the doorway was Mo’nai.
“Can I help you put the conditioner in?”
“No thank you”
“Come on”
“No”
“Please”
“No”
At that rate, she had had enough. She grabbed my arm and forced me onto the edge of the tub. With the water running, she’d forced my head back and began lathering my hair. I was extremely uncomfortable, on both a physical and emotional level. I still had my pants on, thankfully, but they got soaked. And another thing about me was….I hate getting wet while clothed. I was so disturbed that I wanted to burst out in tears, but I didn’t want to show weakness. So I let it go for about fifteen minutes.
“Are we done yet?
“Not yet”
Another fifteen minutes passed in this uncomfortable position. My back was killing me and my neck was about to give in. But thankfully, there was mercy. She gently let me up and left the bathroom so I could dry off. And shake. And sob a little.
But this was only the beginning of the troubles that lied ahead. I was only learning of the full extent at which I was being manipulated. A puppet on strings handled by someone who shouldn’t be a puppet master. Things always get worse before they get better. And, for me, they were about to get a hell of a lot worse than “helping”.
