Writing about Kevin has been one of the hardest things for me to do. I’ve written so much over the past 10 years on him that I don’t know what else I could say; yet, everything I’ve written was purely reactionary as a victim. I used to write a lot of horrible mean things about Kevin; I couldn’t tell you if they were true or not. Not anymore. At the time they seemed true. He did seem uncaring and abusive. He did seem to put me last. He did seem to want to constantly cheat on me. Often I questioned why I wasn’t enough? How could I get him to love me? Maybe if I gave more and more of myself… maybe that would work, right?

Kevin and I met each other during our freshmen year in college. He was my first for many things e.g. boyfriend, lover, break-up, best friend, confidant, etc. He is also the first person I fell in love and the first person I told. He is, more importantly, the first person that I established a complete submissive codependent relationship with. I don’t think he wanted a girlfriend who was submissive but the relationships I had grown up with portrayed women as submissive. I grew up with the assumption that it was a woman’s duty to give herself to a man, heart, body, and soul. In theory, this sounds great until you are actually with this type of woman because when another person becomes a woman’s “everything”, they are lost. I see it now in other women, lost women, who have given up their very essence to another person.

A part of me IS naturally submissive as I enjoy pleasing other people, but I took it to the extremes as apologizing for ALL my shortcomings. I think at one point I was apologizing for being alive or the way I was breathing and taking up his oxygen. By this point I wasn’t even submissive as much as I was codependent and trying to retain the only thing that seemed stable in my own life. Side Note: In this case, I often think, how would I be different if I hadn’t been sexually assaulted? How would I be different if I hadn’t asked Kevin to come to my rescue? That’s the thing. I needed Kevin to constantly protect me and to rescue me. He was my knight in shining armor, except that he couldn’t rescue me from my depression. I’m not entirely sure, he was fit to be that knight or even if he wanted the role of protector.

From the start we were destined for failure, whether or not I wanted to believe it. For starters, he was already in love with another girl, a friend of mine, and I wanted to lose my virginity ASAP so that I would never marry a Latino. Side Note: I grew up in the belief that I had to remain a virgin so when the time came for me to marry a Latino, he would not hate me for being a non-virgin. I still carry this belief meaning that I have ruled out at least 8.35% of the United States population. I should have given Kevin time to heal from the girl he loved and not allowed him to “seduce” me. Honestly, I remember shaving myself for the first time on the night I went into his bedroom to watch South Park with him. I knew what I went in his bedroom for.

I remember many of our fights and break-ups, and how quickly we would have sex. It was during this relationship that I learned to use sex as a tool for manipulation. Sex would make me feel better whenever we were having a hard time. I always hoped that good sex would lead to a good relationship. Now, I know a little bit more; good does not mean healthy. I often used sex to confuse Kevin into staying with me. I was confused half the time too! I was obsessed over losing him. If I lost him how would I explain to my future Latino husband that I wasn’t a virgin?

The last time I used sex as a tool was when Kevin cheated on me for the final time. I remember just grinding on top of him and receiving no pleasure from it. I wasn’t confused as much as I was lost. I didn’t know what I was doing at that point. I couldn’t even cry. I knew we had both spiraled out of control but I didn’t know what to do. I had tried to use my “go-tos” but they weren’t working anymore. I couldn’t even look at him. I was ashamed of myself and I was just full of hate. I hated myself more than I hated him. I was consumed with the idea that I had destroyed our relationship. I had destroyed myself; but there was a lot more destruction to come!