Hi, buttercups. This story I'm going to tell can be triggering to some, but I need some closure and to make sense of it all.

It started eleven months ago. A guy offered me a ride, he was new to the area, military, helped me out, as I helped him. I asked him to drop me off at the store, since it was a little over a mile walk back to my house, and I didn't want to trouble him. He seemed really nice, but I have always had trust issues. I decided to brush past those issues, because of how sweet he had been and the fact that I'm told often, You need to open up more. We ended up exchanging numbers and talking from there.

I had been in a relationship for a few weeks at this time with an immature guy, and had just gotten out of a relationship with a guy I had been with for over a year. Serious baggage and not enough time to move on before I started dating again, but blah. I was having problems with the new guy, and one afternoon, I texted my friend and asked of he wanted to hang out.

This wasn't a problem with my boyfriend at the time, because all my friends up till this point are...male.

The guy agreed and I didn't hear back until later that night, past midnight. As I said about my friends, I have guy friends, and having nothing to do around town leads you to go out and go places and see people. In short, hanging out at 12am was no problem with me, especially since we had been talking for a few months. Wasn't a red flag.

It came off as my fault, because "I hadn't texted back," he said. Well...he picked me up and...we went to get food and then to his place.

...I didn't know he lived in the barracks. Call me stupid, I didn't even know what they were, let alone what the stigma attached to them even is. Still no red flag.

He'd have to sneak me in, and make sure no one sees me. Still no red flag? Nope. It was 1am, no one was at the desk, it was past hours. ...and still no red flags.

Up in his room, we agreed to watch a movie. (Having only had two boyfriends, both equally sucky, I didn't quite grasp "Netflix and Chill," and since I always hung out with my guy friends from college, Netflix and Chil was pretty fun in my experience!) He started the movie, and sat down on the bed. It was around this time, I began getting jittery and uncomfortable. He tried to convince me to sit on the bed, but I opted for the chair. Again, he asked me to sit with him. Eventually, I agrees to sit at the foot of the bed, with only his legs within reach.

I wanted to leave, because I had a gut feeling, but I trusted him enough not to do anything. About ten minutes into the movie, he starts poking me with his foot. I looked at him, like what?. Again he poked me, I poked him back. It escalated to play wrestling, though nothing bad. For someone as short as me, I do try to give off the vibe I'm a total badass, when in reality, I can't go to the grocery store without minor panic attacks.

Did I say yes, only if...? Did I bring it on with my obliviousness? He sat there when he was done and tried to get me to sit with him. I said no, that I had to go. But "we hadn't even watched the movie." I want to go. He took me to a friends house, where I stayed for two days, unable to get home because of the snow and my lack of interest in doing so.

I don't know what had happened, and why I went or anything. I thought we were friends and boom. My boyfriend broke up with me ("baggage," and me not liking to talk about my feelings), I talked to my best friend, who said I had been raped and should report it. I didn't.

I didn't talk to the guy for a week. He kept messaging me, and finally, I had had enough and wanted some answers. Unfortunately, I didn't have the guts to say anything. He came to pick me up from somewhere when he heard I had been stranded, etc etc. I decided that it was what it was...consensual. He didn't seem to feel anything was wrong. Why should I? (But it kept nagging at me. I had said no. Twice. And struggled to get out from beneath him. Right?)

Part of me forgave him, and we began talking again. I decided to actually have sex with him, but it kind of became a relationship? There would be times when we'd just talk, but other times when it'd be just sex, and it'd always come across as my fault. Why aren't you talking to me?, he'd say. And he'd always ask for pictures or ask if I'm with other guys and send me pictures of women and say rude things. He was kind of condescending and malicious, but in a manipulative and passive aggressive kind of way. To him, that probably was my fault, too.



In was on the outs for a month, and he had helped me through the rough time, by giving me money for food and things. He kept my stuff with him, so I didn't have to lug it around with me everywhere. I had gotten mad at him for something he had said to me (it was still my fault, by the way) and had asked if he could give me my stuff back. I had just gotten off of work and went to the library, where he picked me up. He offered to let me shower, gave me food, and even washed my uniform.

For some reason, he kept wanting to come into the bathroom. It was his place (he got his own apartment) and wasn't like he hadn't seen me before, right? I locked the door and he unlocked it, and give me two shirts: a grey one and a white one, and PT shorts. he looked in the shower and I was asking him to stop and not to, but his excuses were valid in his mind. Or it was all my fault, ha. He told me he didn't want me wearing the grey one yet, because he wanted to see me through the shirt. I kept covering up and had nothing else to wear. All my other clothes were being washed (he snuck in and took them).



And after that, although we started not seeing one another as much, we talked.

Not too long ago, I confronted him like I had planned to before it all began again. In truth, he KNEW I felt sick to my stomach the first time, which means he KNEW it the second and third, too. He also told me that he was sorry and will be a better friend, but still asked me weird questions and would send me pictures or say weird things in general. I told him that I don't wish to speak with him ever again, and that he had hurt me pretty bad with all of this. He blamed me again! And said that I could go to the police and say he raped me. And he had asked me if I had told anyone about any of this. Ever. And now I am.

Because, in part, it's all my fault. I flirted and was an enabler for him to hurt me. I let my heart override my head and couldn't run. I was weak. And that's why I stayed with him, because I didn't know how to leave. And now I can't go on base without thinking of him and worrying he will just crop up.

I really need to find closure for this. Reassurance that it wasn't all my fault as he said and I believe. It makes me feel sick to know I went back sometimes. But he was nice. I couldn't be mean (Stockholm Syndrome?) because he helped me.

What do I do?