A Bad Relationship

This is about my last relationship. It is a re-post from a previous blog of mine. I’m not sure if everyone knows about this part in my past but I am strong enough to talk about this now. If you have any further questions, let me know!

It started like any other relationship. You know, the Ihavetoseeyoueverysecondofthedayitis and the ohlookatuswearedatingloooook! We were so happy! I couldn’t get enough of him. He would take me out all of the time. Dinner, movies, putt-putt, bowling. Just everything he knew I liked, we did. It was nice!

Maybe this should be the moment I mention we were in an interracial relationship. He was white, I’m black.

It soon became time to meet his parents. He never mentioned to me that his parents were racist until he mentioned his parents wanting to see me. They knew of my race, but since I had never been to his house in this 3-4 month spam, I didn’t know how they felt. I left dinner in tears. I didn’t even finish. I just left. They called me the N word to my face. They said many things that I didn’t like, and they seemed HAPPY that I was so upset. I never went back there.

His friends hated me too. They never got to know me. All they knew was that I couldn’t tolerate weed smoking and that’s all they did. Apparently when Daniel* [name changed] met me he stopped smoking. They always wanted him to and I said no. Dan respected my wishes.

Flash forward 1 and a half years and we are living together in our first apartment! It was so wonderful. Living on my own was amazing. I was working 2 jobs to pay my half of the bills and to have more money. I would work from 8-midnight or one a.m. every day, and then come home and do all of the chores. Yes, Daniel had it made. He worked one job five days a week and I worked 7 days a week.

Things started to become sour soon after.I came home from work exhausted so I went straight to bed one night. He slapped me in my face to wake me an hour later, why? Because the apartment was “a mess.” Now I was the only one cleaning everyday and was only home from 1 am until 7:30 am and I spent at least an hour cleaning before I took a shower and went to bed. I slept maybe 6 hours a night. I did deserve a break, right? I was the only one doing anything and all he did all day was play video games and have his friends over. And then once he got home from work, he would make more mess by leaving dishes from stuff he cooked [which I didn’t see any of] and tracking dirt through the apartment from outside.

This happened more often and it escalated. I was so scared to fight back. He was stronger than me and he told me that if I told anyone that he would make me “regret the day I met” him. I believed it so I kept quiet for 9 months.

My breaking point was when he threw a solid wood chair at me. It hurt. Like HELL. I left that night and went to a friend’s house. He gave me the courage to leave Dan. I am so thankful for that friend. I know for sure if I didn’t meet this friend that I would be dead. I ceased all contact with Dan. I don’t know what would happen if he ever saw me again. I know this though, that will never happen to me again.

2 thoughts on “A Bad Relationship”

  1. Thanks for sharing, Brittany. You know, what strikes me most about this story is that you explain about why the house might be dirty. I totally understand why you’d feel the need to justify or clarify or defend yourself. It just seems somehow sadder to hear you explain yourself after a man had slapped you in the face. I mean, I don’t care if you had pooped on the floor and spread cheerios on it – you didn’t deserve that.

    I’m glad you got out. I was just writing in my own blog about why women stay (I stayed for two years) and thought that I’d do some reading on other abuse blogs. Thanks for this.


What do you think?

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s