Disclaimer: In Real Life is a platform for everyday people to share their experiences and voices. All articles are personal stories and do not necessarily echo In Real Life’s sentiments. This story was submitted anonymously and has been edited by our writer, Lee Chow Ping with permission from the author.
Story by Anonymous
During my earlier 20s, I dated a guy for two and a half years.
When I reflect on that relationship now, I remember a few distinct anecdotes.
I once lent him about RM50,000, which was my savings at that time.
After that, whenever I brought this up with him, his reply would be, “I’ll sell my kidney and pay you back.” This happened on a regular basis.
Obviously, he would do no such thing, nor would I want him to. The response was simply a way to shut me up.
Also, each time he snapped at me like that, I wasn’t actually asking him for the money back. I was only trying to learn what his plans for his finances were.
Other times, whenever our conversation showed any signs of getting heated, his go-to line was, “I’m sick. Don’t pester me.”
He wasn’t genuinely sick, and just like the kidney remarks, this was not a one-time thing.
One day, I really fell sick. I clearly remember that my body temperature was 40℃. It was so bad that my dad practically carried me into a clinic.
When I told my ex, he did not believe me. Only later did I realise why—he used “I’m sick” so often as a means of manipulation even when he wasn’t sick that he must’ve assumed I was doing the same.
The final bitter memory I have of that relationship was after our break up.
Towards the end of our relationship, he had bought me a bracelet.
After the relationship ended, he tried different ways to get me back. On one occasion, he said, “To buy that bracelet for you, I had to starve myself!”
I know what his buying power was at that time in relation to the value of the bracelet. Therefore, I can confidently assure you that he did not have to starve himself to afford it.
Reflecting on these, I notice one obvious constant: the use of guilt to control me.
I remember the first time he touched me
Picture credit: adrian swancar @ unsplash
I was at a relative’s house, and he had tagged along.
I was taking an afternoon nap.
As I started to slowly wake from my slumber, I felt something.
Although I was still groggy then, I could feel warm skin against mine.
It was a hand, and it was inside my underwear. He was touching my bare butt without my consent.
I didn’t know how to react.
The relationship was still pretty new at that time, and I had a strong desire to please him.
So I kept quiet.
I wasn’t ready
I wasn’t planning on letting him touch me so soon.
It’s not that I never ever wanted to get intimate. I just wasn’t ready to get intimate with him yet. Or ever.
It was still undecided.
However, ready or not, this incident perfectly reflected his attitude towards my body.
To me, intimacy with him was a conversation to be had. To him, it was a goddamn birthright.
He felt entitled to my body.
In his eyes, he owned his girlfriend’s body. So touching her while she was asleep was his right as a boyfriend.
It’s like he assumed that my consent came as a prerogative of being my boyfriend.
And his disregard for my consent became increasingly obvious as the relationship progressed
As far as physical intimacy went, there were certain lines I was unwilling to cross.
But he was always testing those lines, sometimes even physically trying to barge through the lines. Thank goodness he was skinny enough, and me burly enough.
Now, you might read this and think, “But that’s how guys are. They will always try their luck.”
I used to think that too, until I discovered something.
“Trying your luck is extremely different from feeling entitled to that luck.”
Say my friend has a brand new PS5 that I am dying to borrow. She does not have to lend it to me. After all, it’s her right to do with her things anything she pleases.
But I try my luck anyway. I cross my fingers and ask: “Babe, can I borrow your PS5?”
If she says “Yes,” I’ll be overjoyed and kiss her toes. But even if she says no, I recognise it as her right.
Maybe I try my luck every single day and ask her over and over again. And when she says ‘no’ over and over again, I sulk, but understand—no luck.
That’s still not the same as being entitled. Annoying as hell, maybe. But not entitled.
But if I go around bitching about what a selfish bitch she is, then block her on Facebook—how dare she not lend me her PS5?! That’s me feeling entitled to something that was never mine to feel entitled to (PS5).
So the split hairs aren’t really split hairs after all.
It was only after that relationship ended that I realised how entitled my ex was
Later on, after the relationship with this ex ended, I started dating another guy (he is the embodiment of my wettest sex dream. I eventually married him).
And being with my husband helped me realise that the way my ex tried to wrestle out my ‘consent’ was toxic. The contrast is glaring.
Back when I was dating my husband, I said ‘no’ often. He’d pout and look disappointed. But no matter how dismayed he was, never once did he imply that I had taken something from him.
Even now, four years into our marriage, he has never ever behaved like he owns my body. Freaking horny, sure. Constantly trying his luck, definitely yes. But never as if I owe him my body.
When my husband hears my ‘no,’ he registers it as ‘no’.
On the other hand, when my ex heard ‘No,’ he heard it as ‘She’s saying no, but actually it’s a default yes’.
Whenever I refused my consent to my ex, he behaved as if I had cursed his ancestors.
Sometimes he would throw a fit. Sometimes he would physically force himself on me.
And often, he guilt trip me
Some people talk about the “bases of love” in baseball terms.
First base, kissing. Second base, heavy petting, etc.
But advancing the distance between the bases is not that simple.
So, I prefer to see the consent I offer as a ruler. I’ll call it a consent-o-metre.
Ruler centimeter cm scale. Vector school, plastic yellow ruler with centimeters measurement
When he put his hand into my underwear without my consent, he pushed to 10 without my permission.
Despite feeling uncomfortable about it, I let him. So he sat his entitled ass at 10 as if his name was engraved there.
“You’ve had other boyfriends. That’s not fair for me, so you should make it up to me,” was a favourite in the early days.
He also tried to use shame to control me, of which I attribute to his traditional Chinese upbringing.
“I’ve touched you. Do you think other guys will still want you?” he would say.
Picture credit: philipp wuthrich @ unsplash. Edited on canva.
What he said made me question my value. Because I wanted to please him, the effect of his words were demeaning.
Consent is tied to self-worth. So when all that guilt chipped away at my self-worth, along went my willpower to withhold consent.
Otherwise, he would take random accidents and somehow turn them into something I had to apologise for with my body.
“You spoiled my external hard drive. Do you know how much stuff is in there? Now come and compensate me.”
“Do you have a right to refuse?”
The mind-f*cking was really bad when I got out
When I look back, I thank every single one of my lucky stars that I’m out of that relationship.
I guess that experience has made me acutely aware of when I’m being guilt-tripped.
When I watch shows, or read literature where a girl’s consent is being manipulated out of her, it triggers me.
My observation is that this kind of manipulation is especially prevalent among collectivist societies, like the traditional Chinese one my ex is from.
In these types of communities, every person has a role to play, and anybody who ‘steps out of line’ is punished.
For example, a woman must submit to her husband.
I suspect my ex had internalised the idea that he, the guy, is superior to me, the girl. And therefore, I must listen to him, but not him to me.
As the superior in the relationship, he owned me, including but not limited to my body.
Let’s not perpetuate this messed up idea, guys and girls.
Everybody, male or female, has a right to their own autonomy. They can offer or withdraw consent as they please.
Always.
For more stories like this, read: Consent Is Essential – Here’s How You Can Incorporate It In Your Daily Life
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