Tweedledeh

Personal Post

It’s recently come to my attention that more than a few people think me a ‘slut’.

This is laughable, considering the sources and the amount of their own sexual partners.
This is also laughable, considering my small number of partners, and that is not even in comparison.


Gonna get some things off my chest, here. Those of you who know the parties involved, try not to hold it against us.
Maybe.
I don’t know, fuck Phil. He puts on this pretty charade for all of you so you think he’s such an awesome guy, and he’s a pretty awesome liar, so maybe it’ll be an eye opener.

Phil hit me, so I moved the fuck out.
Not hard enough to hurt, mind you, but he raised his hand to me in anger, and it sure as hell left a mark, and I’d like to have seen him explain to a cop “I only tapped her”.

So, let’s just sum up our relationship and then get to my current status-

When Phil and I met, we hung out, and I made clear that I had a boyfriend and intended to remain faithful.
Phil raped me.
Now, I am not going to say he physically forced me, because he didn’t. But, no means no. No means no means fucking no, and it doesn’t mean “she’s sick and wants to stay on your couch tonight because she’s too dizzy to drive, so beg her for sex and guilt trip her until, hours later, after constant pestering, she gives in”. To this day, he doesn’t believe it was rape. I cried the whole time. I sobbed for hours afterwards. I had said no, all night, and he wouldn’t accept it. For weeks, I couldn’t look at myself, couldn’t look at Tyler, couldn’t look at Phil; I couldn’t look at anyone. “It’s my fault”, I would tell myself, “I let him”.
No. Fuck off. I said no. I said no hundreds of times. I didn’t press charges for rape because I did, eventually, say yes, but that does not change his wrong.

That’s how our relationship began.

He hounded me for months, putting guilt on me for not supporting him emotionally, demanding of me support and energy that I simply didn’t have. Tyler and I began to drift apart because I was stretched so thin between the two of them, and I eventually left Tyler because I just couldn’t take it. I loved Phil. I loved him for all his rights and wrongs and Phil not only wanted this, but drove me to it.

He refused, on countless occasions, to have us enter a committed relationship. He admitted to seeking out other women. He flirted with other women. He told me he’d planned to hook up with one, and when I was hurt, he said he wouldn’t but that he had every right to.

We began fighting, frequently, after he got sick. He was cold and unfriendly, and acted like being around me was this huge waste of time and energy and getting him to smile was like pulling fucking teeth. I did everything for him. I had been doing everything for him. I catered to his every whim. I practically worshiped the ground he walked on simply because he’d touched it.

We had a big fight, huge, before he left for Germany. I told him I was done. I couldn’t do it anymore.
He asked me to wait, and I stupidly agreed, because I would do anything to make him happy.

But I thought about it, and realised, “No. I’m fucking done”. I was heartbroken and tired, and tired of being heartbroken and tired. He was happy to take everything from me and give little to nothing in return.
So, I texted him. I was going to have this week while he was gone to myself. I would be selfish for the first time in over a year. Just this week, give me just this week to be happy, and then I will continue showering you with everything you could possibly want.

I slept with Charlie. It wasn’t my intention in the beginning, I just wanted to hang out with him, but at least he didn’t force me. Shit happens. You put two kids together who get along and like sex, and they usually fuck. I wasn’t in a relationship with Phil. He’d turned me down multiple times. I didn’t owe Phil shit - I had given him the world and everything in it. He was killing me, slowly, and for a whole day I was happy with Charlie. I felt wanted for the first time in months. I laughed. I didn’t worry about making Charlie happy because I didn’t have to. It was so nice.

Phil called. He hadn’t received the text. I told him the truth because I make it a point not to lie, and he lost his shit. Called me a plethora of names, said some things just to hurt me, (and they hurt), renounced our friendship, etc. Said he had been planning to ask me out when he got back from Germany, (though I called then, and to this day, bullshit).

When he came home, I was submissive. I wanted to make things right. He was my best friend and I had hurt him. I hated myself, again. I pushed Charlie out my life, and if I thought I’d given Phil everything before Germany, I was sorely mistaken. I went so out of my way to make him happy, I began to emotionally and mentally and physically fall apart.
Nothing was ever enough.
I was never enough.
Throughout our entire relationship, I could never be enough for him, and he made this abundantly clear.

He finally told me he didn’t want me anymore, which was a shitty way to phrase things considering all I’d done, and I was rightfully furious on top of fucking shattered. I fell to pieces.
I tried to get him back, he yelled at me. Our fights got worse and more frequent.

I finally said ‘Fuck it’, started sleeping with Charlie again, (he’s a good guy), and Phil added ‘slut’ to his list of frequently used slurs against Renee’.

A couple weeks ago, we fought again. He made the whole house miserable, all the time. I asked him to leave, please, just for the night, and he refused. The fight continued.
He hit me.

He apologised immediately, but that doesn’t change the fact. It didn’t hurt, but it bruised, and that still doesn’t change the fact.
He then picked me up and put me in my room with the intention of locking me in so I would leave him the fuck alone about getting out of the goddamn house, but he shouldn’t have put his hands on me again.

I tried to get him out, and he wouldn’t. I didn’t want to call the police on him because I didn’t want to ruin his life, but I threatened it hoping he would leave.

He finally did.

I moved out the next day. Found my own apartment.

Don’t know how I am going to make ends meet, financially. I’m a fucking mess, emotionally. Physically, I’m still falling apart.

I can only really blame myself, I think, because my taste in men in so terrible. After he /fucking raped me/, I think I should have known better than to get emotionally involved.
But, he told me he needed me. He made himself out to be weak, and hurt, and I showed him love and happiness, and any other positive emotion you could possibly think of. I gave him everything I had, and more, and after one mistake, (though I’d forgiven him for so many more, and more hurtful, even), I was tossed aside.

Cool story, bro.
He flaunted his new girlfriend in front of me, made me feel shitty at any given opportunity, was rude to my friends, our housemates, their friends, and was generally a terrible fucking person to be around.

Phil, you are scum. I wasted a year of my life with you. Wasted it. Everything I gave you was real, and a part of me, and you couldn’t find the decency to ever validate my feelings, ever. You think your help with me financially was enough to cover all the bullshit you put me through, but you are so wrong. I paid you back, always did. It was a friendly thing to do, I did more for Chad and I still hardly know him. You are shit. You are worthless. You are the reason your friends all left you, not them, and I see now why you were so fucking lonely.
I would still take a bullet for Nick if he needed me, after all our shit.
But for you, I would feign ignorance. Every possible way you could hurt me, you did.
Fuck you. Not only did you use me, but I made sure I felt used.

I hope you don’t rape and hit your new woman, because nobody deserves the kind of shit you’ll put them through, you selfish, spoiled, inconsiderate fuck.

I put flowers on James’ grave, but you couldn’t make me visit yours.