But He's Not Like Lee (Part 1)

Several blogs I enjoy reading have done some series work. A few posts over a period of time, telling an important story about their lives. I enjoy these, despite the fact that they may be difficult to write, I feel that the cathartic experience is a huge pay off. Many readers mention that they have been in similar situations, and it seems to create a safe healing environment. I know I am new to this blogging world and don't have a ton of readers. But if the 4 people who do read my blog find it interesting or helpful then that is good. I am posting here and on MySpace right now. You see my little sister has found herself in a situation not unlike the one I am writing about. She has made the comment that is my title. I am writing this so that she can understand that yes, that boy is exactly like Lee. Please follow along on the journey.

When I was 17 a friend introduced me to a guy. He was 21, and cute, and funny, and just a little dangerous. I was convinced I was in love, that he was the one for me. He repeated words of love, and told me how special and wonderful I was. It was amazing. Then one day while holding hands walking through the mall, I apparently looked a little too long at a guy who was walking toward us, and then I felt it. He very quickly brought his elbow up, and without letting go of my hand, rammed his elbow into my chin, causing me to bite my tongue, and stop in amazement at what had just happened. He quickly pulled me over to a bench, turned me to face him, got right in my face and fiercely whispered “if you ever gawk at some other guy like that again, I will kick your ass. I am not interested in dating some trashy slut.” I must say that this caught me so off guard that I had no idea what to do. I had never known any man to ever act this way toward a woman, especially not a man who loves the woman. So I apologized and went on with my day. Now let me say, that I was not really looking at the other guy in a checking him out kind of way. I was looking at him because he looked familiar to me, and I was trying to place him. Let me also say, that although I was not a virgin, I was definitely not a slut either.
Because I was still in high school, my parents had rules and regulations, and I was pretty controlled by them. So I only saw my wonderful new boyfriend on the weekends and for a limited amount of time. He would occasionally show up at my school in the afternoons, waiting for me by my car. I remember the first time this happened. I was excited by the surprise visit. I was wearing a very cute skirt and top. I was at school, so it was well within the school dress code. Apparently this was not within his dress code, and he proceeded to tell me that I was trying to find another guy and that if I wanted to be with him than I needed to quit acting like such a whore. Then he slapped me. Yes, right there in the high school parking lot, at afternoon dismissal. No one noticed, or if they did, they didn't say anything. Visits from him in the middle of the week became frequent, and I began dressing like a nun because I was too scared of upsetting him the next time I saw him. I never told anyone about this, even after we broke up it was a long time before I could admit this had happened to me. We had dated for about 9 months. The worst damage at that point was the occasional face slap and the verbal abuse. He criticized the way I dressed and the way I acted. If my bra was visible through my shirt, I was too slutty, if I talked to his step father when we had dinner with his parents, I was a whore. You can imagine that it was very difficult to not be slutty and whore like because no matter what I did I was quickly put into one of these categories.
When we broke up I was in a slight depression for about a year. But I graduated from high school, with honors, and began college. See, I was not the type of person you would think could date a guy who abused her. My parents were still married, and in a stable loving relationship. I was very smart, I made good grades. I was involved in extra-curricular activities and I worked a part time job. My freshman year of college was great. I enjoyed school and made some new friends. I got involved in community theatre and did 3 plays in a year’s time. Two of my friends from high school moved into the apartment that I had at my parents’ house. We were having a great time. Then one day I got a phone call…..