In my whole life, nobody had ever made me feel loved like he did. He was my first of most things….he is the one who gave me my first real date, my first dance, my first mind blowing kiss, and my first sex.

He is the one who bought me my first car!

For my first birthday together with him, he handed me keys to a brand new grey car. I shook with excitement when I entered it, and I felt my love for him soar higher….

Not that I am a gold digger, but it felt so nice to have a man who finally found me worthy enough to spend huge amounts on me.

I got the exhilarating sense of freedom and joy when I got behind those wheels….my own car! it was unbelievable!

His name was Ronny – Not the car, my man, the love of my life.

He unearthed the soft underbelly of my fierceness and veil of strength, and found in me that little vulnerable girl who had grown up in an abusive family, and filled that huge yawning abyss I had in me…..the need to be loved!  And he did a good job….he constantly told me strings of “I LOVE YOUs, which raced away with the insecurities I once had.

I was happy….and so was he…we were in a good place.

Until things turned, as if overnight, and he lost his job working for a Clearing and forwarding company.
I loved him still…with all my strength. Our roles switched and I became the breadwinner….but the unorthodox reversal of roles hit him with brutality.Our relationship started getting soar…..

Our arguments shifted from major things, to minor stuff like what should be watched on TV….with me saying things like:
“You had the whole day of Tv, let me watch at least one thing….and him walking away while telling me stuff like: “You dont have to rub it in. I know you go to work and I dont….”

He was transforming into someone I didn’t know….or was I the one going through change?

The first time it happened, I should say, I kind of expected it. We were arguing about the usual stuff when he lunged towards me, grabbed me by the nape of my neck and pushed me towards the sink. I was angry..and so was he. So we fought. I bit and scratched, he kicked and grabbed.

We would have killed each other had my 7 year old son not walked in. The look in his eyes made me stop. I bundled my son into my car, the one his father had bought me, and I fled.
“Come back home….” that is the text he sent me three days later. And I did…..
I went back home.
And so we stayed for two more years. I took in his random outbursts and violent ways with all the grace I had in me. I felt tht maybe his lack of job was  unleashing a bad side of him….I needed to give him time.Until the day that I came home, and he picked a fight on my dressing. He said that I was wearing things too tight, to seduce people at work. He gave a smirk laughter and said….
“No matter how tight you make them, you still dont have it. You have never been beautiful my dear…” he shook his head and laughed.

I dont know why, but I threw my shoes at him.  He rose, shoe in hand, and threw it so hard at me, the pointed heel got my head and I felt blood trickling to my left eye.
Then my mouth….i tasted my own blood, mixed with anger.
I flew across the room, shaking with fury and some form of uncontrolled emotion.
And so we fought….
we threw anything we could find at each other….there was blood, there was noise, there was scarring….
and most of all, there was loss….of a part of me, with each blow that I took.
From my now swollen eyes, I could see my son skirting around, yelling and trying to get his father off me. He was lying on my rib cage…and I was a helpless heap, beneath him.
I dont know when it stopped, but it did, I cleaned myself up, cleaned everything, put the scattered items in their respective places….
and I stayed.
Even though deep inside me, I had a feeling that it was the biggest mistake.
But I stayed………………………………………………………………………………………….And I felt the meaning of the words “Till death do us part” take a whole new dimension.