This story is a direct continuation of Part 2, “Leave Him and Be With Me,” which follows Part 1, “He Kissed Me–Even If I Might Be Sick.”

The day I left the abuser, J was one of my first friends to know about it. Something had happened that had left me so troubled, I felt embarrassed to go home, so I stayed at her place. She and L-P comforted me, and after I officially broke up with the abuser, M got in touch with me.

It had been a few weeks since M and I had kissed in his car, and he asked me if I’d like to go out on a date with him.

‘I’m all over the place, I’m insecure. But I want to date you. It hurt me when you broke up with me. I want us to make up for lost time.’

‘I’ll make you feel secure, I promise.’

I was at my dad’s, actually, when we went on our first date.

I told my dad I had plans for later that night. M came to pick me up at my dad’s. It was a bit funny to reintroduce him as the guy I dated in high school. My dad figured we were going on a date but said nothing about it; merely wished us to have a good time.

M took me to a popular bar downtown. We drank Purple Haze drinks and sang loudly to the Our Lady Peace song that was playing over the bar’s speakers. And I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

He leaned towards me over the table, smiling, as I leaned towards him. We made out between sips of drinks before ordering another and chatting some more.

A lot of our dates were spent having a drink and reminiscing.

There were times when I had been insecure about my body and such, but he didn’t mind so much. I still didn’t know how to voice all my thoughts, so the reassurance was different coming from him back then than it would be today coming from Hubby, but it meant a lot to me all the same.

M brought me to his place after that first date, and I was a bit nervous. The first man I ever had sexual intercourse with was the man who abused me. I had nothing to compare it to.

‘Don’t worry, I don’t bite,’ he reassured teasingly, ‘unless you want me to.’

The basement was the same as I had remembered it. It was the same house where we had made out several times as teens, where we would hang out when I was at his place, and it brought back memories.

‘Let’s do this again, the proper way, the way we should have.’

‘Considering I was a virgin back then, I don’t know if it’s as it should have been.’

He chuckled. ‘I’m not trying to be romantic or anything. I just want you.’

‘You do?’

‘You’re beautiful, you’re turning me on just the way you are naturally. I want you.’

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“He’s not treating you right. You deserve so much better than that.”

It was my birthday, and I was going to have supper with J and her man (boyfriend back then, today they are married). I was turning 22, and I was going through hell.

I was in a relationship with the man who abused me.

This was shortly before I left him, a few weeks, actually. Emotionally, I was a wreck.

We were setting things up in the kitchen, J, L-P and I, chatting away, when M called J. She stepped away and when she returned she was still talking to him — a bit awkwardly.

She turned to me and asked, ‘So, M wants to invite himself. Is that cool?’

‘I mean, it’s been forever, we’re all adults now. I’m game.’

Apparently, M didn’t mind either and he figured it would be a good opportunity to apologise.

When he arrived, he acted as though he had never ever been mad at me in his life. We both apologised for our immature recklessness back in high school.

‘So are we good?’
‘Yeah, why not.’

And then the flirting started. ‘Good, because you’re even more beautiful today than you were then.’

We joked, bugged each other, teased each other. M and I even poked fun at each other.

‘Yeah, well, I don’t go around kissing my boyfriend’s friends BEFORE breaking up with them.’

‘Yeah, well, I don’t go around crushing on childhood friends while I’m dating someone.’

And we reminisced too. ‘I honestly hoped you wouldn’t puke on me. I was low-key worried that you would, though.’

J chimed in, ‘You guys were so loud, I could hardly sleep. Your kissing sounded like slurping.’

‘I wish I had been there to witness the cringe,’ teased L-P, ‘I’m kind of jealous not to share this memory with you all.’

It was all so much fun.

M probed a bit about my current boyfriend and J spoke up about her observations. I talked about my confusion about the way he acts and the things he says. No one was outright saying “He’s abusing you” but they were heavily implying it.

A part of me thinks J wanted to help M and me rekindle our relationship so it would help me leave the abuser. And it did. Sometimes you DO need a rebound.

M offered to drive me home that night.

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‘If you puke, just not on my new running shoes, okay?’

We were sitting on a swing at his family’s chalet. His family is also my best friend’s family, though this was in a different town. We were semi-camping.

My best friend J, a good friend of ours, and I biked to the town where J’s cousin M lived. And not far was a little chalet-type trailer with a park-like backyard. This was at the start of summer.

I’ve spoken about M before — he was the guy who was stolen from me by the girl who broke my nose.

He’s actually a sweet guy, so much so that I dated him twice.

The first time, I was 16, and we had eaten some fast food that wasn’t sitting well with me. I thought I was going to be sick. I kept moaning and clutching my stomach.

He stayed out on the long swing with me all night, holding my hand, the other wrapped around my shoulder, as we gently rocked.

‘If you puke, just not on my new running shoes, okay,’ he said to me.

We had been flirting a bit before that, and then more openly. It had been very clear to my friends that I had taken quite a liking to M, and then he made it clear he’d taken a liking to me.

He played the guitar too. He’s the one who introduced me to The Offspring’s music — they became my favourite band (though they switch places from time to time with my number two fav band, Linkin Park).

M also played some songs for us. He enjoyed playing the song Crazy by Aerosmith. And even if I’m not a big fan of that band, I was enthralled by his playing.

As I sat there on the swing, terrified of being sick, M stroked my hair, whispering sweet nothings to me. We chatted all night long. And then he turned to me, his hand on my chin, tilting my face up to his, and kissed me tenderly.

‘Courageous,’ I told him. ‘I might be sick.’

‘I like to be daring sometimes, though I trust you’ll turn your face away if you are.’

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