I don't really know where to start, so I apologize if I'm kind of all over the place. I only managed to kind of get my thoughts together a couple of nights ago while intoxicated, but I think it still makes sense now that I'm sober.
I'm a CSA survivor. I was 5 years old when my cousin molested me. He's slightly older than me, so sometimes I almost feel like that summer didn't really "count". But other times I see evidence of how fucked up it left me, and it just makes me confused.
My parents had dropped me off at my aunt's house for a weekend, or at least that was the impression I was under. I ended up staying there for the entire summer, and there are a few things I vividly recall during that time. My cousin making me do things that I was terribly uncomfortable with and scared to do, and me calling my mother and begging and crying for her to take me home every night.
I finally got to go home when my aunt caught my cousin on top of me, and even that didn't really bring me relief. There was a family meeting (and I'm Puerto Rican, so at least 15 of my aunts and uncles were in attendance). They didn't bother to ask what happened, how it happened. They assumed we were experimenting, and the verdict over our behavior was that if we did it again, we would be beaten with the belt and our heads would be shaved.
That same cousin tried to start things up again when I was 11, but this time I told him that if he touched me again, I would tell my mother.
When I was 13, we had moved from NYC to KS, and my godbrother was coming to visit for a few weeks. One of the things we liked to do was go to the pool since, unlike NYC, there were apartment complexes that had pools within walking distance. Ours was literally across the street, and so we would go there on a daily basis. This was also the time when my figure really developed, but it was also something I personally wasn't super aware of. It wasn't until my mother pointed out that she could see a lot of cleavage when I wore my bathing suit that I started to wear some kind of tank top or shirt in the pool.
And of course, the one time I forgot to wear a tank top over my swimsuit was when my family decided to leave the pool, but my godbrother and myself weren't ready. I was older than him and deemed responsible enough to watch the both of us and get home safely afterwards.
We had been playing a game where he would get on my back and I'd flip us underwater in the deep end. With it just being the two of us at the pool, he decided that it was the perfect opportunity to basically hump me while I was flipping us.
I didn't see it coming, and I panicked - violently - underwater. He pretended that nothing happened, and so did I. But I made sure to not be alone with him for the rest of his time with us.
I think those experiences are what made me stay with my ex-bf for so long. When we had started dating, things were pretty good. I was very happy. My ex-bf was also the only man I had ever been with sexually. He was also a sex abuse survivor, and so we had bonded over that, and I guess I just assumed at the time that he because he knew what it was like that he wouldn't do something of a similar effect to me.
Looking back now, I feel ashamed for staying with him so long. There were warning signs to get out, and I ignored them or thought I was being silly. There was one occasion where we were about to have sex, and he grabbed the condom. I turned over, we had sex, and then afterwards he admits that he didn't put the condom on. There were times when he was almost angry and resentful about him taking care of my needs, and he would physically hurt me in the process. I remember being sore for days.
It all came to a boiling point when I wanted to introduce him to a friend of mine who also happened to be an ex-bf. But he was an ex-bf in the fact that yes, we dated, but they were library dates. We went to the library, did hw, and he was my first kiss on the lips. That was the full extent of that relationship: sweet puppy love that fizzled out very quickly.
He had said he was alright with it, and so I invited my friend over to ex-bf's apartment. I had turned 21 a few months previous, and so I had pretty much zero alcohol tolerance. I remember the beginning of the night where we were hanging out, all of us were laughing and having a good time, and it seemed like things were going great.
The only other thing that I remember is waking up sore and hungover the next morning. My ex-bf was all too pleased to tell me that he had taken the liberty of having sex with me so that my friend knew that I was "his". I don't remember any of it.
It was a deep betrayal, and I wish I could say that I smartened up and left him after that. His roommate, C, had been quick to point out that he had basically raped me, but I had always been very hesitant to label it as such. I had given blanket permission to wake me up with sex, and so I guess I just assumed that he didn't really think that me asleep vs me black-out drunk and passed out was different. I don't know if that argument is weak, but that was just my thoughts at the time.
So fast-forward to now. Ex-bf's roommate, C, is now mine and WS's roommate. I was very close to C prior to him moving in with us, and before I even met WS. I am very comfortable with him because I know that he is not romantically or sexually interested in me, and vice versa. We have a very deep platonic bond.
WS is uncomfortable with this. He had wondered if C and I had ever slept together - we haven't, nor will we. C is just one of the very few men in my life that I am close to, and that hasn't hurt me. He is safe. WS used to be safe, too. And although WS wouldn't hurt me physically, not on purpose, he shattered me in a way I hadn't seen coming. Not from him.
WS's depression reared back up recently, and he has confided in me that he is uncomfortable once more with C's behavior towards me. Such as how we lay on the couch (typically, I have my feet thrown over whoever is on the couch with me), or that he always seems to be tickling me, etc. I can understand why.
I'm a little lost as to what to do about it, though. He says he doesn't want to change me because of what his depression is making him feel right now. C and I have always had this dynamic since before I met WS. And a couple of nights ago, I was really feeling down and stressed out, and so C and I got drunk and watched Disney movies while WS was at work. We stayed up until 4, watching Disney and talking.
Is it wrong to have such a deep platonic relationship with another man? I'm not interested in him in that way, he's not interested in me in that way. He's just safe, you know? He's never made a pass at me, and he has always seemed to care about my best interests. When I discovered the A, I was a complete wreck. He let me talk and cry, we got McDonald's, and then he stayed in my room with me watching Fantasia until I fell asleep.
Sorry for the super long post. This is just one of the things we were talking about when we were drinking, and it really stuck with me. Any feedback on my situation would be helpful.