Chris’ Story

Someone mentioned that all these stats on domestic violence were interesting, but where were the real stories. Here’s one for you. I must say, normally I wouldn’t discuss such a private story “in front” of hundreds of strangers, but quite a bitter head of hatred (some of it unreasonable) has been building up in me for woman in general and I’m hoping this will be a bit of a catharsis for me. I know, deep down, that the majority of woman aren’t deceitful lying manipulators, but I’m having a hard time accepting that right now.

I’ll tell you two things straight away.

  1. I’m not a regular poster, so doing something like this isn’t easy for me
  2. I’m going to relate, as accurately as I can, a story (mine of course) of a relationship involving physical abuse, and the eventual outcome.

The relationship was a poor one from the start, but particularly passionate. This kept it together for seven months. During that period we were both mentally abusive towards each other. Pointing out each others flaws and inadequacies, and playing all sorts of mind games. The stories abound, but that’s not the point of this post.

Three and a half months into the relationship she began to physically abuse me. The first incident was the most violent, but the cumulative effect had the most impact. Over the last three and a half months of the relationship she struck me in the face on three occasions. Twice, hard enough to knock the glasses off my face.

As I said, the first incident was the most violent. I had to travel on Valentine’s Day, and she believed I wasn’t paying enough attention to her as I was preparing for the trip. This led to an argument. I finally threw the flowers and candy, I had been saving for later, at her feet as she was leaving. She broke the front door of my apartment, kicked and slapped me, and kicked a camera across the room. The only physical contact I had was to grab her arms as launched her fingers at my face and march her out the door. I didn’t leave her then and that was my first mistake. Later when we had made-up she told me that in her opinion, it was acceptable for a woman to strike a man, and that it was even “sort of romantic”.

By the third time she had struck me she admitted that it was wrong and that she shouldn’t be doing it. By then, however, I found that I was flinching every time we would get into one of our increasingly common fights.

On the evening I “lost it” we had gone to a wedding. After the evening we fell into petty bickering so I drove her home. At 3AM she decided she wanted to talk more, and since I had taken the phone off the hook so I could sleep, she came over. I told her to leave me alone and to let me sleep, but she was determined to cuddle up and sleep with me. Finally I looked her in the eyes and said “Don’t touch me”. She punched me in the face.

“That’s it”, I screamed. “You’re not going to do this to me anymore”. I punched her in the abdomen, then grabbed her around the neck. The rational part of my mind cut in at this point and I pushed myself off her. I said, “I should kill you, but I won’t”. Then I said I’d had had it and I was taking her home. On the way out the door, a CD dropped out of her jacket, an irrational attempt at revenge. I asked her if she had anything else, and went back to replace the CD. As I did, she ran off to a mutual friend’s apartment.

This was my second mistake. I was a fool to hit her, and even though the threat was just me melodramatically blowing off steam, I knew it would frighten her. There’s never an excuse to hit or terrify another person unless your life is in danger and the only thing that was really in danger was my ego and pride. I’m not a violent person by any means, and the rage that swelled up in me should have been the final message to me to leave her, but I can’t describe the anxiety she had set up in me over those three and a half months. As I hit her I thought, “There! That’s what it feels like!”

Later I found out from the mutual friend that she claimed I had attacked her for no reason. The friend, knowing me a little better, asked if she had ever hit me. A firm no was her reply.

The next day she went to the police with roughly the same story. I got to spend the night in jail. It was pretty much the worst night of my life. I had never faced such a situation, and I didn’t know what to do. I just did what the officers told me to do without questioning them or attempting to give my side of the story. I was charged with common assault and had to retain a lawyer. She didn’t.

Over time she admitted to having hit me before to the mutual friend, and in fact she had talked about each of the individual abuses to a closer friend (this friend colluded with her the first time, by the way, saying that it had been acceptable for her to hit and kick me.) When the prosecutor, seeing too many discrepancies in our stories, had an interview with her, She didn’t mention the history of abuse and said on the evening in question that “I didn’t hit him first”. This was all related to me by my lawyer.

The prosecutor, with no real way to get at the truth other than a complete trial, said he would go for a conditional discharge (i.e. no conviction and no record) provided I didn’t see this girl for 18 months and attended an alternatives to violence class. Lawyers being lawyers, mine saw a 100% way to get me off the hook so to speak, so she said, “You already owe me $1600. A trial will be at least another $3500, and you don’t know how convincingly she’ll be able to lie. You could go to court and win, or get convicted and be left with a criminal record. I can’t guarantee you’ll win”. I took the conditional discharge.

That was my last mistake. An investment of $3500 to know peace of my mind for the rest of my life. Now all I know is that she abused me, she lied, and no-one (except personal friends) questioned her story. Admittedly, a spotless record and a prosecutor who didn’t think he had the whole story (but couldn’t verify it) kept me from a record, but I am now taking a 1 year, 98 hour course that I shouldn’t be taking. Having said that, I’ve come to realize that many of my problems stemmed from low self- esteem, and I could certainly do with an adult education class on how to deal with intimate relationships.

The course itself by the way, is run, literally, by feminists who are made up of the same manipulating lying ilk who are doing such an excellent job of driving a wedge between the men and women in North America. It is absolute hell to know I have to listen to them lie to, and manipulate the minds of, the people in this course each and every week.

What burns me the most though, is she should be taking that course, God damn it. Guess what. She couldn’t if she wanted to. Only men can take it, because after all (toting the course’s feminist party line) “Stopping violence against Women is Men’s work”. Violence against men is a non-issue by the way (eh, unimportant)… And that’s the government sponsored attitude. After all, we all know how men are just woman killing machines. Donahue said so.

Now I read these groups, constantly assailed by hate propaganda and “statistics” that the female Hermann Gorings, Andrea Drek-ins and other pseudo-religious leaders of the feminist movement are disseminating.

Most women aren’t liars, but they are being lied to. And that ain’t helping our cause. Our cause should be to be at peace with each other (or at least a stable facsimile of peace) and avoiding sliding into some kind of diseased gender war. Given the hate soaked mandate of the very powerful special interest groups who literally feed on and become stronger with the more hatred they can propagate, however, that’s the way we’re headed. Some kind of bizarre magnified version of what happened between that girl and I.

I don’t have any real wisdomatic insights; what has happened is too fresh in my mind for reflection. If anyone wants to give me comments or feedback, however, please don’t give me any “The bitch had it coming”, or “You were a victim”. I may feel those things sometimes, but I’ll get nowhere fast if I can’t break out of that line of thought…



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