How Sex With My Ugandan Boyfriend Turned Into Abuse!
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My ex-boyfriend was lovely. He’d met my family, been my plus-one for my brother’s wedding, charmed my dad, asked me to move in with him, bought me flowers and told me he loved me. I was blissfully happy until one day we had sex and my feelings towards him changed completely. He slapped me in the face, strangled me until I choked, spat on me and called me a slut. I felt utterly degraded, humiliated and insulted by the man I loved.
We had been together a couple of months when this pattern of sexual behaviour started. We’d fall into bed, kiss and undress, and then the ‘dirty talk’ would ensue. He would call me a whore and a slut, and ask if I’d been ‘a good girl’ and kept my legs closed while he had been away. As sex progressed he’d slap me in the face, spit in my mouth, wrap his hand around my neck and squeeze until I was gasping for air. I was so shocked and intimidated by this new aspect of our sex life that I didn’t know what to do. I’d tell him to stop, pull his hands from my neck and say that I didn’t like being treated like this but his behaviour continued every time we had sex, no matter how much I said no. He simply said that this was what turned him on and it wasn’t a big deal.
I know what you’re thinking: If you’re not happy, just leave. Get out. I would say the same to any friend that this was happening to. It’s not until you’re in this situation yourself that you realise how hard it is to turn your back on someone you love and who you want to be with. My self-confidence had slowly diminished to the point of believing that this was how I was going to be treated forever, that I loved this man and this was the sacrifice I had to make to be with him. I resigned myself to the fact that this was our sex life but I’d dread every time we had sex. I didn’t tell friends or family as I was embarrassed about how he was treating me, and about my prudishness and dislike of this ‘kink’. When you love someone it’s astonishing how your mind rationalises away any trace of doubt.
As our relationship went on, the truth about his turn-ons became evident. He would watch porn every day without fail, even when he thought I was asleep next to him. I looked at his internet history and the porn was graphic, violent and degrading to women; girls being held up by their throats in gang-bangs or emulating violent, horrific rape scenes. I was afraid for my life!
During our sex, he could never orgasm without finishing himself off; he would never come through intercourse, it always ended with him next to me, jerking off and making me kiss his feet or stroke his legs. He would try and force me to give him oral sex by pushing my head down and when I refused, he’d say I wasn’t kinky enough.
After months of this, I started to believe his insults: that I wasn’t kinky, I was a prude, boring, not submissive enough and it was stupid of me to be getting so anxious about our sex life. It took our painful break-up for me to see sense. He ended things with me (over email, I want to add) after a year of dating, saying that we couldn’t work long-term. I was utterly heartbroken and I still don’t think I’m over it, which I find frustrating. But I also felt relief that I didn’t have to have sex with him ever again or be made to feel terrible for not allowing him to spit in my mouth while he called me a whore.
It is only through hindsight and confiding in family and friends that I am able to see that no fault lay with me regarding our sex life. I am a 27-year-old woman and I am allowed to say what I like and what I’m not comfortable with in bed.
