I was 19 when I first met Ben*, in March 2003. I’d just come out of a bad relationship and couldn’t believe my luck – he was a few years older than me, charming and attentive, and wanted us to spend all our time together. He made me feel so loved and cared for. My parents liked him too – they were glad I’d found someone who would look after me, and it wasn’t long before I left home and moved in with him.
Blinded by love
But before long, things began to change. Ben started making jokes at my expense, and I found them really hurtful. He’d dismiss them as banter and I thought I was just being sensitive, but his cruel jokes became a habit and, looking back, it signalled what was to come.
Because Ben wanted us to spend every second together, I had no time to myself, so my friendships started to crumble. My friends did not like him, and soon my parents weren’t sure about him. That should have been enough of a warning but I was in too deep by then, blinded by love. A year into our relationship, we started to argue. Of course, that’s quite common among couples, but Ben’s rage would escalate into physical violence.
He hurt me on numerous occasions: once, he slammed my hand into a kitchen cupboard and broke two of my fingers. Every time he hurt me, he’d be so apologetic – he’d say he loved me and he’d never do it again, but that I shouldn’t have wound him up. I felt the rages were my fault and so I’d try my best not to push his buttons.
This story is from the April 2023 edition of woman & home South Africa.
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This story is from the April 2023 edition of woman & home South Africa.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 8,500+ magazines and newspapers.
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