Dating after domestic abuse
After an abusive relationship, my romantic bar was set unbearably low. Here’s what I wish someone had told me about dating after abuse
Exclusive | 3 min read | Trigger warning: abuse, gaslighting and sexual assault | *Names have been changed.
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As our first date drew to a close, Jacob* pulled me close and forcefully put his mouth on mine. I considered kissing him back as it felt capricious to reject him now, but his physical touch made me recoil.
Truthfully, he’d made me feel unsettled most of the evening.
I’d shown up to our date having made an effort, wearing a push up bra, a slinky red velvet tank, skinny jeans and heels, but he’d told me he was ‘more of an ass man.’ This, despite a distinguishing feature of mine being my giant boobs. He even boasted about a theory he’d found on Reddit. ‘Boob men,’ he began, ‘are just children who’ve been breast fed for way too long.’
There had, however, been brief flashes of kindness on our date. He’d held my hand and asked thoughtful questions. Then, he announced out loud, that he’d try to make me miss my train home so I’d have to stay with him, before launching into that kiss.
Now, I can see that was one of the worst dates of my life. At the time, I thought it’d been a good one.
Warped ideals
My idea of what respect, mutual attraction and flirting looked like had been warped by an abusive relationship, with this date being my first since leaving my violent ex. I had no idea what was acceptable anymore, romantically. Anything that didn’t involve physical abuse automatically equated to a positive experience in my mind, and potentially, a good prospect for a new relationship.
Previously, I had dated Kyle* for two years. In the beginning, it was the kind of magical relationship you only see in fantasies – or so I believed, because obsession can feel like affection. When you’re not specifically looking out for red flags, they can easily slip past. Even violence can look like a bad day.
In hindsight, Kyle’s abuse began subtly. He waited for me outside college or ‘shopped’ where I worked for hours - just watching me. My teenage naivety and his emotional manipulation led me to believe this jealous stalking was an act of affection.
Almost 1 in 3 women aged 16-59 will experience domestic abuse in her lifetime
two women a week are killed by a current or former partner in England and Wales alone
Source: Refuge/ONS
After eight months together, Kyle’s abuse became bolder, beyond any justification I could find. When I told him my plans to move away for art school, the happiness in our relationship disintegrated like a carbon pill, resulting in the worst year of my life.
Kyle methodically guilt tripped me, gaslighting me into believing I was responsible for his poor mental health. He convinced me that I was horrible for considering moving away from him when I knew he couldn’t live without me. Any desire I’d once had to have sex with him evaporated, which he viewed as a betrayal.
Escalation
Beth in unhappier times. Photo: Beth Ashley
Kyle began sexually assaulting me almost daily. Some days, he coerced me into bed with threats of suicide. Other days, he favoured physical force.
When I couldn’t take anymore, I confided in my mum, who helped me deliver a quick, sharp, over-the-phone breakup to keep me from Kyle’s grasp. She supported me in reporting him to the police. He was arrested and the case was passed to the Crown Prosecution Service, which resulted in a two-year investigation (that felt like ten). Both of our phones were seized in the process.
Eventually, the detective in charge told me the case being dropped. Conversations retrieved from our phones showed we had, at one point, shared a ‘highly sexual’ relationship, with sexts and nude images exchanged. There was also evidence I’d cheated on him.
If my case were to be heard in court, the detective explained, I’d be ‘ripped to shreds’ by the defence, and because I’d failed to mention these two elements in my initial interview, I now apparently ‘looked bad’. It didn’t matter that the sexting had occurred before my ex-boyfriend’s abusive behaviour had begun, or that the cheating happened during it. Despite the rape, gaslighting and abuse I’d endured, the case against my violent ex was dropped.
After that, I became untethered, suffering symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Generalised Anxiety Disorder and persistent insomnia. The most notable and long lasting impact the abuse had on me was the way I behaved, or allowed others to behave, when I tried to date again.
Looking for love
Luckily, I hadn’t gone home with the forceful Jacob the night of that horrible date. Instead, I’d seen the red flags for what they were and ghosted him. But my confusion over what constituted a healthy relationship remained jarring and problematic.
I fell into a serious relationship with someone I shouldn’t have. He had little prospects or self-esteem and didn’t want me to have any either. Without realising, our relationship became the sort where most things were acceptable.
I was so disconnected from what a loving relationship should look like, I convinced myself that a man who doesn’t hit his partner is automatically a great one. The usual deal-breakers like arguing, lying, cheating, and general selfish behaviour went without repercussions. No matter what he did, or how unhappy I felt, I always let him stay.
What I wish I’d known then about dating after abuse is how low you can unintentionally allow the bar to be set. Out of relief for getting out, us abuse victims are sometimes keen to start dating fast. If the lesser-known symptom of being unable to spot red flags in romantic situations after suffering abuse was more well known, victims (and their loved ones) might know to be more mindful of what to watch out for.
Time to heal
Despite the turbulent transition, time was an important healer for me, and dating eventually felt ‘normal’. I met the man who’s now my fiancé, developed a healthy sex life and we share a romantic bond that’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt.
For a long time, I believed this type of healthy love was out of reach, but I’ve happily proven myself wrong.
Every victim has an individual recovery experience. Some want to jump straight back into dating, while others hold back - both are valid. But, there are important things to keep in mind, things I wish someone had told me when I left my abusive relationship.
Don’t accept the first guy who seems ‘safe’
A lot of women who date after domestic abuse understandably fear history repeating itself. This can result in dating the first guy who feels ‘safe’, like I did. Without re-traumatising, try to remind yourself of what you’ve been through and what the red flags were – things like jealousy, possessiveness and the feeling you’re walking on eggs shells.
It’s important to quickly identify red flags when getting to know someone new, and take them as a serious sign things are probably not right. You don’t need to date the first guy who offers you kindness or safety.
Beth and her fiancé now. Photo: Beth Ashley
There is someone out there for you who will treat you the way you’ve always deserved to be treated, and it doesn’t have to be the first, second or third person you meet.
Take time to be with yourself
Abuse can eradicate your sense of self. Spending time alone and reconnecting with your mind, body and feelings is imperative for recovery. I’m not suggesting you need to be single for years before re-entering the dating space, even though some recommend it, but regaining your independence works wonders for your self esteem, which is intrinsically linked to knowing your worth.
Space to reflect can also give you a better idea of what your priorities are for a relationship, and what a new, safe and respectful partnership might look like. It gives you time to understand your needs and boundaries, and how you’ll communicate them to a new partner.
Keep the pressure low
You don’t have to jump back into dating straight away. If you need some time, take it. If you do start dating again, keep the pressure low and take it easy.
I know from experience that love can be found after abuse. It just takes patience, empathy and kindness - starting with yourself.
For help, information and support including live chat in the UK, visit Refuge, or call 0800 2000 247. You can learn about the Silent Solution here (a file will download onto your computer/phone so please delete it after you’ve read it, if necessary, for your safety), so if you ever need to call 999 but can’t speak, you’ll know what to expect and what can be done to help you. Male victims can also contact ManKind. If you are in the UK and in immediate danger, please dial 999 now.
In the USA, you might find some helpful resources at NCADV, as well as support at the National Domestic Violence Hotline. If you are in the USA and in immediate danger, please dial 911 now.
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