Trigger warning: physical and sexual abuse, mention of suicide.
It was the first time I saw him. He was almost ten years older than me, and he worked at the café in front of my school. He was tall and tanned; he was also smart and very friendly. He smelled like pine and fresh laundry, and his laugh was always pleasant to hear. All my friends teased me because I always blushed so hard and stumbled over my words in front of him. It had never happened to me before… I wonder, was this what people call a crush?
—
It had been a few weeks since our first meeting, and he asked me out. I was on cloud nine—my very first crush became my very first boyfriend! Some of my friends said that he was a little suspicious, and our relationship moved a little too fast, but I didn’t have to listen to them, right? It was my relationship—I would be the one experiencing it, not them. Besides, there were more people who were genuinely happy for me. I should be happy too.
—
It was our first date when I had my first kiss. We went to an amusement park, and we were inside the Ferris wheel when it happened. He cupped my cheeks with both of his hands, and I remembered feeling his mint breath on my nose before it happened. The kiss was gentle and warm, and it felt like fireworks erupted inside my head. My mind was a little fuzzy, but I knew one of his hands went down to my chest. I was surprised and slightly uncomfortable—but it was a normal thing for couples, right?
—
It was supposed to be our fifth date that day after school, but it was raining hard. We were both soaked because we forgot to bring umbrellas. We went to my house since it was closer from school than his apartment. We were alone. I gave him my brother’s old t-shirt to wear after he showered, but he didn’t want to wear it. He insisted that I took my t-shirt off too, then he started touching me. It felt weird. I tried to tell him, but he told me it was normal to feel weird because it was my first time. He told me I would feel better in no time. But I didn’t. It hurt. But I trusted him. He was my boyfriend. He wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me, would he?
—
Our first argument was probably a month after that. I had lost count of how many times he asked me to sleep together, and I was tired. He asked me again that day, and I finally had the courage to say no. He was angry. He pulled my hair and hit me. I cried because it hurt, but I knew I deserved that. He was my boyfriend, and I had to make him happy. When I was calmer, I called a taxi to his apartment and we made up. I did what he wanted. He was happy and told me I was the best girlfriend ever. Hearing that made me happy too.
—
It was my first time going to the doctor alone. I hadn’t had my period for months and my stomach felt weird. The doctor told me I was pregnant. I thought my boyfriend would be happy to hear the news, but he wasn’t. He was mad. He told me to get rid of the baby. I cried because I didn’t want to kill my baby, but he threatened to hit me until the baby came out. So, I did what he wanted. He was happy and relieved. I was not.
—
This was my first relationship, and I had hoped that it would end happily ever after. But I was tired. I told him I wanted to break up, and he cried. It was my first time seeing him so miserable. He told me he couldn’t live without me, and he would be better off dead than not having me beside him. I couldn’t let him do that. I felt guilty, and I told him I didn’t want to break up anymore. He hugged me. I smiled. Despite everything that had happened, he still loved me. He is a human, he could make mistakes. The important thing was that he still loved me. It was all that mattered.
—
He was my first boyfriend, and I experienced many firsts with him. He still hit me sometimes, but only if I made mistakes. I loved him, and I knew he loved me too. We were not perfect, but I wouldn’t change a thing. We had love—and for me that was enough.
By Maria Sekar Cahyaningrum
Faculty of Medicine, Sebelas Maret University
AMSA-Indonesia