I'm Jenny. This is my story.



Lying in the dark, a cold stillness all around me, I know that he wants me to “meet his needs”. I’m turned away towards my bedroom window. His hand grazes my hip, and my heart burns under my ribs. His words from previous disagreements echo in my head, “You shouldn’t withhold your body from me. Don’t deprive me. Your body is mine.”

I turn towards him, tears already in my eyes. “But you were so mean to me today,” I voice.

The heat comes into his voice a little, “Every time I want to have sex, you make me jump through hoops. It always has to be your way. We can’t ever just have sex. Your body is supposed to be mine.”

“I just don’t know how to get close to someone who hurts me so much. It seems like you don’t like me at all; why would you even want to have sex with me?” I refute.

“It’s always the same thing. Don’t you have any sex drive?” he quips.

Tears hit my pillow in dejection. J says, “Oh, come here. I’m sorry. I am a jerk sometimes.” He pulls me close and I cry into him, tears slick on his skin. I want so badly to believe he sees me, to believe it will be different in the future.