The first time my ex-boyfriend and I hung out – because a quick plan over tinder doesn’t count as a date – we sat on children’s swings talking until four in the morning. I don’t remember much of what was said, but I know that neither of us could shut up and it felt so easy. I wouldn’t have thought that we’d end up in a student discipline case. 2 May 2023 is when I entered my first relationship and 4 March 2025 is when I found out whether my case against him had been upheld.
The Beginning of The Abuse
I was 18 when I met him, and like most overconfident 18-year-olds, I thought I knew everything. I had seen toxic relationships and thought I could spot a bad man a mile off. I always thought I knew better. When it’s you, though, suddenly it’s all-in rose-tint.
2 December 2023 is when my first relationship ended. With it came all the typical experiences of a first break-up. Dramatic meltdowns, drunk calls and discovering ‘Just Dance’ by Lady Gaga was my break-up song.
The months after, I finally stopped shoving memories into locked corners and allowed myself to process what happened to me. I combed through the parts of my relationship I told myself I’d never try to untangle. It was 4am the first time I told someone, typing out to my best friend that if I didn’t say something to someone then I would go crazy. She told me that she was sorry those things happened to me, that she was there for me, and she’d stand by any decisions that I made.
I never thought about reporting him, I imagined it would just fade into the background of my life. The same thought kept surfacing though, that I didn’t want him to do it again to someone else.
Processing the Past
The first time I reached out to the University, it was done in a rare moment of anger, buried beneath the shame and guilt. The phrase ‘this could ruin his life’ never rang truer to me. I had never offered sympathy to sentiments like that before, but it’s different when you have the power to say something that could hurt someone you were once in love with. The only thing I could tell myself was that I was doing it for the right reasons – he had to know he couldn’t behave the way he had.
I found myself in a meeting with a Sexual and Domestic Violence Response Officer who worked with the University. She talked me through what I could do and the process of the investigation. It seemed very official and detached, like I wasn’t about to wreck both of our lives and everyone in it. We were still so connected, webbed together with mutual friends.
Terms like abuse, sexual assault and rape started being used. I hadn’t put a label on anything yet, I didn’t want the responsibility. Before he was anything else, he was someone I loved. My life had never felt more dystopian. He did some bad things, but I couldn’t help but feel all of this should have been reserved for someone who had actually been in an abusive relationship.
April 12 is when I logged an official report. I was told my case would be reviewed, then the student I had reported would be told I had made an allegation against him. From that an investigation would take place (once it got to the top of the pile). When the investigation was complete, it would be categorised as a level 1, 2, or 3 incident, the severity of consequences inclining with each level. Then, finally, they would decide whether to uphold my claims or not. I know I shouldn’t have but I took that as them deciding if I was believed.
The complaint came out May 17. Some people I had managed to tell, either while blinking away tears or on quick cigarette breaks, reassuring them I was fine. Others I couldn’t bring myself to. I didn’t have it in me to tell them how I didn’t mean to ruin everything.
For the Future
For the next five months I became so passive. I just wanted to make it easier for everyone else, the friends that had become collateral damage. I would barely talk about it; I wouldn’t cry or get angry. I let myself be so understanding. People let me open up to them just to go ignore the issue the next day. It became a lonely experience, marred by regret and guilt about how the people around him, me included, allowed his behaviour towards women, letting one thing slip after another until I ended up where I was.
I sunk into paranoia. I didn’t trust the people around me; I didn’t trust my support worker or my councillor or student discipline. I always felt like I was being pulled onto a stand and told to make them believe me. I felt that most of all when I was finally interviewed. After months of emails and spilling my secrets over a keyboard, I actually got to speak to someone real. I felt like an alien being dissected, being poked, and prodded to see if I had the right reactions.
That interview was five months ago now. I haven’t had to do anything else but wait. My case got put to a level 2, then that decision got revoked and put to a level 3. I was told a final decision would be made in February and then in February I was told it would be March 4. On March 4 I was emailed that they couldn’t disclose the final result because it was appealed and now an appeal process will start. I read between the lines though, my case was upheld.
Between then and now I decided to stop being an empty vessel. I was allowed to be angry at the people that told me to trust them only for them to choose him. I was allowed to demand apologies from the people that ignored the warning signs. I was allowed to cry to my friends. I learnt to rely on the people that deserved it, and forgive the people that asked for it, and stay angry at the people that never stood on their morals.
When something bad happens to you, it’s your choice what you do with it. Not everyone will be a friend to you and not everything will be in your control but there will be days where breathing is easier. You’ll be surrounded by good people that tell you they’re proud of you. You will eat cake and drink wine and smoke cigs and at some point, you will realise you have survived.
Another article you might enjoy: The New Incel