What Do You Want In A Woman? "My Dick."

I looked for work every day, but to no lucky end, all while hopping from couch to couch until I landed in the spare room of a friend's mom's house. A few months in, I ran out of money, and instead of going back home, instead of admitting defeat, I stayed in the car. A TV, some shoes, and my school stuff in the front seat; books and a box of random things in the trunk; and clothes-stuffed bags, blankets, and pillows in the back seat. I traded in my dresser, my midi keyboard, and my broken computer for an extra week to move out. I didn't need them anyway. Most times, my boyfriend would let me sleep with him in the dorms at RIT. That meant not living in my car, but rather out of my car.

I started dating Ron a couple months before the shit hit the fan. Our relationship was nice until I ran out of moeny. Then things started to get sour. I began living out of my car just before the Honeymoon Effect of our relationship wore off. And after it did wear off, he treated sex like part of the girlfriend package. No longer be modest about his constant erections, he instead suggest I do something about it, even in front of people. Oddly, I had a lot of fun staying at RIT with him, even though he sometimes deliberately ignored me or put me down in front of people, or promised me things he'd never deliver and whatnot. Details. Should have registered the first signs, really- like when I invited him to a party, but decided he should go and I should stay to do his laundry. Oh, and the rape? Not that fun.

Yes, sometimes at night, he would be... in the mood, while I was already half asleep, and, well... He made me feel so guilty about not wanting to at that moment, that I felt like I had no choice but to let him. And I never let him see me cry, but I wished every damn time it happened that his roommate would wake up while I pleaded not to do it. I let it happen for seven months. Because I was young. I was one of those stupid girls who just wanted him to love me. Hell, to even pretend to love me, or even like me at that point! It was winter, and even though it wasn't as cold as the previous years, I still didn't want to live in my car. So I let him.

I began spending a lot of time over at my best friend Fin's house. I told her about what was happening. Not in these words, but in innocent, I-don't-really-grasp-the-seriousness-of-this-shit terms, and she looked at me and said, "Dude. That's not cool," and the power of those words hit me and I started to get misty-eyed. That's when I grew a pair and I told him, Look. No more sex at all, until you start acting like you love me or even like me again.

And that was it.

Later, Fin told me that, on that night I left misty-eyed, she had a chat with her boyfriend, who was a good friend of Ron's, and he told him to quit jerking my feelings around and if he didn't want me, then fucking dump me already. And thank you, thank you, thank you Fin for freeing me.

Finally free.
But homeless.
Officially this time.