I Fell in Love with the Man Who Molested Me
About abuse, emotional attachment, and wounds that are not always visible.
I used to believe that missing someone meant I loved them. I didn't understand why I wanted the attention of someone who had once made me afraid. Years later, I began to realize that the effects of abuse don't always end when the abuser stops.
This is not a story meant to justify the abuser. It is a story about how complicated the effects of childhood abuse can be, and why we should not judge victims simply because their feelings do not match what we expect them to feel.
Page 1 — The Man I Should Never Have Fallen for
He was my father's friend. When I was little, he often came to our house and treated me kindly. However, behind his kindness, there were things he did that made me uncomfortable. He touched my neck, back, and thighs without my consent.
Every time he did it, I always asked him to stop.
"Please, stop."
"Please, stop."
I said those words because I was afraid. I didn't understand why an adult man would be interested in touching a little girl like me. To me, his actions were strange and frightening. I didn't like it, and I didn't want him to touch me.
Afterward, I told my father what had happened. He looked angry, but he didn't do anything. He didn't even confront the man. At the time, I felt as though what had happened to me wasn't important enough for my father to take action.
When I turned sixteen, his behavior became increasingly disturbing. He often looked at me in ways that made me uncomfortable.
One day, he came to our house as usual. By chance, no one else was home except me. I was alone in the living room when he came inside.
Without warning, he pushed me onto a chair and gripped my thigh very tightly.
"Hey, stop. I'm scared. Please, stop."
At first, he ignored my pleas. I kept begging him until he finally saw me crying. Only then did he stop, apologize, and leave.
After that incident, he no longer looked at me the way he used to.
I thought he had distanced himself because he felt sorry for me. However, later I learned that his own daughter had been sexually abused by someone else and had become pregnant as a result.
I don't know for certain what made him change. I can only guess that what happened to his daughter may have made him realize how terrible the things he had done to me were.
Whatever his reason, the experience left something behind that was not easy to forget.
Page 2 — Three Confusing Years
For three years, he no longer showed me any attention.
Strangely, as time went by, I began to miss him.
I missed his presence. I wanted him to pay attention to me again, talk to me, and be around me as he had before.
Those feelings confused me. Hadn't I once been afraid of him? Hadn't I cried and begged him to stop touching me?
Then why was I now hoping he would come back?
I didn't know the answer. I only knew that something inside me kept waiting for his attention.
I even began to wonder whether he no longer wanted me. It was as though the loss of his attention was something I should mourn, rather than something that should have made me feel safer.
At the time, I didn't understand my own feelings. I didn't realize that my childhood experiences might have influenced the way I viewed attention and closeness with him.
Now, I am eighteen. Whenever he comes to visit my father, I deliberately leave my room just to see him.
I hope he will look at me again.
But he always looks away.
I feel angry with him. Not only because he ignores me, but also because he seems able to carry on with his life without thinking about what he once did to me.
Meanwhile, I am still carrying feelings I cannot understand.
Part of me resents him because of our past. Yet another part of me still wants his attention.
I want to tell him that he has left something inside me. I want him to understand that what happened did not simply end when he left my house three years ago.
Unfortunately, I still don't fully understand what is happening inside me.
Page 3 — When His Attention Returned
After some time, he started looking at me again.
I felt happy. He even began speaking to me gently and treating me romantically.
I found myself becoming attracted to his face. He seemed different from the other older men I knew. There was a gentleness in the way he spoke to me that made me even more interested in him.
I knew something was wrong with my feelings, but at the time, I didn't want to question them too deeply.
One day, he came to our house and found me asleep on the sofa, wearing shorts. I wasn't trying to seduce him or get his attention. I had simply fallen asleep, unaware that he would be coming over.
He sat near my feet and watched me while I was still asleep.
When I woke up, I found him stroking the soles of my feet.
I was startled.
"How long have you been here?"
He smiled and said, "Good morning, my sweet little doll."
I let out a small laugh because the nickname sounded strange.
"What kind of nickname is that? That's so weird."
"You look so much like a doll. You're so beautiful," he replied.
I didn't know how to respond. I just felt shy because I was receiving the attention I had wanted for so long.
Not long afterward, my older brother arrived. Fortunately, he hadn't heard our conversation.
At that moment, I was more focused on how the man was treating me again than on remembering that he had once made me afraid.
I didn't realize how easily his attention could make me forget the questions I should have been asking myself.
Why did I want his attention so badly?
Why did I feel happy when he treated me gently, even though I still remembered the fear I had felt because of him?
I didn't have the answers yet.
Page 4 — A Relationship That Should Never Have Happened
After that incident, he left nervously. When my older brother asked why he was at our house, I said he had only come to ask my father something.
I lied because I didn't want my brother to become suspicious of our closeness.
From that point on, I thought about him more and more. Small gestures of attention from him could make me blush, while his absence made me miss him.
Eventually, we entered into a forbidden relationship.
For several months, I allowed myself to become immersed in those feelings. I loved him, or at least that was how I understood what I felt at the time.
However, little by little, I began to realize that our relationship was not as simple as I wanted to believe.
He wasn't just a man I liked. He was an adult who had molested me when I was still a child.
I began questioning our relationship. Did I truly feel safe with him? Did I love him for who he was, or was it because I had spent so long longing for the attention he had once given me?
I couldn't answer all those questions. But I knew that this relationship should never have happened.
One night, while I was sitting alone, he came over and sat beside me.
I took a deep breath before finally speaking.
"I think our relationship needs to end here."
He looked at me. I could see that he was reluctant to part ways, but I tried to stand by my decision.
I didn't want to cry. I wanted to appear strong, as though the decision wasn't hurting me.
But my tears fell anyway.
"I really love you," I said, my voice trembling.
He hugged me and kissed the top of my head.
"It's okay. This is the right choice. I'm sorry for making things this way for you. I truly feel guilty."
I cried in his arms.
For the first time, I tried to choose what I believed was right, even though my own feelings refused to let him go.
Page 5 — Feelings Don't Change the Past
Before we truly parted ways, I kissed him one last time.
Honestly, I didn't want to let go of his embrace. I called his name several times while holding him tightly, as though doing so could delay a goodbye I didn't want.
When I looked at his face, I saw a sadness I had never seen before.
I didn't know what he was truly feeling. I only knew that, at that moment, we finally had to let go of something we had been holding on to.
After we parted, we went on with our separate lives. He spent more time with his family, while I kept myself busy with my work abroad.
Life went on. Yet the experiences I had gone through remained part of my story.
In the past, I thought my longing was proof that I truly loved him. Now, I'm beginning to understand that human feelings are not always easy to explain. Someone can miss the attention of a person who once hurt them without that making the person's actions acceptable.
I don't know whether my feelings back then came entirely from love, a need for attention, or a mixture of many things I didn't yet understand. I only know that I once wanted to be close to someone who had also made me afraid.
And that is the hardest part for me to understand.
Sometimes, the effects of abuse don't stop when the abuser stops touching the victim. Those effects can carry over into the way a victim sees themselves, understands affection, and builds relationships with others.
However, not every victim will experience the same thing. Some distance themselves from the abuser, some hate them, some feel confused, and others develop an emotional attachment. No single response represents every victim.
A victim's feelings are not proof that the abuse was wanted. Whatever the victim feels afterward, responsibility for the abuse remains with the abuser.
This story is not about proving that love can justify everything.
It is about someone trying to understand her own feelings after experiencing something that should never have happened to her.
Because sometimes, wounds don't always look like hatred.
Sometimes, wounds take the form of longing.
And sometimes, it takes a long time for someone to understand that attention, affection, and love should never come at the cost of feeling safe.
