Stacey’s story

True Stories


Stacey’s story

We spent hours in bed when we first met. We were young and the sex was great and it was pretty much all we wanted to do. But life changes for everyone and yes, spending the day in bed when you’re 18 is a good idea, but then jobs come along, you start thinking about a family and your priorities change.

Even later I reckon we had more sex than other couples but it was never enough for him. We’d both come in late from work and there would be dinner to cook, the house would be a tip, and all he could think about was when we’d have sex. If we left it more than a couple of days the tension was terrible – he’d hardly even look at me and I felt like he hated me. So more often than not I’d do it just to get the man who loved me back again.

In 1999 I had a load of health problems. I was really run down and ended up with glandular fever which laid me low for months. Everything was a struggle and all I wanted to do was lie on the settee – I had no energy for anything.

He just didn’t get it. He said I was making excuses, that if I didn’t want to have sex with him it was because I didn’t love him, even that I was having an affair with his best mate. It got worse and worse and I’d dread him coming home because I knew it would start all over again as soon as he walked through the door.

I never imagined he’d rape me. Twice. And then tell me he’d done nothing wrong, that it was his right as my husband and that I was a frigid cow.

I never told anyone why I left him and a lot of them couldn’t understand why we’d split up. Lots of our friends sided with him and I’ve been made out to be the bad one, the troublemaker. They’d probably never believe me if I told them what really happened but that’s their problem. I know I’ve done the right thing.


All names and identifying details have been changed to protect individuals involved.