I was in a relationship for 5 years with a pedophile

I’m getting out of a relationship that started when I was 15 3/4 years, which lasted about 4 1/2 years, with a man 7 years older than me who has already brought me to my knees psychologically. My childhood was marked by pedophilia and various forms of violencedespite the rather petty bourgeois environment in which I grew up.

“When we meet, Martin ticks all the boxes”

I’m almost 21 and I’m looking for a mature man, but my age, who I won’t necessarily like physically but who will please me mentally and emotionally. I have specifics to respect: he must be more or less my age, he must be simple, but he also had some difficulties – I’m afraid I am not understood without this -, he works, he has no addictions, that he is open to a truly exclusive relationship with strong commitment, in short, not a “problem man”. A normal man will satisfy me, as long as he offers me his heart and his loving stability, which he assures me.

I meet Martin and everything goes very quickly as he ticks all the boxes. He tells me he had a younger criminal record stating he stood up for a girl about to be raped and nearly killed her attacker. His older brother died in a motorcycle accident a long time ago.

Martin likes metal, he’s Basque, he’s exactly my age, exactly my height, physically I don’t like it much but I don’t want to spit on what it seems to me to offer: a simple and reassuring relationship on both sides. ‘other.

I who always tend to give a lot, disproportionately, find in him an emotional reciprocation that makes me want to continue. I tell him about a minor abuse I suffered: he reacts by telling me how serious it is and shows compassion. He is the first to exhibit such behavior. He’s waiting for me after I’ve found the courage to go and file a complaint. Later, my psychiatrist will explain to me that he did it to manipulate me, unfortunately a very classic case of smoking.

In bed, it’s flat. I think he is shy, may be inhibited, I question him or try to start conversations about it, without success. I think time will work for him and with more intimacy and trust, things will improve between us.

After a few months of relationship, we move together to the Basque Country and he changes little by little, imperceptibly: more distant, colder, much on the computer. He lets go of his work. I find myself paying for everything. The easygoing metalhead with a dominated dark past is slowly disappearing.

I end up believing he is cheating on me and I’m looking for his computer.

“There was never a girl attacked, she just piled up identical videos”

This is where the hell begins. I come across the incomprehensible. Child pornography videos accumulate in his archives. Babies, children. An abyss opens in me.

He’s a pedophile. When I slept, when I worked, he watched everything. A pedophile penetrated me, I kissed a pedophile, I protected him, I loved my best. I’m calling the police right away.

Gets there before them, I’m mad with rage and scared shitless. I tell him that I have discovered everything.

I’m scared of him, scared of the police coming, I dare not ask anyone for help, who would understand?

When the police arrived, they made me sit on the sofa, took away his computer and interrogated him, telling him of a repeat offense. Does he relapse? The abyss I thought was bottomless still widens a little deeper in my head. There had never been a “punched attacked girl”. She had simply, at 16, accumulated identical videos.

They take me with them to testify. I get into their car, not unmarked, luckily not with him. As an educator specializing in teenagers, I am afraid that people will see me in the back of their car, that they will think that I have done something wrong, and the guilt grows more and more, during the hearing where the policeman looks at me so serious that I i feel guilty.

“I tell myself I have to take care of it”

He explains that he will be in custody for 48 hours and asks me to pack a bag for him. And it was this bag that brought everything to a head. Back home, to the “we”, guilty of I don’t know what, I find myself thinking of him with compassion, as if he did it because I hadn’t been there enough. Choosing his things, t-shirt, jeans, toothbrush, toothpaste, I tell myself I have to take care of it.

That no one will understand. That everyone will think that I lied, that I defamed him, or that I sought him out, that I, a victim of pedophilia, wanted this pedophile.

Coming back from the police station where I left his things, I tell myself that no man will ever want me again. Too dirty, too twisted trash magnet. That Martin and I are a couple, after all, and that perhaps my mission is to be with him, to heal him. It’s driving me crazy, I physically suffer thinking about all this but I can’t think of anything else.

I talk about it with a friend who doesn’t answer much and will never tell me about it again. I am ashamed, the impression that I dragged her into my filth, I will shut up and not tell anyone about it. Years later, I learn that this friend hastened to inform all of our acquaintances, which hasn’t prevented anyone, despite the gossip, from welcoming him, him, with me, for aperitifs, without ever wondering what was going on behind the scenes. masks.

Read also: How is France and the world fighting against the scourge of child crime?

“I wait for him when he comes out of trial, secretly hoping he goes to jail”

Why yes, I’m with him.

Upon his return from police custody, he waits for me at the back of the building and asks if he can come up. I had prepared to tell him to leave forever, and in front of him, bleak, crestfallen, I shut down and let him return to our life together. I know how it feels to be unhappy, sad, and I project onto him all the discomfort and loneliness I’ve had in the past. My psychiatrist would explain to me much later that he was, once again, in full manipulation and that this type of person doesn’t really feel the feelings that “classic” people do.

Will relapse several times, in 5 years of relationship. I will constantly watch him, sleep with him, try to rehabilitate him professionally. He will constantly disgust me but I will feel bonded to him, wasted, guardian.

He has a trial for possession of child pornography, I wait for him at the exit secretly hoping he will go to jail: it only has a mandatory psychological follow-up and a sum to pay.

I will never report this to the police again – I remember what happened when I did, and it was too hard, too unsuccessful. I limit myself to confronting him by scouring his computer and preventing any meeting, even remote, with the children.

Obviously I don’t see myself doing anything with him.

He will try to deceive me, without success, but this almost reassures me: if he has sexual relations with adults, not only with me but also with others, then is he “salvable”? He was actually looking for a “blank page” mate.but this, I don’t understand right away.

My trial takes place and through evidence and confessions I “win” against one of my pedophiles, the one Martin had been encouraging me to take action against from the start. Martin participates, I hope it seals his recovery as he totally sees what can happen to a victim of pedophilia. Gold, pedophiles have little or no empathyeven if they know how to pretend.

I have gained 20 kilos, I am constantly in hate, fear, pain and keep my mask on in public.

In the end, after a year of marriage, the hatred has grown too much. I start hunting pedophiles online and realize I’m good at it. After the filing of a first file, which leads to the arrest and conviction of a pedophile, I feel stronger. I announce to Martin that I will leave him some time later, and I feel euphoric, free, determined.

His mother, on the phone, when I told her of my departure and his anniversaries, asked me not to report him. I will report it via email to the prosecutor explaining that now it is no longer my responsibility, but that of the company.

I’m losing weight, I still consider myself undesirable, I guess nobody will ever want me and I won’t…and I’m wrong as I’m meeting my future husband in a few weeks after having a brief encounter. We have three children together.

I haven’t seen Martin since our divorce was finalized. I know seeing him again would give me no relief, just a surge of that toxic blend of hate, deep loathing and fear.

Read also: This mother warns about pedophiles gangrenizing TikTok

“So sometimes I still feel anxious: if he lived with the children? »

Anyway, I asked Martin never to go near the children again, never to marry a woman with children, never to have children himself. I told him that if I ever knew of such a situation, I will let the truth out.

So sometimes I still feel anxious: if he lived with the children? What if he moved on to the next stage (and which one)?

I’m having a really hard time dealing with the memories of all of this. He still spins around in my head very often, especially since having continued the hunt for pedophiles for a long time, the images he discovered traumatized me even more. I have since quit. I really don’t know what to conclude from all of this, other than:

If you are in a situation comparable to mine, speak up and leave. Two keywords that are easy to understand. Whatever happens, speak up. As many people as possible. Search resources, help. And then also leave, or make him leave. It doesn’t matter if you have children together, if he pays the rent. He finds a solution and leaves. A pedophile does not want to be treated, he just wants to satisfy his urges with as much impunity as possible. He will know how to use as many jigs as needed for this and pull all the strands. It’s cold inside.

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