My Tibetan boyfriend from my schooldays had been very difficult for me to be with. He was very controlling of me. On weekends, when I went to see him, he sometimes locked me in his apartment when he went out. He’d be gone all day, then come back drunk in the middle of the night. There wasn’t always food in the room for me, and no bathroom. When he did come back, he expected me to have sex with him, and would beat me if I refused.
There was no way for me to get out to use the bathroom, since he’d take the key with him, so I’d have to pee in a bottle. One night, he came home very drunk and was thirsty. He picked up a bottle I’d peed in and drank it. By the time I realized what he was doing, he was already drinking it. I was afraid he’d beat me if I said anything, so I kept quiet while he finished the bottle. Other nights when he came home drunk, I could hear him fighting with friends in front of the room. They would fight very earnestly, to the point that I thought he might be killed or seriously injured. I wasn’t necessarily worried about his well being, but I did worry about getting back out of the room again if something happened to him.
I didn’t enjoy being with him, but he was better than some other men. Other people thought he was a very good person, a quiet person who didn’t make too much trouble. Like my father, he got very bad when he drank. He wasn’t bad when he was sober, but we were not that close either. We didn’t share our feelings, and when people don’t share their feelings, they don’t develop close relationships. I figured staying with him was better than being with other men I knew, and if I didn’t have any boyfriend, lots of men would harass me for sex.