My Life Story Time

The Time His Friend Called Me a Slut

*For privacy reason’s names have been changed in this blog post. I do not wish hate on this person and therefore will protect their identity.

I’ve sat down to write this dozens of times. It’s been hard. I end up deleting the document or I leave it unfinished in my saved folder on my computer. I worked through someone literally trying to kill me by writing and talking about it. But I’ve never been able to sit down and write about the anxiety-inducing things that have happened to me by one person over the last 15 years. I think these posts will end up being very cathartic for me.

I was fed lies for so long that even now my brain is telling me to stop writing this because he “wasn’t that bad”. But there’s a part of me, growing every single day that wants to get this out. That needs to get this out.


I met Tyler on myspace in July of 2005. He was a year older than me, but attended the same high school I was about to start at in August of that year. We didn’t talk a whole lot and I do not remember anything other than receiving his AIM screenname (AOL Instant Messenger for those of you that might not know what that is). He would randomly message me over the following year asking who I was. I would tell him and he would tell me his name because I too, had forgotten.

In May of 2006, he messaged me asking the same question. “Who are you? lol.” I told him “I’m Ashley and you’re Tyler.” He thought it was hilarious that I remembered his name. So, we started talking over the next few days, and that Friday we went on a date. I felt like everything was so amazing, so perfect. I was on cloud nine from the moment we met in person.

Over the next month, we grew closer. He bought me gifts (including a promise ring!) and showered me with attention. I met his friends and family, and it seemed like I had really found my Prince Charming. Sure, I was 15, but I was head over heels in love with him.

Then one day while he was away on vacation in another state, I found out, from a friend of his, Tommy, that another one of his friends (let’s call him Mike) had called me a “slut” after we had first met. I was upset. But Tyler was not upset by this at all. In fact, I asked him to talk to his friend, to stick up for me. He agreed it would be a good idea and invited Tommy, Mike and their other friend Kyle over. When Tommy claimed he hadn’t said anything and Tyler accepted that answer, I felt hurt and betrayed. When I tried to explain how it made me feel, he called me “crazy.”

This was the very first instance. Then he turned around the next day and bought me a pair of shoes. I was smitten. I believed that he was sorry and that I really was crazy for wanting him to stick up for me. I thought that maybe I shouldn’t have cared so much. It wasn’t a big deal. And I let it go because he was right, I was “crazy.”

Looking back, this hurts. I allowed someone to manipulate me into thinking that I was crazy and that there really wasn’t an issue with Tommy calling me names even though he didn’t even know me. It wasn’t as if I wanted him to end his friendship. I would never ask that of someone. But I just wanted him to stick up for me. I would have done it for him in a heartbeat. In fact, there were plenty of times I stuck up for him when I shouldn’t have. I’ll get to those later.

I moved passed this and we started school in the fall. He was there for me when I modeled for the back-to-school fashion show at the local mall. I felt like I was on top of the world. Like nothing could ever come between us. We were young and I was in love with the idea of him. The idea he had handed me on a silver platter. The idea that he was the best guy ever and would always take care of me.

This might not seem like that big of a deal to some of you, but I promise this is only the tip of the emotionally abusive iceberg.


Listen to mine and Nathan’s discussion of this post in our NEW podcast! ❤️

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