Tom and I rarely have sex anymore, but last night we did for the first time in a very, very long time.

It wasn’t what I wanted it to be at all, though. It didn’t connect us; in fact, when we’d finished, he said just about the cruellest thing anyone has ever said to me.

He said. “The only reason I had sex with you tonight is because when I was walking home from the pub, I saw two women in short skirts who looked really hot. It made me horny. While I was fucking you, I was thinking about them.” He even showed me a photo he’d taken of them. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so degraded in my entire life.

Am I really that vile that he can’t get aroused by me?

This morning, he came downstairs and asked me how many orgasms I’d had last night. I tried not answering him, but he went on and on – although it was fairly lighthearted at that point. Eventually, I said sarcastically, ‘Ah, you know, about thirty!’ He then went very serious and said I couldn’t say or do anything to him today as I’d obviously enjoyed it more than he had.

Over the course of the morning, he made references to the supposed orgasms and each time, he pushed me. The final time, he pushed me in the back of my head quite hard, knocking me forward. I wasn’t hurt, but it was a fairly forceful shove. After the head push, I snapped at him and told him to stop pushing me around, which he did, but he tried to make out that it was nothing, and I was being oversensitive, as usual.

Pushing constitutes physical abuse. It’s starting.

There’s no way he has it in him to stop now; he doesn’t think he does anything wrong. He thinks all the problems in our relationship are because of me, that I’m insane and need to get help.

People like him do not take responsibility for abuse.

If they did, they wouldn’t be abusive in the first place. I do know he’ll never change, but the odd day or two when he’s on his best behaviour is what fools me into thinking it can work; I live for those days. Still.

I’ve known for a long time that I need to do something, but he always turns on the charm, and I’m stupid enough to believe him. I have so many fears about making that final decision to leave that I keep putting it off. I’ve even started taking the blame for everything, and I was stupid enough to tell him things were my fault recently, therefore giving him even more power. I do know, in all seriousness, that this will never be the relationship I want and deserve, but I really don’t know why I can’t find that ‘thing’ within me to make the move.

One thing I do know – from all my hours of research on abuse – once a man starts to become violent, it doesn’t stop. It gets worse each time. Quite often, it starts with a push.

I have to get the children out. I have to get myself out. I should have done it after what happened with Josh. I will probably never forgive myself for not doing that.