Too danger­ous to date!

Why my ex comes with his own health warn­ing Chloe Buck, 22, Goole, East York­shire

Chat - - Contents -

When a friend re­quest from Jonathan Binks, 25, popped up on my Face­book, I clicked through to look at his pro­file.

With spiky hair and glasses, he looked cute, if a bit geeky.

Hey beau­ti­ful, how are you?

he mes­saged min­utes later. I was intrigued. We agreed to meet for a drink in the lo­cal pub. ‘You’re gor­geous,’ he grinned.

The next day, he wanted to make our re­la­tion­ship of­fi­cial on Face­book.

Bit quick...

But af­ter such a lovely date, I threw cau­tion to the wind.

It was Septem­ber 2014 and af­ter a rough cou­ple of years, I won­dered if Jony would bring me the slice of hap­pi­ness I reck­oned was badly over­due.

Things con­tin­ued at break­neck speed.

Within weeks, I’d moved from my hos­tel into his flat.

‘I’d love to have kids with you,’ he told me one night. ‘I’m only 18,’ I laughed. But se­cretly, the idea of a baby made me giddy. So when I fell preg­nant weeks later, I was over the moon.

Jony was, too. Not only that, he was in­stantly pro­tec­tive.

‘I need to know where you’re go­ing to­day,’ Jony said as he left for work as a tyre fit­ter.

‘I might pop into town,’ I shrugged.

‘I’d rather you stayed here, now that you’re car­ry­ing my baby,’ he said coolly.

At first, I thought he was jok­ing – but he looked se­ri­ous.

Days later, he got drunk and started shout­ing at me. ‘You’re an ugly slag,’ he spat. Tak­ing his rage out on the flat, he smashed a pint glass and kicked the cof­fee table across the room. I was con­fused and scared, tears stream­ing down my face. Af­ter­wards, he came and hugged me tightly. ‘I didn’t mean it,’ he sobbed. I didn’t know what to say, so I just stood there limply, my heart rac­ing. But the out­bursts only got worse. When I was six months preg­nant, Jony shoved me af­ter a row, spit­ting in my face. Next morn­ing, he texted me from work.

Look out the win­dow.

Peer­ing out, I saw the lawn was scat­tered with red roses, spell­ing out three words.

I love you.

My head and heart do­ing a tug of war, I re­lented. For the sake of our baby, I gave Jony an­other chance. In July 2015, our beau­ti­ful son Har­vey was born. He was the light of my life, but Jony seemed set on ru­in­ing things. His mood swings were fe­ro­cious. One minute he was declar­ing his love, the next... ‘Even Har­vey thinks you’re a cr*p mum,’ he sneered one day when our boy wouldn’t stop cry­ing. ‘Well, why don’t you look af­ter him, then?’ I cried, ex­as­per­ated.

Jony al­ways moaned that he was too tired to help, but he was never too tired for sex.

And in May 2016, I found out I was ex­pect­ing again.

‘Har­vey is go­ing to have a lit­tle play­mate,’ I beamed. ‘Whose is it?’ Jony scowled. ‘Yours!’ I said, shocked. ‘Rub­bish,’ he spat. ‘Get that baby aborted or I’ll throw you down the stairs and do it for you.’

Shak­ing, I stormed out.

How could a man who looked so timid be so nasty?

I’d started to hate him, but I felt trapped.

Jony never failed to point out when I put on weight, mak­ing me loathe my body.

Feel­ing ugly, I was cer­tain that if I left Jony, no­body else would have me. So I stayed.

Weeks later, at the su­per­mar­ket, I was push­ing Har­vey in his pram.

Jony stormed off ahead in an­other huff.

When I caught up with him, he snapped, ‘What are you walk­ing so slowly for?’

Then he head-butted me hard in the face.

I burst into tears, my fore­head throb­bing, and stag­gered home.

In­stead of mak­ing it up to me, Jony ig­nored me for days. I’d never felt so alone. But with a tod­dler and an­other baby on the way, I saw no way out.

A few months later, I was

How could a man who looked so timid be so nasty..?

paint­ing the nurs­ery for the new baby.

‘Can you give me a hand?’ I called to Jony.

He came and looked in, and a dark scowl swept over his face.

‘You’ve done a rub­bish job,’ he told me.

He grabbed a tin of white paint and poured it over my head, howl­ing with laugh­ter.

Paint filled my mouth and stung my eyes, and I stum­bled to the bath­room to wash it off.

That was the fi­nal straw.

I moved into my own place, blocked Jony’s num­ber and got a re­strain­ing order against him.

In Fe­bru­ary 2017, I gave birth to Toby, with my sis­ter Sarah, 35, by my side. My baby was per­fect. A re­minder that fresh starts are pos­si­ble.

So when an old friend asked me out on a date, I agreed.

But while we were at the bar, Jony ap­peared.

He walked straight over and punched my date in the back of the head.

I re­ported the in­ci­dent to the po­lice and Jony was ar­rested.

In June this year, Jonathan Binks, 29, ap­peared at Bev­er­ley Mag­is­trates Court. He pleaded guilty to breach­ing his re­strain­ing order against me and was sen­tenced to 16 weeks in prison.

He also got an­other 16 weeks for as­sault­ing two other women, and eight weeks for as­sault­ing my date.

Un­usu­ally, the court im­posed a Crim­i­nal Be­hav­iour Order, stat­ing that Binks has to alert the court within two weeks of start­ing a new re­la­tion­ship, so the women he dates can be warned of his his­tory. It makes me feel bet­ter know­ing that Binks will be mon­i­tored and steps will be taken to pro­tect his fu­ture girl­friends. But af­ter ev­ery­thing he put me through, I think he’s got off lightly. I’m hav­ing coun­selling for post-trau­matic stress disor­der (PTSD) and if it wasn’t for the sup­port I’ve had from a do­mes­tic abuse char­ity, I don’t know how I would have car­ried on. Now I live for my two boys. I want them both to grow up into de­cent men who treat women with re­spect, not like their dad.

Af­ter what he put me through, he’s got off lightly

For help and sup­port, call the Na­tional Do­mes­tic Vi­o­lence Helpline on 0808 2000 247 or visit refuge. org.uk

I was bruised and hu­mil­i­ated

I thought Jony would bring me hap­pi­ness

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