t’s always hard for me to start these sorts of conversations. Although I feel a bit more at ease, considering the audience. I’m a victim of multiple forms of abuse, but most recently I’m having issues dealing with date rape. I was raped once, back when I was in middle school and came to terms with what happened. I never once considered it would happen to me again.
I was naive.
It happened six weeks ago at a really inconvenient time. Yeah, I know, it’s NEVER convenient and no one is ever prepared for it. It just further complicated issues with my ex-boyfriend. I was raped by an acquaintance; a friend of a “friend” (I use the term loosely now).
I still blame myself even though I know I shouldn’t. I have some pretty textbook reasons:
• I had too much to drink that night
• I allowed myself to feel safe in a clearly risky situation because I believed that the people I was with had some sort of accountability
• I openly admitted to being attracted to my attacker
• He kissed me once and while I made it clear I was uncomfortable, I did not remove myself from the situation.
I get that it’s not supposed to be my fault but I have a hard time allowing myself to believe that.
I was invited to a party at a coworkers house who I’ve worked with for the past six months. He had some friends staying with him from Chile who were there, too. My coworker, his best friend/my attacker, and several of our co-workers were there.
Beer pong and alcohol consumption wasn’t the problem. There was marijuana present and that illegal activity was my first deterrent to seeking help – there goes some of my credibility.
I hung out with the girls and was doing fine until I was comfortable with the group. We all work together, we have to see each other at work. I took that as we had accountability for our actions.
I broke my self-imposed rule: don’t accept alcoholic drinks at the point you no longer feel the need to drink. I was persuaded by hospitality and the “party vibe.”
I drank too much and at the point that rest of the group was leaving, I decided I was not quite yet ready to drive. I asked to stay a few more minutes before leaving.
I thought I was being responsible.
His buddy speaks about as much English as I do Spanish. My Spanish isn’t fluent but I can get by. Still, he got me alone while we were talking, which wasn’t hard. I know the game, avoid the chick your friend is trying to “impress” and give them space. I spent a good thirty minutes trying to avoid this guy. He kissed me and I pulled away, politely excused myself, and he kept his distance. For a bit.
My coworker and his Chilean guests were very accommodating and offered me their couch to crash on. I politely declined but elected to stay another fifteen minutes. My coworker asked me to dance and I politely declined. Suddenly, he felt tired and went to his room, leaving me alone with his friend.
I felt uneasy, decided I didn’t like the scenario so I went to get my bag off the couch. He told me to sit, sleep here, “don’t drive, you’re drunk,” and took my keys. I would do the same for my friends and I appreciated his concern.
The mood didn’t change – I was still uneasy. Rightfully so. He pulled me in and made an advance in the living room minutes after my coworker retired to bed. He grabbed my bag and keys and took them from me. I explained I needed to leave and he pretended not to understand me – he reminded me that I was drunk.
It’s funny how fear sobers you up.
He pushed me down and got on top of me. What pisses me off more than anything is that I saw it happening and froze. I just fucking froze. The man was on top of me, my arm in between is groin and mine and all I could think was: “make a fist” – and I did. “Bring you arm up. Straight up as hard as you can and run” – I didn’t. I froze. I talked myself out of it.
He tried to kiss me and grope me. He had me beat on upper body strength and I knew it. I was terrified. What if I didn’t stun him and just pissed him off? Then what? He clearly didn’t care about me; would he punch me in the face?
A million questions ran through my mind as I lay there. I looked at him and said “please no, please stop” again and again and again and all he said back “No problem, I understand, no sex”I mean, what the fuck, man. No English isn’t your first language but you plainly made it known you understood me, you jerk!
I tried to pull my panties back up and push him off me – and he just continued. He had to know it wasn’t consensual.
There’s another reason I can’t even look my coworker in the face. I screamed. I stopped being scared and screamed, I begged for help and only got louder. It’d been maybe fifteen minutes after he went to his room. I KNOW, I just KNOW he had to hear something. Someone had to hear something. And no one did anything to help.
After he finished, I laid there and cried. He’d shocked the hell out of me. I didn’t even know how to respond. I get now that it was very controlling but I don’t understand my reaction. I laid on the couch and didn’t – couldn’t – move.
He covered me up with a blanket got down by my face and said three things I’ll never forget: “What is my name?” He asked over and over until I said it. “Give me a kiss,” and he pushed my face to his until I kissed his cheek, and then “Good girl.”
I wanted to spit in his face. I want to kick him in the throat and run screaming for the neighbors to hear. Instead, I listened and I laid there and cried until I was sure he was asleep in the other room. It was two hours before I moved. Then I got dressed, fixed my face, and left.
The guy was a jerk. My co-worker is an enabling scumbag who told me it was my fault
The first person I called, a longtime friend, threatened to tell my mom (who I still haven’t told) if I didn’t go to the police because, “It would be my fault for letting him get away with it and do it again.”
The rape is affecting the relationship I’m in now. The date rape happened while my boyfriend of three years and I were broken up. We weren’t dating but both hoped things between us could be worked out. I had no intention of dating anyone else. Then this happened and I reacted in such stupid crazy ways that even I can’t explain my behavior.
I didn’t want to tell him and I regret telling him because he did exactly what I thought he would – he basically blamed me.
I figured making him want to leave me would be better than dealing with it, so I sent provocative pictures of myself to some random person online hoping he’d just leave me. It seemed like a better alternative. Yes, I know how dumb that sounds. In the end when he questioned why I wanted to hurt him, I felt like utter shit.
I don’t know how I thought hurting him and making him leave me would be better than explaining what happened.
So I explained it. I wish I hadn’t. The first things he said to me were: “how do I know you didn’t cheat on me and just regret it? Did you like it? Did you kiss him at all? You didn’t lead him on at all? How do you know he used a condom and if he did how’s come you waited for him to put it on? If he had time for a condom you had time to do something…”
We’re back together now, but he couldn’t understand why I didn’t want to say anything.
My boyfriend said it’s not my fault sure but he didn’t act like it. He blames me for protecting my co-worker because I won’t tell him where the guy lives so he can kick his ass. And I’m mad at him.
I’m frustrated, tired of trying to explain feelings he can’t understand. I’m sorry for intentionally hurting him, but making him feel better about what happened to me isn’t my job and it’s pissing me off. I want to say:I’m not here to make you feel better, kicking his ass doesn’t change what happened to me it just opens you up to an assault charge.
By now, it’s too late to press charges. I didn’t go to the doctors or police. He and his friend were only staying in the United States for a few weeks and I’m pretty sure he’s already back in Chile. I’m happy I’ll never have to see his face again.
I see it sometimes when I go to sleep. I wake up and hear myself saying his name. I wish I’d have spat in his face but instead I said his name. I’m not sure why he even cared if I knew who he was – it’s not like he’d ever see me again.
I’m confused, upset, pissed off, and tired of trying to sort it out for other people. I haven’t even done that for myself yet.