The feminist movement of today pisses me off. Here’s a bit of a revelation to you readers. I’ve been raped. Not once but three times. With that said the “She didn’t ask for it” shit doesn’t fly with me. I put myself into two bad situations and they ended up atrociously.
No one asks to be raped, why would we need a movement to say that? I know half of the people reading this will say “Stupid Republicans” the other half will say “Stupid Democrats”. Some will say “Free healthcare” and others will say “No birth control”. None of that even applies.
I was 20 something and going out every night the bar was open with my friends. I felt as if I looked like a potato with curly hair, and my friends were all more attractive than I. I had a few bad decision, went home with a few bad people. I still had the power and ability to say no those times, and whether I did or did not was up to me.
Fast forward to the first night in question. He was a friend of a friend in high school. He actually dated my best friend from high school. He seemed like a good guy. We’d played around for months, he’d buy me a drink or ten, I’d flirt and we kept this give and take going for quite awhile.
That night I wasn’t wearing anything overly sexy. A pair of jeans, an attractive albeit low cut top. I have rather large breasts and most shirts tended to be low cut for that reason. I’d sung my songs, I’d danced my dance, and it was time to go home. He asked me home. I acquiesced.
I’d never seen Sin City, and he felt that was a sin in itself. So I settled down on his couch more than half blitzed out of mind. OK no I was far past the limit of good and bad decision making. In fact my friend who’d let me go with him should have known better than to let me go for that very reason, but this was not her fault either.
I sat on his couch and pulled my feet underneath me, the movie started and he sat down beside me handing me a beer. I drank as we started the film. Fast forward thirty minutes and his arm has made it around my shoulder, and within a few minutes he’s kissing me.
The boy could kiss, we got pretty hot and heavy at that, and suddenly I was being pressed into the couch. I don’t know when it changed from heavy making out, and a possibility that it would become sex, to the holding me down and ripping my clothing off.
I’m not sure when my breath caught in my throat and I felt fear for the first time. I couldn’t breathe. I said “Stop.” But he didn’t. I yelled “STOP” but that did nothing as well. I tried to push him away, I hit at him, I did everything in my power, but he towered over me, and had more muscle mass in a single arm than I had in my whole body.
I shut down, I let him finish, I grabbed my clothes and tossed on as much as I could before rushing outside to call my friend. It felt like hours had transpired, but in reality it had only been about 45 minutes. I was sore. I was now sober, and I was shaking.
I sat outside in the near freezing temps waiting on my ride.
My friend, Jenny, was bubbly even though I knew she’d had no more sleep than I had. It was nearly five a.m. We drove to her house and I sat on her bed, quietly. I don’t think I’d uttered more than three words the entire ride to her place.
Finally, she erupted. “You have to talk to me. Are you ok?! What happened?” Apparently my lack of conversation had finally pushed her over the edge. She knew it wasn’t the ‘fun night’ she’d imagined for me.
I just shook my head, and folded in on myself. That was the last night I went out for a long time. In fact, I think that was the last night I went out in my hometown until a few months ago.
I finally told her “It just wasn’t good. I want to go home.” So she drove me home, and stayed with me the night, too afraid to leave me alone.
It took a long time for me to break away from the feeling that it was entirely my fault. If I hadn’t went with him, if I hadn’t been drinking, if.. if.. if… I didn’t press charges because it wasn’t rape right? I went home with him. He expected it. The fact that I changed my mind, that meant nothing.
I know better now. The reason this movement pisses me off is I know I did ask for it. He should have stopped. That’s not the point. He should have listened. But I asked for it. I went home with him, I put myself there. I said ‘sure’ then I revoked permission. It was rape, I was part of the problem. I was the one who had to get over it. I’m not sure I have.
There is more I’m afraid another bad decision, and then the third is intermingled with the AAA. I may write those up I might not, but I just can’t do it today. Thanks for reading.