reader submissions. It is an attempt to allow people to tell their
personal stories, in the hopes of bringing greater compassion to the
unique issues each of us face. If you would like to submit a story to
this series, click here. Today’s guest posts is by anonymous reader.
I debated the
title of this for a while. “Being Date Raped” didn’t sound right cause
it made it seem like it was happening right now. And it’s not…to me,
at least.
I wasn’t a promiscuous girl. In high school or
college. I guess I made out with my fair share of boys, but I was
young. And it was fun. No apologies there.
I stayed in my
college town another year to finish grad school. One night, I went to a
party. Not a rager, not a huge drunken orgy. Just some people at a
friends’ house, playing pool and singing Dashboard Confessional at the
top of our lungs.
During this party, I managed to consume an
entire bottle of red wine on my own. I didn’t realize it until it was
time for me to leave and standing up sent me into a crazy case of the
spins.
A male friend offered to drive me home. I’d known him for a while so I honestly had no problem getting into the car with him.
But
I realized he wasn’t taking me to my house. I could tell we were going
to his house and my mouth wouldn’t form the words to protest. Plus, we
were friends…I’d been to his house before, so why should this be a
problem?
I remember I was wearing a halter top with a cardigan
over it. A fuchsia cardigan. He brought me into his bedroom and
started taking off my clothes. He said I’d be more comfortable without
my clothes on. I crawled under the covers of his bed and passed out.
He
had a sliding glass door in his room. I woke up when the the light
started shining through it. It was then I realized, to my silent
horror, that he was having sex with me. At that very moment, he was
having intercourse. With me. Fear kept me still, as he both slapped
and choked me while this was happening. He told me I was his little
whore. I laid still until it was over and then he drove me home.
It
was 8am when I got back to my apartment and my roommate was still
asleep. I sat in my room, staring at the wall, and processed what had
happening. I didn’t tell a soul. For years.
Later, as an
auditor working at a non-profit client, I saw a poster in their
breakroom saying “If the person is too drunk to consent, it is rape.” I
stared at it for the longest time. I didn’t think I’d been raped. I
hadn’t screamed or fought. But I hadn’t consented either. He did it
anyway.
I didn’t tell anyone until several years later. I was
married. I finally told my husband so he’d know why I didn’t want him
to touch me or look at me while I was changing. Someone had stolen the
innocence from my marriage and I felt guilty for the longest time. And
still do, although things are much better.
What I want you to
know most is that if you encounter someone who has been date raped, do
not tell them they shouldn’t have put themselves in that position. Do
not tell them they shouldn’t have drank an entire bottle of wine.
Drinking does not give anyone the right to have my body. It is a sick
individual who takes advantage of a girl. No matter what.
It affects my marriage, too.
My husband was expecting a vibrant, active sex life
that was ruined by some idiot looking to satisfy his own domineering
desires. Thank God for men like him, who are willing to work through
issues that he had nothing to do with, yet has to suffer the
consequences of.
I want rape victims to know to SPEAK UP. You’ll be a stronger person and you will heal.
