C’s Story

No one ever anticipates being raped. They hear the statistics, they watch things on TV and think that that won’t ever be them, and that rape fits into a small tiny box of a definition. And it’s not anyone’s fault for believing that. It’s what we’ve been taught. I’m ashamed to say it, but I never thought I’d be “that girl.” I thought I’d be able to prevent that. It’s hard as a person to realize that we’re not invincible, and sometimes things just happen.

I suppose you’re wondering my story. I’ll share it with you. Below I will post an excerpt from my journal that I have edited to conceal my identity.

9/30/13

I don’t know how to handle any of this, but I’m going to try to write every single day because I think it might be the only thing I can do. Even if it’s just a little bit, maybe it will help. I might as well try.

My most important thing right now is to deal with the fact that a little over a week ago, I was raped. That word is so ugly. This guy and I had been casually talking on Facebook and texting and I was hoping to make a new friendship and to be honest I wasn’t attracted to him and I wasn’t completely convinced he was straight.

He and I met up in the dining hall with some of his friends. It was all super casual and he and I talked about loving Kevin Spacey movies. So we went back to my dorm to watch “Horrible Bosses.”

Maybe I should’ve been suspicious, but I suppose you can never fully be sure of one’s intent. He put the movie on and we sat down. He kept getting super close to me, so I kept scooting away. He touched my boob and tried to kiss me, but I said “No. I don’t want to. I don’t want to be that girl.”

I thought he’d respect that. We kept talking and it seemed like everything was okay. He asked some casual questions about my dating history and I let it slip that I’d recently gotten out of a long term relationship and have been seeing other people ever since. Then he tried to kiss me again. I just thought “Okay. I’ve kissed guys before. I can do this.” He practically slobbered all over my face and it was just awkward.

I stopped saying anything for awhile. Then he said, “You wanna know something? I have a huge dick,” to which I responded that I didn’t really need to know that. He pulled off his clothes. He kept begging me to blow him and shoving his dick in my face, so finally I did. I’d done it before, what made this different?

After he came (in my garbage can), he put his clothes on and laid next to me for awhile. We ended up arguing about politics and he told me he could never date me. Luckily I’d never even intended to date him. His views on the world simply confirmed that. Then he asked if I wanted to go for a second round. I said “no.”

So he pulled off his clothes again and continued to shove his dick in my face. When I finally put it in my mouth, he kept thrusting it down my throat until I gagged. He did it even after I told him to stop.

Then he wanted to get me naked. I said “no” and that I was on my period but said someday with the right girl, period sex isn’t something to shy away from. I guess then he took that as that day. He used a condom. The actual sex is all a blur to me because I was focusing on trying to keep myself together and waiting for it to be done. I think I remember him saying that he knew I wanted it (right out of a Robin Thicke song) and kept asking if it felt good. Of course I said yes.

When he was done, he put his clothes on, mumbled something about pushing me and feeling douchey, but I tried to reassure him that it was all consensual.

The minute he left I wondered why I hadn’t kicked him out. I started to feel like crap. I ended up washing my sheets and clothes, I showered, and realized that I thought he brought the condom with him when he left.

I didn’t tell anyone for almost a week. I felt like it was all my fault. I finally told a select few people. On Friday, I went to the woman’s center at my school to report what happened. My advocate was super nice and I told her everything that I could, including my question as to why I didn’t make him leave. She said “In a stressful situation they always say that the responses are fight or flight. They forget the third one: freeze. What are you supposed to do when someone mugs you? Comply. So it’s not your fault you didn’t kick him out. You were trying to keep yourself safe.” I need to remember this.

I won’t get into my feelings tonight, but I will recount the rest of what happened. After I reported being assaulted, I went to the doctor to make sure I didn’t have any STIs and luckily I was in the clear. I reported to the university that I attend and not to the police because I knew I’d never have the physical evidence for him to be convicted. I didn’t need that kind of humiliation, since this guy humiliated me in every sense possible.

The university filed a report against him. He came in and told his side of the story. He tried to make it seem like I was really into it, but did mention I had said no and had been hesitant. He claimed that I referred to myself as the “college whore” which is the most demeaning thing I’ve ever been called and would never refer to myself like that. But he got people to believe that he wasn’t a rapist. And that is a rapist’s power. The university put him on academic probation for a year. That’s it. Sometimes it’s kind of a slap in the face because the school told me they believed me, but apparently they didn’t believe me enough.

Maybe it’s okay that he’s just on academic probation though. I don’t want to ruin his life like he tried to ruin mine. I just hope he never does this to someone else. That’s all I can ask for, right?

-C.

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