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Because this blog features stories of interpersonal and sexual violence, we offer this *content warning* as a way of caution. We also ask that you do not reproduce any of the content below, as the authors of these personal stories are anonymous, and cannot give consent for their stories to appear anywhere other than this blog or at a Project Dinah-led SpeakOut event.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

Part 1 of post:

What is rape? Who does it happen between? If I said yes to some things and no to others, was I raped? If it was another woman, was it rape? If I went home with him, with her, was it rape?

Wasted. She was wasted .I was drinking, maybe drunk, don’t we all want to say we were drunk? She pulled me aside and asked if I wanted to come over for a while. Yes? I guess? When would I see her again, I should just take this chance now. Unnecessary urgency. So we went, but someone else is there. A man. A boy? Another college student, a male. He sits in bed with us and we watch TV. This is weird. Why am I here? I want to leave. Instead, he leaves. He goes to the kitchen. She leans over and kisses me. I like the way she kisses. We kiss until I realize he is back. I stop. She tells me it’s okay, he likes to watch. I am uncomfortable. I say no. She tries again. I let it happen for a second. I like it. But I am still uncomfortable. I pull back. Pretend he’s not here. I don’t want to, but after we kiss for a while it gets easier. She kisses my neck. She takes off her shirt. Can you say no to someone else removing clothing? I tell her I want to keep my clothes on. How did it get to a point when I needed to say this? He is sitting next to us in the bed. We are some kind of show. My new and fragile self esteem is shattering. Do you call it coming out when you’ve only told 4 people? When one of them is a bisexual woman trying to remove your pants? This is not good. I tell her no. She kisses me more. She tries again. Okay, but panties on. Okay. We kiss some more, she takes off her bra. I realize that this is nothing the man in the room has not seen. I do not feel good. I feel anxious. She goes down. I tell her no. I tell her underpants on. She says okay. She slides them aside and begins. I let her for a second. I am confused. She found a way around my rule. I am stupid. This is my fault. Why did I let it go this far? I can’t let her anymore. I don’t want to. I tell her I better go. She is shocked. She is offended. She is hurt. He has left the room. Now I am apologizing for asking her to stop. It’s not you. Yes, I do think you’re sexy. I’m sorry. I am just uncomfortable. She tells me I shouldn’t have come over. She asks me what I asked myself: Why did you go this far? She is crying. She says it’s been a hard year. Shit, I don’t even know this woman. I am reassuring her. No one is reassuring me. My panties are wet and uncomfortable. They make me feel dirty and guilty. Obviously I wanted this. He drives me home. I cry to him and tell him to reassure her again. Tell him that I am sorry for denying her. I get to my room and hate myself for being so stupid. Stupid girl, I should have just given it up. Or not gone in the first place. Why did I think I could do something in between? It is my first time with a woman. Or was it? Was it rape? Was it assault? Was it just an unfortunate and unclassified instance? I am ashamed. I don’t tell the other 3 people that know about my sexuality. Half a year later I have only told this blog.

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