I saw this yesterday.
My first thought: I feel so lucky that I can't say "Me too."
Second thought: What are you talking about?! You totally have experienced this.
Third thought: That wasn't really sexual assault. Not compared to what others have experienced.
Fourth thought: Maybe that is part of the problem? Have you been so completely socialized to excuse this behavior that you don't even recognize it in your own life?
So here's my story:
I was eighteen coming back home from my three day college orientation on an Amtrak bus. There was a guy that I ended up sitting next to - he was cute, and definitely friendly. He made the long bus ride pass so much more enjoyably!
After blatantly flirting for probably two hours, he asked me for my number. I gave it to him. Honestly, I don't know if I liked him. I remember wanting to experience dating life! I was eighteen.
He invited me to a neighborhood barbecue. He said there would be 30-40 people there are absolutely great food! I believe there was mention of tri-tip - a personal favorite of mine! I was very excited about the whole event.
Only, when I arrived there was no one there except him. And there was certainly no barbecue.
It took maybe five minutes before he tried to kiss me. I turned my head and he kissed my cheek. Only later it turned into my neck, and his hands were everywhere. And when they tried to go under my shirt I pushed his hands away, but I stopped resisting the attempted kisses hoping that would placate him.
Saying no never felt like it was an option as I was so scared. And he didn't understand my twisting away or the dodges. Or if he did, he didn't care.
His mother and sister arrived home at some point. And I was so relieved. So relieved that we were not alone.
Except they were quick to leave us alone again, and I was back to dodging kisses. At one point I claimed I needed to use the bathroom. And I cried softly trying to be quiet - I felt guilty, dirty, and ashamed. But more than that I felt trapped.
His mother made us some food, and then I asked to be taken home. He tried to convince me to stay, but I insisted I needed to go back home. I don't remember what my excuse was. His mother drove us.
I do remember that when I got home - hours before anyone expected me - that no one was home and that the doors were locked. His mother seemed concerned that I was locked out of the house and wanted to wait with me. I was more terrified of him staying with me. So I pretended that my parents were just out in the back carport. And waved them away.
I was so relieved when they left.
Then I sat on the back steps and just cried some more.
Suddenly, I didn't want to date anyone anymore. It didn't seem exciting. I didn't even want to answer the phone because he kept calling.
I also clearly remember the first time a someone confided a rape story to me. I related so much to everything she said. Because all the feelings were the same, including the guilt - we were both convinced it was our fault. Because we should have said no, and we didn't. Both felt unclean and spoiled for weeks afterwards.
I didn't tell her my story though.
I couldn't.
Mine wasn't really sexual assault.
Except that it was, but I don't think I realized that until yesterday.
