A sex ed blog with more
This is not an especially graphic tale. I tend to be all about detail, but I don’t think it’s necessary in this case. TBH, this little preamble is simply so that the preview on social media isn’t triggering. At least, that’s my goal. Cause I don’t beat around the bush.
I was raped. It finally happened. What a fucked up follow-up thought.
What I feel is not what I know to be true. It’s all conflicting and valid and frustrating. So, it went from a handjob to suddenly him on top of me with no warning. He didn’t check, didn’t ask. Hell, all he had to do was put his hand between my legs to know. AND HE DIDN’T REALIZE THAT I WASN’T INTO IT. This is my big hang up. HOW. How did he not know?! We’ve had sex several times before. I thought he knew how my body responds and how it works. We were sex positive and working towards kinky.
I think he thought that I was as ready for intercourse as he was. He made it all about him, and I was an accessory. How dare he. I am so much more than that. He’s a good guy who made a mistake, a HUGE mistake. A mistake that I’m still feeling in the discomfort in my genitals two days later. So maybe he’s not such a good guy? I don’t know.
I’m questioning my judgment of people, my desire to help and comfort and take care of people (something I hold dear), my thoughts as it was happening and my response of “Well, that was unexpected.”
I don’t like that I thought “OW! Noooooo. I don’t want this. Well, hopefully my body will respond quickly so it won’t hurt so much.” Or that I was so thrown off I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t push him off or say no or stop. I was frozen. We had had tickle fights and play fights, and I know that he is MUCH stronger than I. I know that if he lays on top of me, I can only wriggle.
It never, ever, occurred to me that he would become so blinded as to forget that I’m a person. In my mind, sex is about the other person; making sure that everyone is experiencing pleasure. He made it all about him and forgot me. What a fascinating new experience.
I don’t feel like it’s a Big Deal right now. I know that it is, but it doesn’t really feel real. I feel mostly okay, aside from wondering “HOW THE FUCK DID THAT HAPPEN” And honestly, “How the fuck did that happen to ME?!” (This is a highly problematic question/thought. I know.) I am HIGHLY communicative about sex, and my needs. I know that I did nothing wrong; And yet I think I probably could have done more. But he became someone I didn’t recognize.
Part of me wants to tell a whole bunch of his people that he did this terrible thing and didn’t even know he was doing it, which makes it so much worse. By that, I mean that he knew we were having sex. He thought it was consensual. It was not, and thus, it is rape.
I’m really proud of how I responded after the fact. I could’ve woken him up a few hours later and had a conversation face to face, but I needed to get out of that apartment asap. Here’s how the text conversation went:
He said “I will. I am so sorry. I didn’t realise.”
My final statement to him: “Yeah, dude. That’s the problem. Sex is about the other person but you made it all about you and forgot entirely about me. ALWAYS CHECK. You’re better than that.” At least, I hope he’s better than that.
I think it’s also helpful to hear something along the lines of “Holy fuck. That is not okay! I am absolutely here for whatever you need. You are so strong and I am proud of you.” Thank you, friends. And the craziest thing is how many of my friends completely understand. I heard, “Did you panic and freeze? Cause that’s what happened to me.” I heard, “Yeah, fuck that guy. I hate it when they do that.” I heard, “I’m not surprised you didn’t say anything. My voice disappeared, too.”
“Me, too.” It is powerful, and that’s why there’s an important movement. But also, WHAT THE FUCK HOW RIDICULOUS THAT WE NEED THIS. UGH.
My engrained response was immediately to make sure that he’s okay. But I chose to wait 24 hours after messaging him to decide on my next step. Now, I’ve deleted our conversation and we are no longer friends on social media. It’s not my job to take care of him.
This happened Saturday morning, and then I hosted a housewarming with my incredible housemates Saturday night. Super fantastic party and I’m so glad we did it. Sunday was recovery day, which involved several shows and movies on Netflix. I realized Monday afternoon that I use Netflix as a way to shut off my brain. If I am watching something, I don’t have to think about whatever is going on in my head, and I can cry about the characters or situation rather than about what’s actually going on with me. To be honest, I’m writing this because I sat down in a coffee shop with only my thoughts and this is what came pouring out.
I am angry. I am uncomfortable, physically. I am second guessing myself. I am replaying the events of the night in my mind, trying to figure out which signals I gave that may have led him to believe that I wanted to engage in intercourse. I am struggling to focus on much else.
It doesn’t feel right to call it trauma. It almost doesn’t feel right to call it rape. It was both of these things, but it doesn’t feel like I thought it might. I don’t even know if that make sense. Like I thought it would be worse? I’m not trying to say there’s a hierarchy of pain or trauma. It’s not a situation of “It’s not as bad as X.” It’s just … not that bad… And that feels super strange. Everything I have been taught and researched and understood is that rape is the fucking worst. It’s a horrible violation that impacts a person’s entire life forever. That’s not true for me. Not right now, anyway.
Like, it’s bad. It sucks. I am supremely disappointed in this person I was dating, whom I thought incapable of such a thing. And the worst is that he didn’t know he was doing it. Maybe my brain is in survival mode and I’m not being allowed to feel just how terrible it is. Or maybe, in the grand scheme of life and trauma, this case isn’t all that bad for me. I will not let one experience define my entire life.
I have a friend who once told me that she changes the language she uses about her problematic/traumatic sexual history based on how terribly she wants to or is able to feel on a given day. So, some days she calls them rape and some days assault and some days “the bad things.” All true. All valid. Because it’s her story, and that is her power.
So this is my story. I was raped by a dude I trusted. Sure, the physical violation was unpleasant, but that’s not where my pain lies. My pain is in the end of a trusted relationship. My pain is in the questioning of his character and how I missed warning signs. Or, did I miss warning signs? Were there signs? I think not, but maybe that’s because I’m a trusting person.
This makes it even clearer to me that my mission as a sex and relationship educator is to make sure that people show up to sexy situations to create pleasure for the other people present. If we all do this, everyone is safe and comfortable. So let’s talk about how to actually ask for what we want or what we want to try, and how to be okay when someone says they’re not into that same thing. I used to think that I was selfish because of what I want. But when I communicate clearly, beginning when clothes are still on, the sex is better. And for goodness sake, folks, ALWAYS CHECK.