Before you read any further, I encourage you to read the prologue first (if you haven’t already). My Story :: The Prologue
Once upon a time, in the late 80s, I was 18yrs old, living in Athens, GA, and attending the University of Georgia.
One weekend night, I was sitting on the floor in the hall of my dorm, with a few hall-mates. A friend’s boyfriend was visiting for the weekend, and we were hanging out and getting updates on my friend’s hometown. It was a quiet night at the dorm.
One of my hall-mates left her dorm-room door open, with her phone in the doorway. She was hoping and waiting to hear from a guy she liked.
Sure enough, the phone rang, and she jumped up to answer it. We laughed at her excitement, as she closed the door to her room.
A few minutes later, the hall-mate came out of her room. Her crush called, and he wanted to see her. He was hoping she would come to his place for a visit. Though it was late, she wanted to go see him, and she came out to see if anyone would go with her.
“He has a friend.” She said. “He’s cute.”
I was the only one without a boyfriend, so I was really the only one who fit the target, so to speak. Plus, I admit, the part about ‘he’s cute’ tweaked my interest. It also gave me butterflies, because I was excruciatingly shy when it came to boys. If I found out a boy was interested in me, I tended to spend the rest of the day in the bathroom with a case of anxious belly. Coincidentally enough, the interest in me tended to be short lived.
“Come on, please?!” She begged.
“Okay, I’ll go.” I said.
We lived in the Brumby dorm, and the apartment where her friend lived was The Lyons, less than a mile from the dorm. The apartment complex was practically on campus, and we were there in seconds.
She knocked on the door, and her crush invited us inside. Honestly, I do not remember an introduction, but surely there was an introduction, right?
The four of us sat and watched television for no more than five minutes before my friend and her crush went to his room and closed the door.
There I was – alone with someone I had never met prior to walking in the door.
I was not drinking, but he was drinking. I do not remember what lead up to what was about to happen, but I suspect we started kissing.
The next thing I knew, I was pinned on the couch, while he moved on top of me, seemingly crawling up my body. Suddenly, his crotch was in my face.
I remember thinking, “Oh my gosh! That is his penis!” I turned my head left, and I turned my head right, while trying to break free from his hold.
I was clueless as to what was about to happen, but I knew it was not going to be good.
I had never had sex, let alone seen a penis. What on earth was he doing?
Then, he forced his penis into my mouth, and I was unable to escape. I choked, while he moaned.
When he finished, he sat up, zipped and buttoned his pants, and took a sip of his beer.
I was in shock, and I felt sick. What the hell just happened?
I don’t remember him telling me he’d take me home, but he did. He drove me to the entrance of my dorm, and said, “We’ll be seein’ ya.”
I got out of his truck, and he drove away.
When I got back to my hall, I knocked on my friend’s door – the one who had her boyfriend in town. I sat on the floor in the hall crying, while my friend and her boyfriend did their best to console me. I did not report the incident, though my friend and her boyfriend wanted me to report it.
To this day, I can hear his “We’ll be seein’ ya” in my head. I hate it.
About two years later, in a cruel twist of fate, I saw the guy again at a wedding – my sister’s wedding. Turns out, he was friends with my new brother-in-law’s brother. When I saw his face at the reception and realized who he was – I went back to that night, and I felt sick.
He recognized me, too, and I saw him laugh.
During my Sophomore year in college, I experienced my first date. Yep, at the ripe old age of 19, I was asked out for the first time. He was a genuinely nice guy, too. As is the case with all genuinely nice guys, there is no juicy story to tell. So, let’s move on to my Junior year.
Math is not my best subject. So, when I had a major exam in one of my math classes, I took a friend up on his offer to tutor me the night before the test. He was dating a friend of mine, and she was getting some help with her homework, too.
The two lived in the same apartment complex – she lived in the apartment downstairs, and he lived in the apartment upstairs.
I made plans to spend the night with my girlfriend at her place, though we knew we’d spend the majority of the night upstairs at her boyfriend’s place.
Her boyfriend had a friend over that night, whom I had never met. He seemed harmless, as we were all literally there to study and prep for the exams. As the hours passed, the goofing-off increased. Nothing major, we just became increasingly silly. I vaguely remember the guys drinking, but neither one was drinking in excess.
The time came to call it a night. My friend and her boyfriend decided to stay at his place, and the other guy decided to stay put, too. I agreed to sleep on the pull-out sofa with the guy. In my opinion, it was no big deal, and folks could sleep together in the literal sense of sleep.
I was nearly 21yrs old and still a virgin. I was confident I was in control.
My friend and her boyfriend went upstairs. The guy and I pulled out the sofa, put on clean sheets and readied ourselves for bed. I turned on the television and began flipping channels.
The guy moved closer to me, and I knew he was looking to get something from me. I pushed him away, and I told him “No”. He tried again, and again I pushed him away, telling him “No”. With each attempt he tried harder, and with each attempt I did my best to push him away. He didn’t stop trying, and eventually I felt defeated and stopped fighting. I lay there watching “The Boy in the Plastic Bubble”, while he had sex with me.
When he was done, he rolled over and went to sleep. I got up, walked to the bathroom, and cried.
I cried for several reasons that night. I cried because the pressure to be a virgin was gone. I cried because I was no longer a virgin, and I could not get it back. I cried because I said ‘no’ several times, but it wasn’t good enough. I cried because I said “NO!” – I said “NO!” “NO! Dammit!” I cried because he took a part of me that was not his to take. I cried because I hurt – mentally, emotionally, and physically.
Early the next morning, before anyone woke, I went home. Eventually, I told my girlfriend and her boyfriend what happened, but I never reported the incident.
Just like my experience two years earlier, I was a victim, again. I was a victim of myself and my choices, my poor judgment, his poor judgment, his testosterone and need for sex, and his disrespect. I was a victim of rape.
Tomorrow I’ll conclude my story with some final thoughts. I hope you’ll come back.