Not Rape.

It wasn't rape, but it wasn't consensual either.  We had been dating for about a month.  I was 16, he was 18.  It was summer and we were at my house one day.  My mother was away.  It was a conversation we had already had a few times before. "I'm not having sex with you," I told him, "I'm not ready."  "I think you are," he said, rubbing my shoulders, his legs splayed around me.  "I'm not," I said- firmly, I thought.  He kissed me and pulled me back into him.  I took it as an "OK," we had an understanding, and I kissed him back, leaning easily into his arms.  As we kissed, he slid from behind me and lay me back gently on the bed.  I trusted him and yielded easily, despite a quick pang of vulnerability.   We lay, ******** down to our underwear, interlocked on the bed.  I felt his fingers gently sliding under the rim of my panties.  "Don't," I said, grabbing his wrist.  "I told you, no." "I know," he said, removing my hand and laying it on the pillow beside my head.  "It's OK.  Trust me."  I faltered, but let him slide them down my thighs and over my feet.  I suddenly felt very cold.  "I'm serious," I said.  He lowered his weight over me, gradually, then fully.  He started to kiss my neck and pressed his pelvis into me.  My heart rate increased and my body stiffened.  The vulnerability was no longer a mere pang. I pressed my legs together firmly and tried to push his shoulders back to look into his face, searching for his eyes.  He slid his hand between my clenched thighs and gently pried them apart.  I could feel my pulse in my entire body, beating against him.  I could barely move beneath the entirety of his weight, but I managed to press them back together.  Wordlessly, he reached under again, and this time, more definitively, pulled them open and pressed himself deeply between them, pinning them to the side.  "Stop," I said.  At least, I think I said it, the words felt caught in my throat. I could barely breathe or expand my lungs beneath his pressure. In my head, "Stop, stop, stop, stop, stopstopstopstop, please let him stop....I told him I didn't want to, so....he wouldn't....he wouldn't."  I'm not going to go into much detail for the rest.  I remember eventually just going limp, lifeless, removed.  Even after he penetrated, I was still convinced he would stop.  But he didn't.  I feel like people reading this will say I was stupid and got what I deserved.  What did I think was going to happen?  That's what I thought for a long time afterward.  In fact, I didn't even break up with him, because I blamed myself.  He did nothing wrong, I "let" him.  My hips and thighs were sore for days afterward, but he left no visible bruise.  Now that I'm older, and have experienced more, including true love, I know I should have behaved differently.  But I also recognize that I trusted him, and it wasn't my trust that was a mistake, it was who I bestowed it on.
whimsygirl whimsygirl
22-25, F
5 Responses Jul 6, 2007

hi there.listen im so sorry.i know that feeling of blame please read my stories. i have been raped too.

I dont believe this story. I think you made it up for attention. You want people to say "that was rape" you were the victim etc.

this was def rape! as soon as u told him no, it became rape. i was also raped but did not realize it till 2 days later.

It does mean something to me.<br />
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I don’t think I was a victim. At least, I was no more a victim of him than of my own psychology. He violated my trust more than he violated my body. Also, while I do believe he was in the wrong, I also know he had his own perspective. Though he certainly pressured me, perhaps even bullied me, both verbally and physically, he committed no crime, and, from his standpoint, I gave up my struggle. I yielded to him. I could have fought harder, but I surrendered. Ultimately, it was my trust, more so than his physical force, that rendered me prostrate beneath him.<br />
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I appreciate your comment. It feels strange releasing a story like this into silence. Any damage that may have been done has long since healed, but this type of writing can rub old wounds raw again. So, thank you.

There are two extremes in how people might react to this: they might--as you say--say that you were "asking for it," or, alternatively, say that he should've known better and that you were the victim.<br />
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Ultimately it's a useless exercise trying to identify who was which role, where to assign blame, etc. <br />
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The reality of the matter is that innocence lost is a tragedy; and the pain endured as it is loss is excruciating. To some great extent it never goes away. <br />
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Maybe this is the kind of story that should have no comments, as everyone reads it and looks the other way in the face of your pain--leaving you to suffer in silence alone--but I think maybe there's a place for saying that I hear you. I understand and feel your pain as much as anyone with a completely different and unique experience of life can. <br />
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Then again, reading back over this comment I've come to the conclusion that it sounds both trite and insensitive just doesn't adequately describe the agonizing feelings that flooded my heart as I read your account. But I hope it means something to you anyway.