I’ve recently come to the conclusion that the reason why it’s affected me so much wasn’t the act itself, but the fact that my choice was taken away.
I know you’re probably thinking to yourself, “Well of course, I could have told you that from the beginning.” but no. You couldn’t have. Because you weren’t there. And you didn’t know the whole story.
It took another physical, not sexual, encounter for me to realize that indeed I wasn’t hurt by him sexually (well I was, but I wasn’t). I was hurt by the fact that things progressed too far too fast and I wasn’t in control of anything. It was all about him and his needs and not once did he realize that I was terrified. Not once did he ask if I was okay. Not once.
Yes, I made the choice to go back to his room, but he made the choice to not listen to me when I spoke.
I was afraid to admit that before the incident I enjoyed our foreplay because maybe that would mean that I wanted it, I didn’t. Let me be very clear, I did not. He was a great kisser and he was hot, and we had fun, but everything that happened after, I did not want. I’ve come to terms with being okay with the first incident, maybe, not really.
But, the sex. No. I did not want. I wasn’t ready and he knew that. He took advantage of me and he took the choice away from me.
He raped me of my choice.