Date Rape

  In the spirit of admitting the reasons why I have cut myself off from everyone, from myself, and am hesitant to let anyone in.

  When I was 13, going on 14 I met a young man. I was a little girl, he was growing into the man he would become. A HS Senior, star of the wrestling team, worked for his father as a mechanic, went to church, posed himself as a devout christian (don't they all?)... Little did I know, or even dream of what was in store for me.
  We met at church, and he was immediately drawn to me, maybe he saw vulnerability, maybe he actually liked me... who knows anymore. I wasn't particularly interested, but he was persistent, and once I got to know him a bit, I found that we got along pretty well. So, we began dating.
  A few months later, he had become fairly comfortable with me and we went out regularly, usually alone, to some place quiet. I actually trusted him based on the fact that he was generally respectful, never tried to cross any of my personal boundaries. I wish I had known then, what I know now. He was carefully testing my boundaries, and posturing himself in the least threatening way, so as to gain my trust. Looking back, there were red flags, but I was helpless to even recognize them.

  It was a Wednesday, spring break 1999, beautiful day. I had gone out running, when I came home I had a message so I called him back and he was on his way over. I didn't even bother changing out of my sweaty sports bra and running shoes. He said we'd go do something fun (we spent a lot of time out doors).
  When I got in the truck with him he flashed me his famous smile, and we were off on an adventure. Ah, but before the day was out it would end in tragedy, for me... We headed out of the city limits, and I asked where we were going, he said it was a surprise. But I wasn't too surprised when we pulled up to his house in Mint Hill. I had been there many times before.
  We went inside, and the house was still, I expected his mother to be home, or a few of his friends over (they all liked me, and we got along well). No one was there. I still felt safe, I shouldn't have, but I was naive.  He flipped on the tv, and playfully tossed me on the sofa, I was like a rag doll compared to him. He outweighed me by over 100lbs, and was over a foot taller.
  After a few minutes of talking and joking he scooped me up and started carrying me into the other room, and threw me on his mothers water bed. When I told him not to be so rough with me, he laughed and told me that I had not idea what I was in for, that I deserved it for teasing him, that he knew I wanted it... Finally, I was afraid. And rightfully so.
  Before I could react he had already ripped my pants off, I remember telling him to stop, telling him no, begging him not to hurt me. It was useless, I couldn't have forced him off of me if my life had depended on it. Next thing I knew I was laying naked on the bed as he pinned me down, fumbling with a condom... he said "Don't need any little brats running around, now do we?". My this point I was helpless to react, I was in shock that this was even happening. And, oh how it hurt, unlubricated latex, let me tell you-I would have been less traumatized if he hadn't used a condom.
  I still hear him breathing in my ear how good I was, how tight I was, that this was what I needed- what I deserved for teasing him, how lucky I was to have him.
  I tried so hard not to cry, I was silent. What could I have done? No one could have heard me scream, no one was there to help. I knew I didn't want to piss him off, I'd seen him angry before. Not at me, no, but angry. He was not someone to be trifled with.

  The worst was when he finished (which fortunately didn't take long) he said "Get dressed, I've got to get a shower and clean up for church. Then I'll take you home so you can get a shower so we won't be late."
  Sure enough, that was what happened. I laid there on that bed for a while, trying to regain my composure. Then I got dressed, tried my damnedest to make myself presentable, and we got in his old beat up red ford pickup and headed home... When I got home he sat down and turned on the TV while I showered, and then we left for church.
  That night at youth group we sat next to one another like we had been for weeks, I think now, so he could keep an eye on me. I was humiliated, and withdrawn from everyone- not that I was particularly close anyway, religion was not my cup of tea. Wasn't then, isn't now.

  We went on like that for a couple more months. There were many more encounters after that one, and I simply did not feel that I could say no. I knew if I did he would take what he wanted anyway, and had the power to do so.
  I finally confronted him, and told him that I had been a virgin, and he laughed... He said that no one would believe me over him, that I had willingly had sex with him after the fact, so there wasn't anything I could do. I didn't believe him, I knew better, but I wasn't ready or willing to make my mistake known... I wasn't willing to be blamed for what he had done to me, which is probably the hardest part of being raped. More often then not, the victim gets blamed, not the attacker. It's truly sick.
  He got pissed, and that was the last of him I saw for years. He graduated HS, moved on... Now, he is a youth minister, married, and has a son. I find myself tempted to tell his wife what he is truly like, but chances are that she already knows. What good would it do?

  I've accepted that what happened to me can not be changed, that bad shit happens to good people every day, usually because they are good people- that makes us vulnerable.
  The most important part of this experience is that I learned how to trust my intuition, something I ignored the entire time "A" and I dated... Somewhere within myself I knew what was coming, but was too naive to believe that it could or would happen to me... I've learned to trust myself.
  Now, I admit that it was a traumatic experience, Dog only knows- but I've chosen not to dwell on it. What good does it do to play the victim? What good does it do to live in fear? None. None at all.
  Every day I make the decision not to be affected negatively, to take my lesson for what is was, one of the most important life lessons I have had to apply... I don't tell people what happened to me that long 11years ago- I don't want their pity. That is a slap in the face.
  I want them to understand that no matter what happens, there is a lesson to be learned, and applied. Unless you take it in stride, it'll eat you alive.

  There is more to be said, but for another day... For another day.