He Raped Me.
Wow, three little words that instantly bring tears to my eyes when I see them typed out; he raped me. And I now have the strength and courage to acknowledge this.
He was a boyfriend. The morning after I moved into my college dorm room for my freshman year of college, I met him. I met my first real boyfriend. He fell in love with me quick and hard – two weeks after meeting, he was already dropping “I love you” with ease. I however, had no idea what I was getting myself into. I had no idea what love was, I was a shy, innocent 18 year old girl who had the world at my fingertips. And of course, I was easily persuade. Within a few weeks, I was responding to his love with love.
We were together for 8 months before my first time having sex, just after my 19th birthday. I always thought I would save sex for marriage as I was raised catholic and thought it was a sacred act, a gift. He was my second kiss and my first love. The first time, I cried, we cried. It was painful but beautiful. I thought I knew what I was doing with him, that I would spend my life with this man. I had no idea that I was under his control the whole time, from day one. The second time happened a month or two later, it hurt, I still bled. Summer came around and we went to a concert together and saw one of my favorite bands perform. After the show, we went back to his house that he was renting with 4 other girls and went to his room and that’s when it happened.
We had sex and it felt amazing! Finally, right? But then, he wanted more. We started again and I couldn’t do it, I had to go to the bathroom. The girls were up watching TV as I passed them. It hurt, it hurt to pee. It brought tears to my eyes. I slowly walked upstairs, back to that tiny room that was the size of a closet. I laid down and told him that it hurt. I couldn’t do it anymore. He got up and put a condom on. I can still picture this moment in my head. The memory is so vivid. The walls were blue, there was enough room for a dresser and a twin bed. He didn’t even have a frame or box springs, so we were practically laying on the floor. Ugh, that image of him putting the condom on absolutely disgusts me. I saw it so much during our relationship and I completely understand why it freaks me out to even touch them today. After he got it on, he walked over and laid down on top of me. I had my hand covering my vagina and I kept saying, “no, I can’t, it hurts.” He pushed my hand aside and put himself inside me. I looked off into the distance with tears running down my face. It continued for a few minutes until he looked at me and saw my face full of tears. He stopped. I don’t remember the conversation that followed. All I remember was going to the bathroom again, to make sure I wouldn’t get a bladder infection. I walked pass his roommates again, in pain.
The next few days are blurry to me. I remember waking up at my parents house at 2am from a nightmare that he was raping me. I was being raped in my dreams. At this point, I hadn’t even defined it as rape, I was confused. He loved me, right? A dear friend of mine was up early that morning. I had told him of my dream and he thought it was weird. Why would I have a dream like that? I then, somehow, told him what had happened a few days prior. He told me what I didn’t want to hear; it was rape. And that’s when my life changed, I had been raped by a man that loved me. If only I would have trusted my gut instinct and ran far, far away on the day we met.
I will, with time, share more. But this is a start. This is the major heartache that I carry deep inside of me and that’s why I’m sharing it here. I need to get it out. I need to remember and I need to accept that this really did happen. I’ve been holding this story in for 10 years and am finally releasing it to the world in hopes that it will not only help me but maybe help another. We are all strong enough to face our fears, our past, our deepest darkest secrets. Bring them out into the world. Be the voice – our world is too silent about these subjects.