Anonymous Story: Date

Anonymous Story: Date

I agreed to go on a date with a man with whom I had a mutual friend in common. I was told he was nice and attending law school. Very self-conscious, young for my grade, reserved with a plethora of hobbies and interests— I didn’t date in high school. I had just moved to a big city by myself to pursue work, my studies, and interests. I was living on my own. It was exciting, and I had met lot of new people. I thought it might be a good idea to try dating.

I wore a glittery red scarf. It was a Christmas Eve date. I agreed. A Christmas Eve date seemed romantic. I didn’t want to spend that time alone. It was my first time working over the holidays — away from my family. We met for coffee.

After coffee, he asked, if I wanted to drive to the beach. I agreed. But, once I was in his car, he changed his mind, and told me he was going to drive me to where he lived. I pleaded, “Please, take me back to my car! It’s late. I thought we were going to the beach! Please take me back to where my car is parked!” “No,” he replied. Then, he laughed at me. Immediately, I was afraid. While at a stop light, I told myself, “Open, the door—jump out of the car! You have your phone, you’ll be okay, just call an Uber.” But, I didn’t jump. I feel stupid for not jumping. I feel stupid for getting inside his car. I know better.

He drove me to his house. I told him that I didn’t want to have sex. I told him I wasn’t ready. His reply was, “How old are you?” Then, he laughed at me again. He took off my clothes. I had never had a man look at my body before, aside, from doctors. I have always been shy about my appearance and was diagnosed with BDD as a child. I had overcome a lot of it by this time, but, today, I still get negative feelings. BDD thinking isn’t just something that goes away, completely. So, being stripped naked against my will flooded me with so much horror. I desperately clung to my blouse, hiding my torso from him. Paralyzed with fear and shame. I knew he was going to rape me.

He got on top of me. He tried to penetrate me a couple of times, it hurt intensely, and he was unable to penetrate. I realize, now, this is, because of a condition called “vaginismus,” which some women can experience during sexual intercourse. He became frustrated and asked me, “What’s wrong with you? Why can’t I “f*** you?” I was crying at this point. I replied, “I don’t know why. But, I have never had sex before!” He removed himself from me and told me my virginity was too big of a responsibility for him. He then, proceeded to masterbate and ejaculated on my stomach. He went into another room and came back with baby wipes. “I’ll clean you up like your mother,” he told me. As he did this, he ripped the blouse I had been clinging to the whole time out of my grasp and laughed at my body.

I got dressed. I called an Uber. When I got home, I took a shower, I cried, I told no one. I never wore that scarf again. I pushed the incident out of my mind. I stopped talking to the friend, who recommended the date. I went on with my life and pretended it never happened. For the most part, I don’t think about it. But, when I do, it feels awful. I blame myself to this day for willingly getting into his car and not exiting, when I had the opportunity.

Some time, after the incident, my mom, casually, said to me, after a news program about rape/sexual assault, “You know, one out of four women have been raped. That seems, so high. Have you ever been raped?” I wanted to say, “Yes, mom, I have been, raped.” But, I didn’t want to upset her, so I told her, “No, I’ve never been raped.”

Author

WYR

WYR

When You're Ready.org is a community for survivors of sexual violence to share their stories.

Related