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Jun 30

Anonymous Story: Unsure What to Call This

So I’m honestly not sure what to classify this as, even six full years after it happened. Over spring break my Junior year of high school, me and two of my best friends went to a “house party” hosted by a guy we’d only met twice. One of my friends had dated the host’s best friend, and we mostly went so she could talk to her ex. When we got there, it turned out to just be 8 or so guys drinking vodka. I had been drunk a few times before in my life, but didn’t at all know my limits with alcohol yet. While my one friend went to talk to her ex, me and my other friend proceeded to get ridiculously drunk. Again, we didn’t really know our limits and the guys were kind of encouraging it. I only remember flashes of the rest of the night. At one point, my friend went upstairs with a guy we had both thought was cute. I think I was feeling a little rejected (and very drunk) and decided to make out with the party’s host. He brought me upstairs to his living room, and said he had to take some shots because he was totally sober.

I honestly don’t remember what my reaction was at this point. It’s possible I was encouraging him, but I was mostly blacked out. He took two shots, and I think I took one (at this point I apparently told my friend who was talking to her ex that I was 12 shots deep, but I don’t remember saying that, nor do I remember how much I’d actually drank). The party host then lead me upstairs to his parents bedroom.

I don’t remember getting in bed with him. The next thing I remember is him putting his hand down my pants and saying “are you wearing a thong?” I’m pretty sure at this point I began to fade in and out of consciousness. I remember opening my eyes while he was fingering me and slurring something about “not doing this”, but I was too out of it to even get out of the bed. I remember he put on a condom. I remember laying still with my eyes closed, trying to sleep, and feeling him push into me. I think I was too drunk to really understand what was going on.

Luckily, his friends walked in after a few minutes, and the light they shone on us kind of shocked me into action. I pulled my pants up, rolled off the bed, and shut myself in a bathroom where I spent the next four hours blacked out & puking. I woke up the next morning on a couch with no memory of how I got there, with a trashcan full of puke next to me. I honestly didn’t really remember a lot of what had happened. I didn’t even consider that the whole thing might not have been consensual until a week later when my friend told me that apparently the party host had said “fuck I didn’t know she was that drunk.”

He was 18 and mostly sober at the time. I was 16 and drunker than I’d even been before (or since). I was also a virgin at the time. I honestly don’t count that as my first time because I don’t know how to talk about it. I feel like I make a million excuses for him. Like, “oh he was so nice when I met him, he wouldn’t have done that maliciously.” Or, “maybe he really didn’t know I was that drunk!”. Or, “I was probably giving him signals that I was into it.”

But I don’t know. The more I think about it, the more I can’t imagine it wasn’t crystal clear to someone who was practically sober and two years older than me that I was clearly drunk out of my mind. I’m not the kind of drunk who holds it together. I’m generally pretty obvious about it.

But still, I feel like it was my fault. I shouldn’t have got that drunk. I shouldn’t have kissed him. And at the same time, I feel like maybe I’m just making a big deal out of nothing. I mean, the actual sex barely lasted two minutes. I wasn’t even sore the next day. Is this rape? I honestly don’t know.

About the author

WYR

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

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