Anonymous Story: And It’s My Own Damn Fault

Anonymous Story: And It’s My Own Damn Fault

It was my first new year’s eve being 21. I was pumped. Since turning 21, going out to bars was THE thing to do with my friends. We bought tickets to a really cool, huge open bar with good music. We started the night with some food, and I had 2 drinks. It was fun, but things started getting really blurry after the second drink. While I might be a lighter weight drinker than the average person, two drinks doesn’t usually make me like that. I know I had a couple more drinks throughout the night, but I don’t clearly remember them, I just remember people handing them to me. It was really crowded.

We made it to the dance floor. I’m told that I started talking about my ex-boyfriend and that I needed a new guy to hook up with to get over it. I don’t remember this, but I believe that it happened. I don’t do hook ups. It’s never been my style. I’m one of those “you have to date me for at least three months before you can have sex with me” kind of girls. I might have been up for a hook up, but I didn’t really want to have sex with someone. Maybe it was just the attention I wanted? Or maybe I thought I wanted a hook up, but just didn’t fully grasp the idea of sex with someone I didn’t really know? I’m honestly not sure. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe it does.

I don’t remember meeting him. I don’t remember his name. I remember where he went to school for some reason though. But I definitely have snippets of memory dancing with him. By dancing, I mean that he was pretty much holding me up (at least at the point that I can remember). I remember literally falling straight back to the ground multiple times. Red flag much? I don’t know why I didn’t try to find somewhere to go sit down, or my friends or SOMETHING. But for whatever reason he just kept picking me back and “dancing with me.” I remember feeling his boner against me. I knew that wasn’t good. But I did nothing about it. He starting putting his hands all over me on the dance floor. I’m never ok with guys I don’t know doing that to me, no matter how drunk I am. But for some reason I was into it or just did nothing about it. Regardless, it continued and I did absolutely nothing to stop it. His hands were up my dress and all over my body. I could still feel his boner against me. I don’t remember if we conversed at all. I don’t know. I don’t remember. But I do remember walking away at one point looking for my friend and I eventually found her and realized that my dress was pulled about up to my waist and my butt was hanging out. I remember being confused when I realized that happened, but again red flags were simply not fucking registering. It’s like I was disconnected from my body, or intuition was asleep or something. It was strange. Next thing I remember, I was dancing with him again. Same deal. I remember dancing with my friends at one point. I remember falling A LOT. Nobody seemed concerned by this… I was OUT of it.

I’m told that I asked for him to come back to the house. I don’t remember this. Maybe I did though. Maybe I wanted it, maybe I insisted. Maybe he manipulated me, maybe he asked, and I was so out of it that I just said ok. Quite honestly, I have no idea. I’m still not sure if this matters. I remember getting to the coat check with just my friends. Next thing I remember was sitting in a cab. I know my eyes were closed a lot of the time. I was fading. know that he and his friend were there, but I don’t remember who was sitting where. I don’t remember getting in or getting out. I don’t know when we met back up with them to get in the cab. Who the hell knows. We got in the house and my friend said we could go in the basement bedroom.

I don’t remember going down but I know we did. I didn’t say no. Nobody forced me to go down there. I completely let that happen in my drunken (or whatever) haze. There was a knife on the floor. I remember seeing that and my instincts are kicking in, but I’m still far too out of it and faded to do anything. Hell, I might have even pointed and laughed, or maybe I said nothing at all. I really don’t remember. I don’t feel like I can match up how I was feeling with what I was thinking and how I actually behaved. It’s like everything was disconnected and I was not with it. I remember him taking everything off of me. I didn’t do anything about it. At think at one point I thought that I should help him take things off, but I couldn’t get myself to move so I pretty much just sat there while he did it. This is where my hindsight instincts go totally crazy. WHY WOULD YOU SO EASILY LET THAT HAPPEN?! Are you crazy?! It’s like it didn’t register to me that taking clothes off meant that sex was happening. When he started initiating sex, it’s like it clicked for me finally. All I could manage to get out was to tell him that he absolutely had to wear a condom. He argued with me a bit. But I said he had to or it wasn’t happening. I started to feel unsafe at this point, but I was still out of it. In my haziness, the best I could come up with was to tell him that I wanted to go on top, that way I can have control of the situation and he’ll think everything is fine and then it will be over. He started to penetrate me and the second it happened my brain finally turned on with a NO, like it just realized that I have the power to say no and it doesn’t have to happen at all. So I immediately got off of him and said I didn’t want to have sex. I’m pretty sure I even apologized. I said it multiple times because he incessantly argued with me. Something about that I HAD to let him. I had to let him finish. I couldn’t be a tease. I kept saying no! I can’t. I don’t want to. No. Sorry. No. The more he argued the more afraid I felt, and the more rapidly I started fading. Then I told him that I really needed to sleep. I was about to pass out I physically can’t. No. In my mind I reasoned that it all would be over then. When I passed out he’d realize it wasn’t happening and he’d leave.

I remember being partially conscious. Like when you are half asleep and you can hear things and feel things but you aren’t conscious enough to open your eyes or move or speak. But I knew what was happening. There was nothing I could do about it. He was violently pushing me, pulling me, moving me, all over the bed. He was doing things to my body. With my body. I was being thrown around. Finally, I was able to open my eyes and there he was. He was holding me up by my ankles. My body was twisted limply. He was being so rough. It was painful. It was rigorous. It felt like forever and I did NOTHING. I just watched his condomless penis penetrate me over and over again. My body felt incapable of moving. I was frozen. I didn’t even know what was happening. I don’t know how long it went on for, or how I got him to stop, but I’m pretty certain that he didn’t finish. All I could think to say was “did you even wear a condom?” He laughed. He looked me in the eye with a sickening smile and said no. All I could think to do was to be mad that he didn’t use a condom. I didn’t even know him and this isn’t even what I do, or what I wanted. I told him that he needed to leave and he got mad so I insisted that instead we just go upstairs with everyone else. I guess he agreed because we got back up there. I had blood running down my leg from an enormous gash in my knee. My friend pointed it out, I said I didn’t know. At that point I didn’t want to know. I know it wasn’t there before I passed out. That’s all I need to know. I tried to get him to leave. He refused. The more I tried the more he kept arguing with me. He started calling me a slut, a bitch, a tease, a waste of his night. I was pretty messed up for not letting him finish. I was kind of freaked out so I just looked to my friend. The guy she was with convinced him to leave, even though he was still angry. I just wanted them gone.

I told my friends that it was just a bad/regretful hook up, and we left it at that.

Author

WYR

WYR

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