Anonymous Story: Being an “Adult”

Okay. I am going to write this. I am going to write about the sexual assault I haven’t told anyone about. Why have I not told anyone? Shame? No. Guilt? Not really. Confused? Yes. When it happened I didn’t think it was assault, I had consented hours earlier. I had willingly followed a strange man into his hotel room in Austin, Texas. But lets not jump to when I was following him, let us start from when I met him.

I had just turned 18, what else do you do when you turn 18? You download tinder! Hearing about tinder for a few years makes a young girl curious, so I downloaded it. I made a profile. And I met him. I met other guys too, but he was the first one I met in person. I was going to Austin for a weekend, my first trip being a “real” adult or so I told myself I was an adult. Visiting my cousin at her school, checking out college life, and all that fun stuff. He told me he was coming to Austin too, for “business.” Newly adult me did not even bat an eyelash. Why you may ask, well because he was this big corporate lawyer (he really was I checked it out), an older man, 13 years my senior. Wow that makes him 31. What 31 year old man would want an 18 year old girl? Who knows, but I guess that explains a little bit of why it happened.
So the day came to meet him. We met. Where? When? Is that really important here? No. I’ll skip those details, except one. One major detail that should have been a major red flag. He answered a call while I was in his car. Yea yea I know, “Haven’t you watched any crime shows?” Never get in the car with a stranger!” Anyway, while he was on the call he got angry, not a little angry, more like a yelling and screaming anger, an anger that gave me a bad feeling I ignored. We drove to his hotel, he told me he just wanted to talk and sleep together, not sex sleep together, but genuinely sleep together. So I followed him upstairs. Into his hotel room, Whatabuger 4 piece chicken tenders in hand. We put on a movie while I ate, after I was done eating he started kissing me, I didn’t want to have sex and I told him. More than once I said no I didn’t want to, I was on my period and cramping, but in the end I gave in? Was this the assault? I really do not know. I said no, but in the end I said okay because sex is sex? So we did it, we had sex. Then we laid down and talked. The talking was honestly nice, he treated me like the adult I wanted to be treated like, not treating me like some little kid. But then things got bad. He started choking me and calling me a “his nymphomaniac.” I like sex as much as the next girl, and I like being choked, hair pulled, spanked, tied down. I like having kinky sex, but not when I feel uncomfortable. He pulled my hair and made me suck him off, I didn’t want to, I wanted to sleep. I really to go home, but silly adult me didn’t bring her phone. So he forced himself inside my mouth, telling me to “Use my hands,” and “Play with his balls.” He finally finished, but he insisted I get off afterwards. He grabbed my throat once again and made me touch myself. But wait no one can make you do anything? If you saw the look in his eye that I did you would have done it too. I faked an orgasm as quick as I could, he rolled over and went to bed. I stayed up most of the night, but shortly after I fell asleep I woke up to something being shoved inside my mouth. Wow, Ive never had such an awful wake up. He forced himself inside my mouth, me half awake and protesting, pushing his hips away trying to move back. Gagging consistently. What seemed like an hour later he finally finished. He got up and showered. I sat on the bed, trying to register what had just happened. He came out and I got in the shower, trying to get rid of the night I had just endured. I got dressed, we left the hotel, he drove me back, dropped me off, and drove away.

That day my cousin asked if it was any good, she was referring to the sex, assuming I had sex with him. I replied it was great, trying to convince myself I was, to not seem dumb for going with him. She had told me not to go, I couldn’t let her be right, right? Now here I am, 6 months later, admitting that I was sexually assaulted that night. It feels good to admit it to myself, there was a time in these 6 months where I really lost myself dragging this baggage along with me. I feel better now, a little lighter.