Anonymous Story: I have trouble labeling it.

It has taken me 2 years to get to the point where I can talk about this. And even now, I’m still not sure what happened, and I have trouble labeling it. One night, I went out with my friend, two of our mutual friends, and her boyfriend. I was at the point in my life when I was thinking about the idea of experimenting with sexual activity that included another couple. I was seeing someone at the time, but not exclusively, and it was something that he brought up. I was just thinking about it, trying to see if I could mentally handle it. But it didn’t take me long to realize that that was something I was not nor ever would be interested in.

My guy didn’t come out with us that night. But oh how I wish he would have. It started off fine…just having some drinks at my friend’s apartment. We went to a bar where we continued drinking. They had a shot/beer special where you get both for $5. After a few of those, we went to this sketchy strip club (my first strip club experience ever). I don’t even really remember it. We were all just having fun and being flirty/goofy.

The rest of that night felt like a complete out of body experience. We went back to her apartment where we kept drinking and played Cards Against Humanity. At some point, her boyfriend started messaging me on snapchat. I can’t remember most of the conversation, but he wanted me to stay the night. I said I wouldn’t leave, since my apartment was over a mile away and I was too drunk to walk.

Looking back, I wish I had called an uber or given my phone to someone so they could have done it for me. My friend passed out on her bed and the other two girls left shortly after. As soon as they were gone, he was on top of me. I don’t know how quickly all of this happened. From here, I have bits and pieces, but I don’t remember a lot. He grabbed my hand and dragged me to the laundry room, which was in the basement of the apartment complex.

Here’s what I remember: He completely undressed me and pushed me up against the washer/dryer and then onto the floor. It literally felt like I was having an out of body/mind experience. The only things I can remember saying were “Do you think (his girlfriend’s name) would be okay with this?” He said “probably not” and kept going. I remember watching him spit onto his hands because I was too dry. At some point, I said “If this is going to happen, then she needs to be here” and pushed him off. I put my clothes back on and stumbled back upstairs. I said this wanting to escape, and knowing that I would never want to do anything with both of them. I did NOT want this to happen at all.

When I went out that night, I just wanted to have fun and drink with friends. Not this. I laid down on the couch, just wanting to go to sleep. I have no idea how long I laid there before he started to pull down my pants again. I was laying on my back, and I remember feeling dizzy, wanting everything to stop. But I couldn’t say anything. WHY DIDN’T I SAY ANYTHING?

I vaguely remember him finishing and going to the bathroom to get it off of me.I came out and he kissed me, and told me I was trouble. That was it. The next day, I woke up incredibly hungover. The kind of hungover where you can’t move. When I finally did leave that apartment, my body was aching all over. But I couldn’t think about the night before. I had chalked it up to being my fault and that I was a terrible person and friend. A few days later, I messaged him asking if he had pulled out, because I was terrified I might be pregnant from that night. He said he did, asked me if I was okay, and then tried to keep talking to me. I told him that he needed to tell his girlfriend that something happened. He said he wasn’t going to, and that she would’ve been fine with it. So false.

He continued messaging me over the next few months, trying to get me to come out with them. I said no and then stopped responding. This happened in January. It wasn’t until May that I started having flashbacks, that I started remembering bits and pieces of that night. It was then that I remembered I told him to stop, and he didn’t listen. I wish I had said it differently, but I still said no in what I did say.

I started opening up to friends. I remembered how much pain I was in during those first few weeks. I had bruises on my inner thighs. I was raw on the inside from lack of lubricant. It all felt horrible, and I was puzzled as to why this was all coming up 5 months later. It was then that I begin to think about it as assault, but I still struggle with labeling it.

I eventually told my partner, and he was the one who encouraged me to talk to my friend about it. Her response made me feel even worse. She asked me if I thought of what good telling her does for anyone. She didn’t believe me. She confronted her boyfriend and he denied that anything happened, and said we all just feel asleep. Part of me wasn’t surprised, but I felt incredibly hurt by that. A month after telling her what I remembered, SHE proposed to him! I did my part in telling her, but it’s still hard for me to grapple with.

I just want peace about the whole thing, and to not feel like this is all my fault. I didn’t want it to happen. I didn’t consent, but I didn’t say “no” in the traditional sense…has anyone else experienced this?