just another nerd

Almost exactly five years ago, on May 2nd, 2006, I was raped.

I had to look up the exact date, which probably speaks well for my mental health, and I don’t think of him, or the experience, often. Yet I find myself thinking about it more as this anniversary approaches, and I felt compelled to speak out.

I don’t believe we should compare and create categories of “better” and “worse” rapes, but I will be the first to point out that I was very lucky in many ways: I had no serious physical injuries; he used a condom; I suffered no lasting sexual dysfunction; although I knew him, we did not have the sort of relationship where I had to deal with him – and thus be concerned for my physical and emotional safety – on an ongoing basis; I had many, many, many sources of support and caring.

Yet the fact remains: I was raped.  Or, more appropriately: a man raped me.  A man intentionally turned my instincts against me, confused and manipulated me, and told me what I wanted in a way that allowed no room for disagreement.  For an instant, I believed him, and in that instant, I said ‘yes’ –not even ‘yes,’ but only ‘I guess so,’ or ‘why not?’ – after saying a hundred times or more, ‘no’.