And yes, that makes me feel really stupid.
[I know we have SO much to talk about when it comes to this subject. But I’m starting to realize nothing is going to make any sense if we don’t just face this story head on. So, it’s coming at you tomorrow.]
This is such an exceptionally hard thing for me to talk about.
I *wish* it were wildly cut and dry.
But it’s not. I knew the person. I’d slept with him before. (Heck, I slept with him again after the first time he did it!)
I hate admitting that this story of sexual assault came after he’d sexually assaulted me once before, and I brushed it off (because in some ways it was similar-ish to this story from college)… I had those same wonders of whether I was “allowed to be mad.”
After all, I did want to have sex with him that night… Just I really did not want to have sex with him in the exceptionally uncomfortable place we were (which I voiced over and over).
But I don’t want to get too distracted by the details of that story right now, as I’m sure it will become it’s own post soon enough…
And I know I was probably being dumb to just totally write off the first time like it was nothing. I know that “when people show you who they are, believe them.” I know about the whole “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” I know. I know.
But I also know that people make mistakes. And I try to be empathetic. And I try to understand. And I try to be forgiving and blah blah blah blah blah blah.
So, if you want to think I’m an idiot for putting myself in that situation even the first time (and especially the second time), I mean… I can’t really argue with you. It is embarrassing indeed… But I imagine there is another world in which he did just make a mistake, and he does feel bad, and we do work past it.
That’s not this world. But it feels like one that was possible. (Although maybe there should be a zero tolerance policy for this stuff… I don’t know…)
But that first time it happened was already kind of the beginning of the end – the very beginning of our time together (within the first week of us sleeping together) was already the beginning of the end of it…
I feel I could’ve conceivably gotten past that night. Like, I really think had the circumstances not changed in the way they did for the (way, way) worse, that I could’ve forgiven and moved forward (maybe)…
And I tried. I tried to minimize, ignore, barrel forward into other experiences with him, so as to try to pile new better memories on top of that one… (Which, admittedly, was hard since I had an underlying anger about my boundaries being completely ignored… But we’ll get to those details soon enough.)
The point is, had being sexually assaulted been a one-time occurrence with this guy, I believe I could have gotten past it. (I’m NOT saying it’s ever okay, even one time… I’m not saying anyone has a responsibility to get past it ever… But I think I personally could have (maybe!), and wanted to, in that situation… And I tried…)
And then it happened again. And that time seemed to hit me even harder. And we’ll talk about tomorrow.