The First Sexual Assault (By That Man This Year) – Part 1 (The Incident)

October 28, 2016

[Trigger warning: This post contains details of sexual assault.]

I think before I finish out the story of the aftermath, I need to fill in the story of the first assault.

I’ve mentioned it multiple times. And I think it’s necessary to talk about. (And I’m sorry about the weird wonky order. I obviously have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to this.)

I did not want to have sex in my apartment… Not at all. I was not comfortable with that. I voiced it a bunch of times, and was totally dismissed. Funnily enough, if he just wanted to have sex with me, I would’ve been more than happy to have sex with him! I would’ve happily gotten us an uber outta my place (or taken the subway , or whatever he wanted)…

It was a big deal for me to have someone in my new princess bed in my new New York apartment. And I wasn’t comfortable with that. And that was not a secret.

Even though I kept saying I wasn’t comfortable with the idea, he kept pushing. And pushing. And pushing. (And pushing.)

He had an event that night in the area I lived. And he made it seem sooooo important to him that he stay overnight with me. So, since I’d already stated how weird it was for me (multiple times), and he just kept pushing over and over; I thought I would be kind, and instead of making him go out of midtown after his event in my ‘hood, sure, I’d let him come over.

I worked extra hard to unbox my new dresser, and get my room looking more normal and moved-in. (I really didn’t have the time for that, but it seemed soooo important to him since he wouldn’t drop it, that I just somehow made the time… I wanted to avoid all the judgemental teasing remarks I’d get from him if I still had furniture that needed to be put together and such… So, I just begrudgingly made the time I did not have.)

I remember it all too vividly. The night was a mess. I basically sprinted home from work (knowing I was leaving behind work I wanted to get done, but was running out of time… so I’d just go in early the next morning).

There was sooo much styrofoam in the box my dresser was in that it spilled basically everywhere. And I was zipping around my apartment doing my best to get all the little pieces off the floor. It was so stressful… Not unpacking and putting together a dresser. That stuff is fun. It was stressful trying to get ready for him, and trying to set myself up to avoid ridiculing comments.

And even still (with the extra work I put in to make the place more presentable for him), he kept making so many comments about what I should be doing with the place… He started moving my appliances (without asking or checking in at all), just telling me how things should be. (It’s a very small point, and on it’s own might not be much at all. But he was exceptionally controlling and you could see it from the big things down to the tiny details like that.)

As we got into my bed, I was physically uncontrollably shaking because I was so uncomfortable. I know he was not oblivious because he commented on that shaking, which was so uncontrollable and distracting that he asked if I was okay, and I said no. I told him I was so uncomfortable. Then I begged him, “Would it really be that big of a deal if we didn’t stay here tonight?”

He immediately got really in my face about it, and in a very upset/admonishing tone said, ‘Aurora! It’s really not a big deal for me to stay here! This is how it works when I have sex with women. Half the time we’re at my place. Half the time at hers. This is just how it’s done.’

Oh, uh… Hmmm… Well, I guess that’s how it’s done… I guess I’m being super unreasonable for having expectations of my own space…

Just for the record, this was literally the 4th night we’d ever slept together – and the other 3 nights had occurred almost back to back (to back) leading up to this. So, he’d been sleeping with me for less than a week. I’m not wildly unreasonable. (Or at least I don’t think I am… Or, at least I don’t think I am about this.)
(…Also, for the record, even if more than a week had passed, it doesn’t matter. I should’ve been allowed to have whatever timetable I wanted for when I was ready (if I was every ready) to share my home. I’m just saying… As far as he was concerned, I couldn’t even have one week to warm up to the idea.)

Also, for the record, if it had started to become a burden that I was going to his place so much – if he needed me to chip in on toilet paper, or extra sheets, or whatever, I would’ve been happy to. But there were no reasons I could see for why we had to use my place. I get that he had an event close by, but he doesn’t live out in the middle of Connecticut or something! It’s a short ride to his NY borough (which) he does every day from work. So, it should’n’t have been a big deal that night either.

He didn’t have roommates. He had a spacious apartment. He always seemed more than happy to host people – it was something he loved to do. Why we couldn’t take twenty minutes, or half an hour, or whatever it was to go to another borough I will never understand. Anyway…

So we’re in my bed. He shuts me down when I voice my concerns. I get a little quiet. And soon after, he started making moves – even though I have voiced (out loud) how uncomfortable and unsure I am, and even though even he has commented on the fact that my body language makes it seem like I’m uncomfortable (which I hardcore confirm…). And even though I am still physically trembling with fear.

Both verbally and non-verbally I have expressed I am not comfortable with this. Even still, he starts to climb on top of me – on top of my shaking tremoring body.

My whole body tensed up and away from him (as much as it could with him on top of me). And the last two things I exclaimed (in escalating volume) before he entered me were, “I don’t know… I don’t know!”

These are important words that should be minded.)

He looked me dead in the eyes, and he said, “It’s time,” as he put himself inside of me.

It [clap emoji] is [clap emoji] not [clap emoji] men’s [clap emoji] jobs [clap emoji] to [clap emoji] “save” [clap emoji] us.

Do we need that one more time for the people in the back?

It [clap emoji] is [clap emoji] not [clap emoji] men’s [clap emoji] jobs [clap emoji] to [clap emoji] “save” [clap emoji] us.

The way he was able to look at me right in the eye as he entered me – even while I was tensing, up and shaking (and not in a good way, which both was evident and I verbally confirmed), blew my mind. He stared in my eyes almost as though he thought we were in some rom com… He looked at me with certainty and almost pride – as though it was his job to ignore all of my uncomfortableness and plow forward to “fix” my “problems” about my “weird” boundary of letting my new princess bed be just mine for a little while, of not wanting to have sex in my new place yet… It seemed like to him this was some incredibly romantic gesture, and not sexual assault.

I don’t have a ton of sex hang-ups – in fact, I have exceptionally few. As I said, I would’ve been more than happy to have sex with him (in practically any way he wanted) at his place, or who knows where else – but not at my place.

I am allowed to have a boundary, and that’s not a game or a challenge.

It’s something I don’t feel comfortable doing.

Some people will say I just have regret now… And I do regret a lot of things. But I can’t regret the choice of him entering me, because I was not a part of that. I didn’t make that choice. He did.

He said “it’s time.” He climbed on my shaking body. He put himself inside of me after I let him know I was not comfortable in the least. And if a woman tells someone over and over any version of, “I’m not ready.” “Would you mind if we don’t,” and “I don’t know”… he is not getting her consent!

I wasn’t being subtle or nuanced. I didn’t want to have sex in my bed. And I voiced that. A lot.

He controlled the situation, ignoring my days worth of objections. I was furious, and almost didn’t understand why (because again, I said all the things I said to myself 8 years ago)…. “I mean, he’s someone I’m sleeping with… If we’d been in his apartment, I would’ve wanted to have sex all night. Sooooo if he’s someone I have an established sexual relationship with who has sex with me in a place/way I don’t want him to… Like, can I really be mad?” (Of course the answer is yes, I can be mad.  Consent is not a magical blanket that transcends all space and time in perpetuity… Just, at the time (and even still sometimes!), those were real wonders/concerns I had about my feelings/emotions… I felt very “silly” or “dumb” or “dramatic” for feeling that way… Sigh.

[Side note: I also do want to make a distinction between some sex nervousness and other sex nervousness [which is now available here…]

And if you want the rest of the story of the rest of this night, you can go here.

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