This blog is about sexual assault and may be triggering to some, please only read on if you are healed/healing and in a place to read and receive this message. For those in need, the national sexual assault hotline is:
For men they just experience spooky season every October.
For women, it never ends.
We are constantly checking under our cars before we enter them, inspecting the shadows the walk among up, have speed dials ready, and position our keys as weapons in our hands.
Unfortunately, most of our 'attackers' our people we call loved ones.
I wish these were just ghost stories, or urban legends.
But these are real experiences over my last 33 years, that I can recall.
Unfortunately, like you, I'm sure there are more that my subconscious has tucked away in a vault somewhere in hopes to keep me mentally sane and safe.
Growing up I experienced multiple assault situations. However, I didn't know I was being abused until almost a decade later. The generation I grew up in didn't talk about these things, and our parents didn't shed light on scenarios we could find our selves in.
However in middle school everyone talked about sex, and the majority of the crowd I was surrounded by was at least having oral sex. I lost my virginity when I was going into my freshman year of high school.
But I was sexually abused long before that.
It didn't even happen just once.
The First Time:
I was in 8th grade the first time it happened...
It was a chilly fall Friday night as football season was wrapping up.
I was dating this wanna be quarter back for quite some time now. We had fooled around plenty times before. But this night was different. This night I was planning on breaking up with him. Over the year of us being together I ignored one red flag after another. His anger issues. His alcoholic parents and unsafe home environment. His ability to control and manipulate me. My intuition started speaking up, and something inside me decided to listen to her that night.
There was a carnival taking place just down the street from his house. All of my friends were there, even the the cute kicker from the football team which may have been half of what I am referring to as intuition here, but don't get too excited he makes a guest appearance in this blog later.
I wanted to be there. I didn't wanna be shacked up in a dark bedroom with black lights and lava lamps with a smelly narcissist in the making. But he didn't want to go. Which meant I wasn't allowed to go. He wanted to stay in. A.k.a. he wanted his dick sucked.
Any other night I would have conformed. Which looking back, that is still a form of abuse, mental abuse, manipulating me into doing things I didn't want to do all the time. Truly, think about all the times you par took in sexual activity just to keep the waters calm, just to avoid a fight. That's a form of sexual assault. Whenever someone doesn't respect your boundaries, qualifies. Even if you said yes the first time doesn't mean its a yes every time.
And that night, I wasn't consenting.
As the words rolled across my lips I saw the rage ignite in his dark demon eyes.
I felt the room engulf in flames of tension and I knew he wasn't going down without a fight. I started to stand up and walk out of his room... he grabbed me by the wrist and shut the door while quickly shoving a chair under the handle to prevent anyone from coming in..
I was screwed.
This is when it goes dark for me.
This is where it has taken me years to piece it all together.
Because for the longest time all I could recall was a pounding headache,
Gving an unwanted blow job, and making it to that carnival to see that cute kicker after all.
In fact, the Monday after that weekend my life radically changed.
I began dating said kicker, who turned into my first love, whom I actually ended up losing my virginity to and spending multiple years of high school with off and on.
So reality didn't seem so bad. I knew something bad happened to me, but the outcome was amazing (in those moments) so I convinced myself whatever happened I must have deserved, and it must have been worth it.
Well I didn't and it wasn't.
It's taken me almost 2 decades of nightmares, others sharing their stories, lifetime movies, and netflix binging to trigger me about a million times before realizing the truth in its entirety.
That night, as an 8th grader, I was forced into giving a blow job for a boy with anger issues. The headache I recalled was from him sitting on his weight bench he had in his room and holding a bar bell down across my neck so that I couldn't get up until he was finished. I left his place by calling my mom to have her come get me, and I didn't want to go home, because I was to scared to be alone so I had her take me to that carnival where I knew I could walk, fragile, directly into the arms of that cute kicker, and be surrounded by all my friends- and thats exactly what I did.
The Second Time:
Towards the end of high school I began dating an upperclassman.
I had never had more chemistry with anyone the way I did with him, at the time.
Our relationship was very sexual, very early on. In fact we even had a sex notebook where we would tally and keep track of how many times we had done it (insert covered eye monkey emoji here, sorry mom)
We were both completely obsessed with one another, in the most unhealthy of ways.
He was so controlling, and extremely manipulating.
Our relationship got to the point where I would have to check in with him, to approve my outfits, and became selective on who I hung out with when I wasn't around him. I would have to call him whenever I was coming and going from places. And if I made the mistake and forgot to, I would be punished. He even began altering the relationship I had with my mother at times, pulling us apart.
To say this boy had a hold on me, is the understatement of my life.
I was controlled, consumed, and living in fear of him.
Now, I'm no angel here. In fact, up until I met my ex husband in 2009 I had cheated on every guy
I had been with. Emotionally. But thats irrelevant.
Cheating is cheating in my eyes.
So while dating this guy, I was secretively talking to my ex, the kicker.
My boyfriend at the time had found out about it, and instead of breaking up with me he decided to punish me.
He made me do unexplainable things. Things that the me I am today would never consider. One of these said things, was to make the entire school believe we were broken up and that we were just really close friends so that I could set him up with my own "friends" and watch them go out with one another. No really, the sick fuck made me go on his dates with these girls to watch them kiss and shit, while we would both get in separate cars and meet each other at his house afterwards.
Another thing he used a punished was forcing me into my first threesome.
I have nothing against threesomes. However, as a 17 year old girl, being forced to lay there while another girl seduces against your will, and your demented boyfriend sits in a chair fulfilling all of his Godfather fantasies, while tears stream down your cheeks silently kinda ruins any chance of you enjoying a threesome.
However I blamed myself, for cheating. And thought I deserved it.
I believe in karma, and I don't think thats what that bitch had in mind.
I got my karma for cheating with that said ex husband, whom was the first person I never cheated on who ended up cheating on me twice, leading me to leave that marriage.
The Other Times:
There are quite a few others that while in the moment I didn't think anything of them, but looking back on them... they were wrong. I said no, and my voice wasn't heard.
Like the times an ex of mine trapped me underneath him on his cold laundry room floor while his dad drank beers just steps away from us in the garage.
Or like the weekends spent at OU while briefly attending Hocking College.
I was 4 orange sparks deep, and too intoxicated to know who's bedroom I was coming out of while everyone giggled in the living room.
If I am being honest with myself, almost every man I had been with with had sexually assaulted me at some point in our relationships.
The Kickers Turn:
Was New Years 2019.
Remember that cute kicker?
Yeah, the guy I lost my virginity to?
My first love..if you will
Yeah, well it was with him.
We had reconnected after my divorce and had seen each other numerous times.
The definition of our relationship was never black an white. Always gray.
So. Fucking. Gray.
Just like that night.
We had gone out for tacos, per usual.
We went to a couple bars, played darts.
And at the time we were both living with our parents....
We wanted the night to contiue so we decided to get a hotel room close to home.
I had driven that night so we rode there together. We stoped and got wine, snacks, and spent the first few hours just talking and catching up more.
Prior to this even taking place I had told him via text, a couple nights before that if we ever got a hotel it would just be to hang out and that we would have to have some serious conversations about us and where we were heading before anything sexual happened.
So that is the direction our converstions went.
He started them. Saying all the right things with all the wrong intensions.
Being who he was to me, such a big part of my life, since we had known each other since 5th grade and dated off and on for 3 years
I believed him. In fact I think he even believed himself.
We did begin fooling around, and I was comfortable with it, I allowed it.
However the moment it started to cross a line for me I spoke up.
I said "no"
I said "I don't want to"
I said "stop"
and it continued...
for far too long
I then pulled myself off of him and as I did, he got up and walked out of the room, thank God. Him leaving the room allowed me time to grab my things and gain enough strength to storm out of there, leaving him stranded at a hotel room at 3am.
This isn't about sex, this is about living life as a woman and the reality we face that men will never understand.
A few months back I went out with one of my best friends. We were having a girls night and enjoying our time together as it's usually spent at the salon or working.
We went to a couple bars after dinner and as we were sitting at one, this group of guys across from us starting hooting and hollering. Trying to get our attention & tried to get us to join them.
Thankfully there was a gentleman among them, who spoke up. Telling his friends to leave us alone, and to let us enjoy our girl time in peace.
Bless that man. I think of him often as I wish more men had the upbringing and mentality he did.
We go to the next bar, and ending up meeting with my friends boyfriend and all his guy friends.
As we are walking into the bar I hear someone call my name.
It was a neighbor of mine that lived catty corner to my unit.
We say hi to each other in passing occasionally, and the one time we ever really spoke we were bitching about parking and the lack there of at our complex.
So cordially, I said hello and continued on my way with my friends.
As most nights out, we ended up leaving and going to another bar.
On our way out my neighbor grabbed me and pulled me over to his table, semi introducing my to his friends, mostly confessing his huge crush he has had on me.
He started saying things like "What I wouldn't give to climb up your balcony and rail the fuck out of you"
I then lifted my left hand, blinding him by the fake bling I wear when I go out and my long distance boyfriend isn't present.
He continued verbally assaulting me by saying "Yeah I see you and your boyfriend, or fiancé whatever he is, and I still don't care"
I rolled my eyes and nervously laughed and said "yeah never happening" as I walked out of the bar after my friends.
We wound up a few blocks down with a big table at another bar.
We weren't even there 15 minutes before this fucker showed up.
He followed me to the next bar.
In true creeper fashion, he went up to all the guys we were with that were friends of my bff's boyfriend and started buying them shots.
I'm assuming to assert dominance and carve his was into "our group" for the night.
My heart was racing.
I started to sweat and my face was flushed, from fear not tequila this time.
I saw him making his way over to me, and in a crowd full of people, with my boyfriend 200+ miles away all I could think of was that Tik Tok trend & Taylor swift lyric, "I think I've seen this movie before & I didn't like the ending"
He placed himself right beside me and put his hand on the small of my back
I swatted his arm away and said "don't touch me"
He tried to play it off like he didn't just invade my privacy but 1. following me around town and 2. touching me
He began to go back to the conversation I so abruptly walked away from at the last bar & it was even more alarming than before
He went on saying things like he watched me, and knew my schedule, and doesn't care if I was engaged (the fake bling remember?) and asked me if I would just have one last fling with him
To which my answer was obviously no
I started giving my bff "the look"
You know, especially if you are a women
And if you are on Tik Tok as much as me, the trend where it shows the two different looks a girl gives her friend at the bar. it was the second one. The terrified one. The help me, SOS one.
She caught the vibe, and took her high heel off and started shaking it at him from across the table screaming
" I know kraal mega mother fucker, don't test me" (insert crying laughing emoji because that shit was funny as fuck and probably the only time I laughed the second half of the night)
My friends bf saw her and asked what was going on. She briefly explained that they needed get me out of there & home safely before this fucker tries something.
They bought me an uber, and rode home with me to ensure I was home, inside, safely and the door was locked behind me.
In that moment, as the door shut behind me and I heard the lock click, I could finally take a deep breath.
I slide down the back of the door, onto the floor sobbing.
To think someone who lives so close to me, has been watching me , and my daughter was alarming.
The following weeks, were dark. I was traumatized. I was scared to go outside. I was scared to walk to my car as I had to pass his unit & vehicle to get to it.
I began taking all precautions I could.
I bought a ring camera, I kept my blinds drawn, I always looked to see if he was home before I left, I even spoke with the police and sent his information and the incident to our leasing office. I spoke to other neighbors, and turns out more women had similar encounters with him.
Though I never want anyone to find themself in this situation, or to feel as unsafe as I was feeling in my own home, it was nice to know I wasn't alone. I wasn't crazy, which I started to believe.
Society always makes you feel like you are being dramatic as a woman.
Like it didn't happen the way you think it did, and like the clothes you were wearing gave someone permission to take advantage of you.
They are wrong. You did nothing wrong.