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I Sort of Dated My Rapist...

by Rachel Hunt 5 years ago in humanity
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After he raped me.

Names and every other (unimportant) detail that might make people realize this is me have been changed.

I was 18. And I was stupid.

No I have to stop that. I wasn't stupid. I was young and so much had already happened in my life that I no longer really cared what else did. I had been kicked out of my parents house, gotten a reputation as a slut at school, and had become sort of a drug addicted reckless monster.

But enough about me. Let's talk about him. He was a couple years older than me but hung out with my group. You know the group. Wrong side of the tracks. The kids always skipping school and smoking pot in the bathroom. The ones who would soon end up working a minimum wage job with a couple kids. My friends thought he was cool I guess. Or maybe they just liked having him around because he could buy alcohol. I don't really know; they weren't really my friends.

But I know I didn't like him. He was thick and muscular and had a face I wasn't slightly attracted to. He claimed to be a gang banger. And he was always hurling vulgar comments my way, swearing I would sleep with him soon.

"Nope never gonna happen," I would say, not flirting at all, looking at him with disgust.

I told him that that same day too, I'm sure.

We scored a lot of Xanax that night. I'm pretty sure he and a couple of the others robbed a crackhead. I didn't care. I had never done it before. They showed me how to snort it and then lick the plate. I then proceeded to polish it off with half a fifth of cheap vodka. I don't even remember feeling good before it went black.

Not that I actually remember blacking out. How can you remember forgetting? One moment I'm killing vodka at the beginning of the night, the next I'm waking up to bright light.

I was completely naked, not even a blanket on me. And there he was lying naked next to me. I knew what must have happened but I couldn't recall a single moment of it.

I wasn't crying. I was just in shock. I couldn't believe it. How had this happened? How had I slept with this guy who disgusted me? Who I had made clear to all my friends that he disgusted me?

Somehow I found my clothes and wandered out to the living room to find everyone passed out. I shook my best friend at the time, Anna, awake.

I don't remember exactly what was said but I know I was just telling her over and over that I couldn't believe what had happened. How humiliated I was.

And she laughed. She said that I had wanted him to fuck me. She said I was really fucked up, she even had to help me use the bathroom a couple times, I couldn't even wipe myself. But at one point we were in a car and she had heard me moan when he touched me. So she knew I wanted him. And then she went back to sleep.

I didn't know what to think. Except that I'm a slut and I'm not a victim and no one will ever see it any other way.

Pretty soon everyone was awake and laughing about the events of the night before. Everyone knew. Everyone knew I was blacked out but they said I had had a good time. They could hear it. And at one point he had ran into the living room asking where the lube was because I had asked him to fuck me in the ass.

And I laughed along. And I repeated to myself, I am a slut, this is not what rape looks like, my friends would have saved me.

And he was nice to me. And I let him be. Because you're not raped if your rapist kisses you and hugs you the next morning. Right?

You're not raped if you're rapist starts holding your hand in public. You're not raped if you sleep with him again willingly. You're not raped if he eventually decides he doesn't like you that much and starts talking to a friend of yours and you feel just a little hurt because even the guy you found disgusting doesn't like you once he gets to know you. Right?



About the author

Rachel Hunt

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