Failure to Refuse

I want to share a story of my first sexual experience. It serves for me as catharsis. I also hope to give gentle cautionary advice. My goal is for people to find courage when they're afraid to speak. This tale begins long ago in my life and comes full circle in the current era.

Decades ago, I attended a school dance, and my boyfriend and I left a bit early, for what I believed would be a make-out session. I hadn't made any promises or agreed otherwise. He led me far from the prying eyes of peers and adults who might intervene, and before I knew it, my underwear was off, and the condom was on. It didn't go well or last long, but I did not deny him access to my body. I wasn't a virgin anymore. He was the king for the summer and bragged about it to everyone.

I told myself he raped me; perhaps he did as it related to the age of consent and whatnot (I digress.) I hated him, still do, but what I hated the most was not saying no. I failed to realize the danger when enticed to sneak away. I didn't intervene when it went further than I intended, and when it mattered, I was unable to speak up. I said nothing. I screamed it in my head. I remember my intense mental anguish in those moments. I've spent thousands on counseling for this (and other things), but I still can't figure out for the life of me why I didn't say anything.

Wait. No. Stop. Don't.

At so many different times, I could have intervened on my behalf. I didn't tell anyone. I concentrated my boiling hate when he and his friends called a slut for giving it up so easily. I was humbled by embarrassment when a boy I had a crush on told his friends he would never take me out because I was dirty. I felt victimized again and again as my tales of my prowess were added upon by liars who simply claimed they had but had not. I stayed silent. I didn't deny or intervene on my behalf.

Here a more vengeful person might have cried rape. We were both under 14, so neither of us was capable of consent. It wasn't rape. I might have claimed such, and it would have made some trouble for him, saved some face, and gotten some sympathy from my peers instead of year upon year of humiliation. It would likely have ruined his life, which I can't say would have mattered, given his life skills.

I would have had to answer one critical question. Did I resist? No. Did he pressure me? Yes, but I never said no. Maybe if I had, he would have stopped, Maybe not. I'll never know. He didn't wield any authoritative or financial power over me as a cop or boss would. He was just a stupid horny boy, I tell myself, "he probably would have stopped." It would have maybe been the end of the shitty romance or whatever, but I could have saved myself tons of regret.

No. Stop. Don't.

It's so easy! Why didn't I say it!? Fast forward through decades of crappy abusive relationships and poor coping skills, additional traumatic events, including a divorce involving domestic violence. The dawn of the era of #metoo hit home for me. I didn't feel like I should have been part of the outcry group, although my first experience and other experiences might have easily included me. I understand why some victims don't speak up for years or let blatant harassment go on. Why did these attacks happen? Well, because they just did.

Most people (especially women) lack verbal skills or confidence to intervene on their behalf. I'm sure there are millions of scenarios, but I only use this one for my story. My comments here are not to say that some women lie, or that men don't rape. I also don't blame the victim. It is the responsibility of both parties to make sure that both consent. I'm only here to tell you this story about my experience. As I said in the beginning, I would bring it back to this current era. I just went through a nasty divorce. It was physical and emotional hell being married, but the divorce was ugly. Somehow, I managed to disentangle myself from an Uber-toxic narcissist with a penchant for coercion.

Lots of counseling and crying later, I start dating a nice fellow. He knows my story, and we take things slow. Eventually, things progress into the bedroom, totally consensual, of course, but when it comes time to leave because I have responsibilities to attend to, he tries to stop me. First, with sweetness, I continue pressing my exit. His pressure to stay becomes more passionate. He keeps asking, and I keep declining.

At some point, it leads to playful tussling, which is very likely to trigger my PTSD. That is where I draw the line. I continue to be nice, but my demeanor changes. I say, "I keep saying no, and you keep asking. It's starting to offend me." As plain as that. The look of surprise on his face!

He changed immediately. He hadn't realized the whole time that I was serious about leaving. Somehow, he saw it as an invitation for a further tryst. He apologized gently and said he never meant to offend and thought we were playing. Had I not spoken up, that "playing" would have likely continued, but I would have resented him not stopping with a different experience for me. It might have felt like rape even, despite having had sex earlier, that additional encounter would have taken on a different tone if I had tried to leave, and he had not allowed it. I would have resented him and stopped talking to him.

I had to shed the fear of loss, my speaking up could have annoyed him, and he might not want to see me. I was prepared to accept that. If he had not stopped, then that would undoubtedly be rape, but that's not what we are talking about here. He did stop and acknowledge his misunderstanding, and we've continued to enjoy a satisfying relationship.

In the weeks since then, I think back on that evening when I left the school dance, and my life took a tremendous left turn. So many people are conditioned to "be nice," accept their place, compromise, share and allow injustice in the name of keeping the peace or stability of the status quo. I don't think we should, though. I think it's better to speak up and be assertive. It doesn't mean those nasty things won't happen, but at least you can say you defended yourself. I think about that time as an insecure teenager, and if I had just dared to say, "I don't want to do this" - all the heartache and pain I could have saved myself!

Alas, it had made me who I am, and each person is thrust unto their journey. I have made a strong point on building up my kids and making sure they understand how interpersonal relationships are supposed to work and give them strong communication skills. I try to teach them that their feelings and bodies are theirs to own and control, and if someone doesn't respect that, they don't need that person.

Also, not to be afraid to remove bad relationships from their lives and not dwell on why but instead to move away from toxic people and find the good ones. I teach them how to tell their friends (nicely) when they've hurt feelings and admit when they have been wrong. Mostly, I encourage them to be in control and situationally aware. If they can avoid a bad experience altogether, it's better than having to talk (or fight) their way out of one, and the alternative of doing nothing doesn't work.

I also find that it's smart to record pretty much everything passively. I'm not sure its legality, but it will be documented at least if you say no. This is another topic of discussion "no one will believe you." (My ex got away with a lot because of that one, but that's another story.)