#METOO
I wasn't going to do a blog on this topic until I saw the outpour of stories on a friend's Facebook status talking about why she didn't report her sexual assault. I was surprised by the number of women who shared their stories and the most common line was "I was told I was a liar" or "I didn't think anyone would believe me." And almost all of the women who spoke out were assaulted by someone they knew-a lover, a friend, a partner, some even family members. I've never shared the entirety of what's happened to me before, just a few parts, so today I'd like to talk about it for all people who are out there dealing with it. It doesn't matter if you're male, female, transgendered, genderfluid, or whatever label you wish to assign to yourself or whatever you identify as, you were still assaulted. It's not your fault.
For me, heaving "it's not your fault" made little to no difference to me. I never thought it was my fault. Maybe I'm not alone in thinking this. I knew that I didn't do anything wrong in any of the situations. The first situation was in my own home with someone I trusted. I'd shared my home with a friend who wanted and somewhat needed a place to go; I always let him and his girlfriend in anytime that they needed a place to crash, as I was friends with both of them. They were staying the night at my house when it happened. I didn't want to watch them have sex or deal with them trying to fuck my mattress to death. I wanted to leave and he kept shoving me down while she watched. He slapped me in the face with his flaccid cock and was telling me that I needed to get in on it. I didn't want his dick anywhere near me, knowing all the other places it had been, but he wouldn't stop. He did it a few times while she just sat there. She didn't even say anything. I didn't ask them to leave even though I wanted them to. I felt voiceless. I didn't understand why I was being treated like this. He was supposed to be my friend; I'd helped him all these times and he did this to me? He tried it a second time on another evening and I just laughed. I didn't want to bring it up. I didn't want to be seen as a prude or a pussy. Laughing it off was the worst thing I could have done. I left not long after these occurrences and never spoke to him again, so thankfully I didn't have to put up with more of the same or worse. I didn't say anything when I really should have. I should have known that I had more worth than what he had assigned to me. Maybe if I had really stood up for myself, the other instances wouldn't have occurred.
I had gone out with my uncle's current wife and her friends to see a film. Nothing out of the ordinary; I'd gone out with them before. She said that she wasn't to stop off and get a drink before we headed home and that I wasn't wild about but I didn't want to be a spoilsport, so I went along. Her mate, he was pretty sauced in the cinema and kept trying to touch my hand. Drunk people do stupid shit like that, I wanted to hold people's hands while drunk, so I didn't think anything of it. When we got to the pub, I actually didn't drink. I wanted to watch, knowing how she is with drink, I wanted to be able to get a ride if I needed one. She'd had a few drinks by now and I didn't feel comfortable going with her, so I stepped outside to ring my nan to have her pick me up. I was returning a text to a mate when drunky from the cinema came out and told me that I looked good. I didn't really know what to say. I didn't want to lead him on or piss him off; you never know how someone intoxicated will react. I just smiled and he moved closer to me. I told him that I was talking to someone and it was a private conversation but he didn't want to listen. He started grinding up on me, feeling me up trying to kiss me. I pulled away and told him that I wasn't interested. He asked me if I wanted to fool around while his hands moved across my collarbones. I told him no that I wasn't interested. Thankfully some blokes came out and saw him. He's 40 years older than me and he was trying to get up on me in a carpark. I didn't want to go back with them or deal with my so-called aunt. I rang my nan and told her I needed her to come pick me up. I didn't mention the groping and coping of feelings, I knew that would serve to upset her further. She called her son, my so-called uncle to go get me and he, in turn, called his wife who screamed at me for ruining her evening. She said that we were supposed to be friends and how could I do this to her. What? Not want to go somewhere with a woman who's been drinking and also is on medications, not to mention her fucked up friend trying to mount me? Later on, I found out he's her first ex-husband. If that isn't Jeremy Kyle worthy, I don't know what is.
I didn't tell her what happened until my so-called uncle came back to his house where I was waiting with her. We'd dropped her mates off. Nobody would come to get me, I was told that I had to go with them. I felt trapped. I thought well at least if I die in a car crash I won't have to put up with this life anymore. Doing the right thing doesn't matter, because in the end, everything I do, or have done is wrong. He was screaming at me for calling and upsetting his mum and he threatened to kill me if I ever did anything like that again. I'd just been groped by his friend-one of his wife's many husbands and he's semi-intoxicated himself screaming in my face that he's going to kill me and throw me in the ground. And I told him what happened with drunky. What he did to me, what he said and how I just wanted to leave. He believed me for the moment, she hugged me and was crying. I lost my shit and started sobbing over what happened. I felt dirty that he'd felt up me and was grinding up on me. At the time, it didn't compute that he was trying to rape me; that if those men hadn't walked out when they had, things could have ended differently. The reality of that sunk in, in that small cramped kitchen and I started crying. I was taken home and was told not to report anything that it would be dealt with internally. It wasn't. They continued to bring his drunk-ass around, called me a liar and said no one would believe me. I told my grandparents finally after a while since he was coming round more and I didn't want anything else to happen. My grandfather told me I was a liar and said that he'd spoken to his son and was told that I'd make up a story like this because I hate him. I didn't hate him before this. I left for Germany. I didn't want the reminder of being called a liar when I needed help weighing on me. I didn't want that sack of shit around me. I ran away. Rather than stand up for myself, knowing how it would be viewed by police, and how things were received by my own family, I ran away.
I wish I could say that was all that happened, but let's fast forward a year. I'd gone halfway around the world to meet a friend I'd made on the internet. We'd spoken months before pretty much every day. We shared so much with each other. I was excited to meet her. Everything was going great. We were having amazing adventures and good times. She told me that she was attracted to me, that she liked me, that she thought she was in love with me. I was flattered but didn't know what to do. I liked someone else and didn't have the same feelings for her. She knew I liked someone else and I was clear that I didn't harbour feelings for her like that. She respected what I had to say and I didn't give it another thought until we were in Wellington. I'd taken meds to help me sleep that night. I'd not used my sleeping meds on the trip until that night, but I was just worn down and really wanted to get some sleep, so I took them. We were sleeping together, why spend more money when we didn't need to? She'd been up against me the entire trip so I didn't think anything of her side being up against mine. I was completely drugged up and foggy when I felt her hand against me. She touched me, groped up on my chest. I slurrly told her no and she pulled her hand away. I rolled over and went back to sleep. I felt disgusting. I felt like "what the fuck, why is this happening again?" She apologised, saying that she didn't know what she was doing. I accepted her apology. Maybe I was blowing it out of proportion, after all, I was all fuzzy. I could have overreacted or misinterpreted it. Then it happened again. At her grandmother's house. We were laying in the bed together and she started running her hands all over me. She told me to be quiet and just like it, let her explore me. I froze. I just let it happen. I just stared at the ceiling while her chubby fingers explored my body and she whispered how sexy I was. I awkwardly shrugged it off, I didn't say anything.
I was going home and she told me she didn't want to lose me, that we should give "us" a chance. I didn't want to be rude or, I don't know have her spill what had happened because I wasn't comfortable with my sexuality yet, was still confused about who and what I was and didn't want more abuse, like what I'd suffered at the hands of my classmates, that I said yes. She came to visit me at the holidays a month or so later and that was a fiasco. She liked washing me in the shower. I took it as, well someone wants to touch me, someone cares about me, I will get over this and it will all work out. Maybe I should just grow up and stick with her because no one else will ever want me. She laid me on my bedroom floor and was lotioning me when she stuck her fingers inside me. I didn't- I told her no. The first time that I was clear about what was happening to me and said something about it. She was fondling me in my home-the one place where I have the right to feel safe. She got upset with me. I guess she thought that things changed because she was my girlfriend and I'd allowed her to wash me in the shower. I didn't want it. I have every right to say no. It pissed her off and it ended in bloodshed.
I learned that both men and women are sexual predators. Their gender identities and sexual orientations don't matter at all. I thought it would be easier to meet a girl that I'd met online. I didn't think she'd hurt me. She fucked me up but didn't really hurt me. I learned that keeping my mouth shut was a mistake. I should have said things to other people. I guess on some level I believed that I deserved these things. And on another level, I thought at least these people found me somewhat desirable. I wasn't as ugly and corrupt as I thought I was. It's taken me a long time to realise that I was nothing more than a person of opportunity. It had nothing to do with my physical attractiveness. The words that were said to me were all just as meaningless as all of the fake friends I'd had in the past and maybe this was worse.
I don't let people get close. I won't allow them to touch me unless I trust them, which is rare. I wasn't big on touch before but this really soured me. It was years before I allowed anyone to touch me and he just grabbed me. If it was anyone other than him, I think I would have lost my shit, but I was alright. He was warm and safe. These days I'm a little more comfortable with touch and embracing, but I'm constantly on the lookout for people who want to hurt me. These events have both helped and hurt me. I've withdrawn and lost out on experiences, but it's also kept me from making the same mistake before.
I don't believe that alcohol or drugs are a defence for any behaviour. I've been drunk and or high and attracted to people and made moves on them and when they said no, I backed off right away. I asked them if they were interested or tried with a simple touching. I never tried to push or persuade the girls or the boys. "I can't control myself" is pure bullshit. You're not the only one under the influence who's been sexually frustrated. Lock 'em up. I think sexual abuse is the most disgusting thing on the face of the Earth.
For me, heaving "it's not your fault" made little to no difference to me. I never thought it was my fault. Maybe I'm not alone in thinking this. I knew that I didn't do anything wrong in any of the situations. The first situation was in my own home with someone I trusted. I'd shared my home with a friend who wanted and somewhat needed a place to go; I always let him and his girlfriend in anytime that they needed a place to crash, as I was friends with both of them. They were staying the night at my house when it happened. I didn't want to watch them have sex or deal with them trying to fuck my mattress to death. I wanted to leave and he kept shoving me down while she watched. He slapped me in the face with his flaccid cock and was telling me that I needed to get in on it. I didn't want his dick anywhere near me, knowing all the other places it had been, but he wouldn't stop. He did it a few times while she just sat there. She didn't even say anything. I didn't ask them to leave even though I wanted them to. I felt voiceless. I didn't understand why I was being treated like this. He was supposed to be my friend; I'd helped him all these times and he did this to me? He tried it a second time on another evening and I just laughed. I didn't want to bring it up. I didn't want to be seen as a prude or a pussy. Laughing it off was the worst thing I could have done. I left not long after these occurrences and never spoke to him again, so thankfully I didn't have to put up with more of the same or worse. I didn't say anything when I really should have. I should have known that I had more worth than what he had assigned to me. Maybe if I had really stood up for myself, the other instances wouldn't have occurred.
I had gone out with my uncle's current wife and her friends to see a film. Nothing out of the ordinary; I'd gone out with them before. She said that she wasn't to stop off and get a drink before we headed home and that I wasn't wild about but I didn't want to be a spoilsport, so I went along. Her mate, he was pretty sauced in the cinema and kept trying to touch my hand. Drunk people do stupid shit like that, I wanted to hold people's hands while drunk, so I didn't think anything of it. When we got to the pub, I actually didn't drink. I wanted to watch, knowing how she is with drink, I wanted to be able to get a ride if I needed one. She'd had a few drinks by now and I didn't feel comfortable going with her, so I stepped outside to ring my nan to have her pick me up. I was returning a text to a mate when drunky from the cinema came out and told me that I looked good. I didn't really know what to say. I didn't want to lead him on or piss him off; you never know how someone intoxicated will react. I just smiled and he moved closer to me. I told him that I was talking to someone and it was a private conversation but he didn't want to listen. He started grinding up on me, feeling me up trying to kiss me. I pulled away and told him that I wasn't interested. He asked me if I wanted to fool around while his hands moved across my collarbones. I told him no that I wasn't interested. Thankfully some blokes came out and saw him. He's 40 years older than me and he was trying to get up on me in a carpark. I didn't want to go back with them or deal with my so-called aunt. I rang my nan and told her I needed her to come pick me up. I didn't mention the groping and coping of feelings, I knew that would serve to upset her further. She called her son, my so-called uncle to go get me and he, in turn, called his wife who screamed at me for ruining her evening. She said that we were supposed to be friends and how could I do this to her. What? Not want to go somewhere with a woman who's been drinking and also is on medications, not to mention her fucked up friend trying to mount me? Later on, I found out he's her first ex-husband. If that isn't Jeremy Kyle worthy, I don't know what is.
I didn't tell her what happened until my so-called uncle came back to his house where I was waiting with her. We'd dropped her mates off. Nobody would come to get me, I was told that I had to go with them. I felt trapped. I thought well at least if I die in a car crash I won't have to put up with this life anymore. Doing the right thing doesn't matter, because in the end, everything I do, or have done is wrong. He was screaming at me for calling and upsetting his mum and he threatened to kill me if I ever did anything like that again. I'd just been groped by his friend-one of his wife's many husbands and he's semi-intoxicated himself screaming in my face that he's going to kill me and throw me in the ground. And I told him what happened with drunky. What he did to me, what he said and how I just wanted to leave. He believed me for the moment, she hugged me and was crying. I lost my shit and started sobbing over what happened. I felt dirty that he'd felt up me and was grinding up on me. At the time, it didn't compute that he was trying to rape me; that if those men hadn't walked out when they had, things could have ended differently. The reality of that sunk in, in that small cramped kitchen and I started crying. I was taken home and was told not to report anything that it would be dealt with internally. It wasn't. They continued to bring his drunk-ass around, called me a liar and said no one would believe me. I told my grandparents finally after a while since he was coming round more and I didn't want anything else to happen. My grandfather told me I was a liar and said that he'd spoken to his son and was told that I'd make up a story like this because I hate him. I didn't hate him before this. I left for Germany. I didn't want the reminder of being called a liar when I needed help weighing on me. I didn't want that sack of shit around me. I ran away. Rather than stand up for myself, knowing how it would be viewed by police, and how things were received by my own family, I ran away.
I wish I could say that was all that happened, but let's fast forward a year. I'd gone halfway around the world to meet a friend I'd made on the internet. We'd spoken months before pretty much every day. We shared so much with each other. I was excited to meet her. Everything was going great. We were having amazing adventures and good times. She told me that she was attracted to me, that she liked me, that she thought she was in love with me. I was flattered but didn't know what to do. I liked someone else and didn't have the same feelings for her. She knew I liked someone else and I was clear that I didn't harbour feelings for her like that. She respected what I had to say and I didn't give it another thought until we were in Wellington. I'd taken meds to help me sleep that night. I'd not used my sleeping meds on the trip until that night, but I was just worn down and really wanted to get some sleep, so I took them. We were sleeping together, why spend more money when we didn't need to? She'd been up against me the entire trip so I didn't think anything of her side being up against mine. I was completely drugged up and foggy when I felt her hand against me. She touched me, groped up on my chest. I slurrly told her no and she pulled her hand away. I rolled over and went back to sleep. I felt disgusting. I felt like "what the fuck, why is this happening again?" She apologised, saying that she didn't know what she was doing. I accepted her apology. Maybe I was blowing it out of proportion, after all, I was all fuzzy. I could have overreacted or misinterpreted it. Then it happened again. At her grandmother's house. We were laying in the bed together and she started running her hands all over me. She told me to be quiet and just like it, let her explore me. I froze. I just let it happen. I just stared at the ceiling while her chubby fingers explored my body and she whispered how sexy I was. I awkwardly shrugged it off, I didn't say anything.
I was going home and she told me she didn't want to lose me, that we should give "us" a chance. I didn't want to be rude or, I don't know have her spill what had happened because I wasn't comfortable with my sexuality yet, was still confused about who and what I was and didn't want more abuse, like what I'd suffered at the hands of my classmates, that I said yes. She came to visit me at the holidays a month or so later and that was a fiasco. She liked washing me in the shower. I took it as, well someone wants to touch me, someone cares about me, I will get over this and it will all work out. Maybe I should just grow up and stick with her because no one else will ever want me. She laid me on my bedroom floor and was lotioning me when she stuck her fingers inside me. I didn't- I told her no. The first time that I was clear about what was happening to me and said something about it. She was fondling me in my home-the one place where I have the right to feel safe. She got upset with me. I guess she thought that things changed because she was my girlfriend and I'd allowed her to wash me in the shower. I didn't want it. I have every right to say no. It pissed her off and it ended in bloodshed.
I learned that both men and women are sexual predators. Their gender identities and sexual orientations don't matter at all. I thought it would be easier to meet a girl that I'd met online. I didn't think she'd hurt me. She fucked me up but didn't really hurt me. I learned that keeping my mouth shut was a mistake. I should have said things to other people. I guess on some level I believed that I deserved these things. And on another level, I thought at least these people found me somewhat desirable. I wasn't as ugly and corrupt as I thought I was. It's taken me a long time to realise that I was nothing more than a person of opportunity. It had nothing to do with my physical attractiveness. The words that were said to me were all just as meaningless as all of the fake friends I'd had in the past and maybe this was worse.
I don't let people get close. I won't allow them to touch me unless I trust them, which is rare. I wasn't big on touch before but this really soured me. It was years before I allowed anyone to touch me and he just grabbed me. If it was anyone other than him, I think I would have lost my shit, but I was alright. He was warm and safe. These days I'm a little more comfortable with touch and embracing, but I'm constantly on the lookout for people who want to hurt me. These events have both helped and hurt me. I've withdrawn and lost out on experiences, but it's also kept me from making the same mistake before.
I don't believe that alcohol or drugs are a defence for any behaviour. I've been drunk and or high and attracted to people and made moves on them and when they said no, I backed off right away. I asked them if they were interested or tried with a simple touching. I never tried to push or persuade the girls or the boys. "I can't control myself" is pure bullshit. You're not the only one under the influence who's been sexually frustrated. Lock 'em up. I think sexual abuse is the most disgusting thing on the face of the Earth.
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