When you are convinced that he loves you, and that you are somehow to blame for putting him in that position in the first place, it is surprisingly easy to “forgive” and “forget.”
Except, you don’t. Not really.
Every time he touches you, every time he kisses you, you wonder if it’s real.
You wonder if he remembers.
Even though he swears he doesn’t.
"How could I have done that to you?" [HE] asks. "It’s worse than murder!"
Yes. It is, isn’t it? Both crimes rob the victim of personhood. But murder has finality. Rape drags on and on.
You don’t bring it up. It’s like it never happened.
Except, it did.
You have sex again, one night. He’d promised to wait till you were ready. But in the meantime, he expected hand jobs and blow jobs. And he thinks he’s good at oral, but all he does is stick his nose up in there. You’ve tried very hard to pretend to enjoy it, so he doesn’t feel bad. But, God. You’re just so tired of being a masturbatory device. Sex — at least then you’d get some pleasure out of it. Maybe.
At first, you don’t. You think, “That’s natural. It takes time for a woman’s body to learn how to orgasm.” But your body never does learn. It flat-out refuses to go there with this boy. You pretend some more, so he doesn’t feel bad. He tells you making love to you is like a spiritual experience. You think, “It’s just mutual masturbation.”
Why, then? Why do you stay? How can you date him for two years — live with him for one?
What happened to me — being raped — is not “normal.” Obviously. And a person who rapes someone — that person is not “normal.” So a normal person who is thrust into this abnormal situation has no definitive, textbook way she can know how to react. Because all of sudden “normal” doesn’t exist anymore. So there’s no way any reaction can be “normal.”
I tried to make sense of what happened to me. Emotionally. Psychologically. Religiously. (Yes, my latent Catholic faith factored into this whole mess, too.) And what made sense to me — what made life “normal” again, what made me ”normal” again — was believing that the boy I was dating loved me so much that he had to have me. In his drunken, bestial, primal state, he couldn’t help himself.
And that’s BULLSHIT.
I’m sure you’ve heard the phrase, “Drunken words are sober thoughts.”
Normal people, when they get drunk — even blacked out — maybe misread the signals and lean in for a kiss and get shoved away. But when a girl says “NO” repeatedly — over and over — and you, as the drunk guy, have awareness enough to argue with that girl about why what you want is more important than what she wants … you do not fall within the realm of normal drunken behavior. You do not fall within the realm of normal human behavior.
You become a rapist. That is the name society gives you.