Sometimes things have to be said...

I recently read that 1 in 5 women (age 16-59) has been sexually assaulted.  If you are one of the lucky ones who has escaped this, then I ask you to look at your 4 closest girlfriends and ask yourself "Who is living with this and not talking about it?".  This is not something I talk about.  These are not things that anyone really knows about me.  These are also not things that have ever defined me, nor will they ever.  But these are things that happened.  

My first kiss... something that should have been magical and beautiful, was a result of assault.  I was at a neighbor's holiday party and their adopted son offered to give me a tour of their house.  When we got to his bedroom, he pinned me down on his bed and forcefully kissed me. When he let me up, he told me to go back downstairs and act like nothing happened.  I was 15 years old.  I was not attracted to him, and I didn't know what to do.  I let it happen, yet for years after, whenever I saw him, I felt sick to my stomach.  I have since told anyone who was interested, that my first kiss was with my first boyfriend, in his car, in my parents' driveway.  The way it should have been.

Years later, when I was sowing some oats after leaving a long relationship,  I found myself flirting with a guy at a bar one night.  I had a fair amount of beer and felt okay, and to be perfectly honest, was intending on taking him home with me.  However, at some point, he brought me a beer and it gets a little hazy after that.  I remember walking to my house from the bar with him.  I remember saying "I'm really drunk, I don't know if we should do this."  I remember fooling around and making him promise to wear a condom.  Then I passed out.   The next thing I remember is waking up hours later with him on top of me, not able to move or protest.  I barely knew what was happening.  I don't know whether I had more to drink than I realized, or if he drugged me, but regardless, he did what he wanted to do and was not wearing a condom.   

I remember going to Planned Parenthood that week, feeling like a total whore and thinking "If I end up with an STD, I have no one to blame but myself."  

I made better decisions after that.  I made sure not to put myself in situations like that and tried not to blame myself completely for my poor judgement. 

This is a hot-button topic right now, in light of the Steubenville, OH case.  I read about it.  I watched the YouTube videos of the bystanders laughing and joking about it.  I've seen how it's affected people I care about and compelled them to share their own stories, no matter how horrific.  And that's why I decided to share mine.  I have chosen not to let these things affect my life, but others don't have that luxury.  This shit is not funny, and it's time we put a stop to it.