Part 1 of 2: The Second Time I Was Raped

9 Aug

Click the link to read the first half of my story if you’re interested.

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I met “N” just before my 25th birthday. After successfully avoiding J for the first few months of the new year, I felt like a new person. I had finally completed a move to a new city I’d been eyeing since I was old enough to dream, and I was confident because I knew I had relatives living there who could help make the transition easier for me. (And I wouldn’t be running into J so much anymore, so that was a major plus.) I hooked up with a close uncle and his family, and they introduced me to their church. I was targeted by N on my first visit.

Not My Type

Now if I said before that J wasn’t my type at first, I was telling you the truth, but N was completely not my type. I really liked his happy-go-lucky nature and sense of humor, but I wasn’t attracted to him and pegged him as a friend from the get-go. N was a year older than me and so intelligent that it showed in his face, the one guy that most of the church youth looked up to, and in some ways he reminded me of the stepfather I lost the year before. But N was attracted to me and told my uncle’s wife plainly, hoping she would give her blessing to take me out. Very ‘Pride and Prejudice’ of him, no?

I balked at the idea of dating again. I thought it would be rude to turn him down for such a nice offer, but I really didn’t want to be involved with men again that way, and I told him on the first date – which I allowed to actually be my birthday. You can tell me now of all the dating rules I broke by letting that happen and I’ll agree with you, but back then … I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain what was going on with me. In my heart I knew what I didn’t want, but I was so new to putting up boundaries for myself that even when I protested with my lips, I still followed the lead of others. I didn’t trust my own judgment enough to enforce it, and I think that’s what ultimately did me in.

Instant Connection

It took a month for us to be labeled a couple. I’m not kidding. I told everyone and anyone who asked that N and I were good friends, and N did the same, but nobody was buying it. At church, N would make a point of seeking me out to share a joke or his opinion on the sermon, and he would sit as close to me during lessons as possible. He texted me from dawn until dusk every day without fail. Picking me up 3, 4 times a week just to hang out and see a movie or grab something to eat and drive around until it was dark was no big deal to him. His mother and my uncle were so used to seeing us together that we had pretty much blended our families. We discussed politics, philosophy, the latest video games (to betray a little bit of my inner geek for you here). We talked about everything, and I told him some things about me that I never felt comfortable telling anyone else, not even J – but one thing I couldn’t bring myself to tell N the full story about was J. Sometimes N would go against code, break down, and confess how much he wanted to be my boyfriend, but I never let those discussions last very long until I thought I was going to lose him.

The End of the Chase

Isn’t is sad/pathetic/(insert your own descriptor here) how oftentimes, we never realize how much a person is growing on us until they decide to get involved with someone else? But 2 years later, N got tired of feeling rejected and started to see another girl that we had both just met, and I missed his company a lot more than I thought I would. Long story made short, I mustered up the courage to tell him how I felt and N confessed that he didn’t really want to date anyone else, and we finally became a couple. But it was weird – I felt like I was over the moon, and N was over it before it began. He was still really attentive physically, but it didn’t feel like his heart was in it anymore, and I began to feel insecure. We started sleeping together, but soon it began to feel like that was all we still did together. N wanted a lot of space. He’d stopped talking about marrying me someday. I didn’t know what to do to keep him interested, and didn’t realize that it wasn’t me – it was that the thrill of the chase was gone.

The Attack

One day at the end of the summer in 2010, I texted N desperate to hang out, and he picked me up to go for a drive. Our plans quickly changed to a hunt for a private make-out spot, which was frustrating with the sun still high in the sky and every place haunted by the 9-to-5 crowd. His place was out of the question and so was mine – our religion prohibited sex before marriage and we were clearly going against it and didn’t want to be caught. Finally we opted for N’s deserted future workplace, which at the time was under construction. N took me around the unfinished building to see where all the offices would be, and then down to the foyer. I had never done it in such a public place before – the most adventurous I had ever gone was a dark alley inside a parked car – and I was nervous about people on the street being able to detect us. N loosened me up enough to get my skirt off, his clothes off, and I saw him reach for a condom and start to put it on. The nerves came back in a flash. I asked him to wait for a few minutes, because I didn’t feel ready yet. N said, “Sure”, and gently took my knees in both of his large hands, resting my ankles on his shoulders. Suddenly I felt pressure. I asked what he was doing, naively. N: “Nothing.” I told him I had felt him pushing his way in. N: “No, look, see? It’s out”, followed by a popping sound. I relaxed, but only by a notch. Then I felt him again.

This time, it hurt. His grip on my legs tightened, he crossed his arms around them so that it was harder for me to move. I was stunned, and I said, “You know, what you’re doing is rape” in a quiet voice that I didn’t recognize from me. All I remember after that is how much the reaction look on his face terrified me – something like a mix of rage and loathing and mocking, maybe. I got scared, and I thought about how pathetic I had been with J, not moving or screaming, and how I was doing the same thing again as N, who was easily twice or maybe 3 times my size, made feel like a world-class idiot. I can’t tell you how long it lasted, but it felt like forever. I just laid still and watched him and tried not to make it any more painful. The next thing I heard myself say was, “Can you take it out, please? It kind of hurts”, and that finally stopped him. Once we had disconnected, I shot off the carpenter’s table I had been lying on and stayed in a corner of the room, putting my skirt back on. N apologized a few times. He said he thought I was joking, but I didn’t talk. I was dumb enough to let him drive me home. I started screaming and yelling at him halfway through the ride, and he never tried to stop me. After I got out of the car, I went straight to my room, and talked myself into believing I could have a good night’s sleep. I couldn’t sleep, so I called a friend from my hometown and told him what had happened. He got angry, comforted me a bit, gave me some advice, and promised to call again in the morning. Then I finally fell asleep.

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