What I Said to Him

“We’re going to fuck anyways so we might as well do it now."

I said this to him after many hours of him begging and wearing me down. After I’d given in to every single thing I’d originally refused. After I’d reluctantly given him head because I thought that would end things. After I promised him that I would have sex with him tomorrow. After I begged him: Please, I'll do it tomorrow! I promise!It was easier for me to let it happen than continue to fight it. There are only so many times you can push someone’s hand away from your breast. Only so many times you can try to maneuver your body beneath a man’s crushing weight so that he isn’t almost penetrating you through your thin pajama bottoms. I gave reason after reason why I didn’t want to have sex with him, but my no was not enough. And yet, I never tried to push him off me. I don’t believe it even occurred to me to demand him to leave. I wasn’t firm or aggressive enough. I asked him to stop again and again. I made it very clear that I was not enjoying or even comfortable with the situation he was forcing on me. Or did I? I was nice about it. He was my friend. And I was so completely taken aback by his bizarre behavior that I didn’t know how to react. The crying, the sulking, the begging; his whining, “I’m sooo hoooorny” over and over. I just wanted to end the situation with the least damage possible and without causing a bigger scene. Yes, I let it happen. I let him rape me. Why wasn’t I strong enough to withstand his intrusive, manipulative behavior? Why was I unable to permit myself the appropriate level of outrage? Why was I more concerned about hurting him through my rejection than for my own physical and emotional safety? I had a habit of letting people walk all over me; use me, even. People will treat you the way you allow them. My twisted logic dictates that had I been a stronger woman, this would never have happened.

My twisted logic dictates that had I been a stronger woman, this would never have happened.

When he finally penetrated me, it was over quickly. It did not hurt. I laid there limp, unmoving, and unresponsive. I remember him sprawled on top of me, the feeling of his body engulfing me. The strange sensation of the partially deflated air mattress rolling beneath me as he thrusted. I felt calm and detached. My head turned to the left, neck curved over the edge of the air mattress. My most vivid memory is looking at the dark metal leg of my desk, just a few inches from my face, and at the dust bunnies that had collected between the desk and the wall along the molding at the base of the wall. Afterwards, I didn’t want to share the bed with him, but of course he insisted. And this time I relented easily, too tired to protest. I tried to sleep while he clutched me tightly, shaking and kissing my neck and back. He was pathetic and disgusting. I almost felt sorry for him.