I’m a Man Who Was Raped

Rape is a strong word and a horrific action. I don’t use it lightly and I certainly don’t want to take away from experiences that were more tramautic or violent than mine. That isn’t fair. It would be equally unfair to present what happened to me as anything less than a violation of my body and my comfort. I shouldn’t have to treat what happened to me as a “lesser” rape.

This post already fucking sucks to write.

Some background on me: I’m pretty promiscuous. I am a loyal man when it comes to relationships. When I commit to a woman, I see in her something that makes me want to be better and I am all about that. I don’t and won’t stray. As a single man, however, I love women. I love all shapes, sizes, shades of women. Long hair, short hair, blonde, brunette, whatever.  I don’t necessarily have a type, I just like… aspects. I’m a sexual guy. I don’t apologize for it and I wouldn’t expect anyone else to either, as long as it’s safe and consensual.

When I had sex with this woman the first time, it was consensual. I was in a bad place in my life and I was really drunk, but I absolutely invited it and the sex was…eh, alright. She was far, far from anything I would normally go for and I wasn’t exactly on my A game but it was what it was and I resolved that that was it. The only time. We had talked before about the lack of strings and the “it’s just for fun, that’s it, good game” approach.

A week or two later at the bar, two days before my birthday, she was distraught over details I don’t want to say because some of my readers know her. I tried to comfort her. She tried to feel up on my crotch. I did my best to pull away without making it obvious and insisted on being a support. I also got completely fucking hammered because it was just one of those bar crazy nights.

Bar break hits and everyone finds themselves outside arranging rides. I had talked with this woman and her friends a bit and resolved to grab a cab. She insisted on driving me home. I declined. She reminded me that I could save money by not taking a cab. Hey, fuck it, I’m a cheapskate and I was blacking in and out.

Note: DO NOT DRINK IRRESPONSIBLY. DO NOT DRINK UNTIL YOU BLACK OUT. I have had drinks for many years and made far more mistakes than good memories.

She took her friend to Taco Bell and dropped her friend off while I was passing in and out of consciousness in the back seat of the truck. She forced me to get in the front seat before we continued on and drove me home. We got to my place and she turned off the keys.

“Uh…were you planning on coming inside?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“I’ve got to be up in four hours. I’m really drunk. I’m not in the mood, I dont think I could even perform. I should just-”
“It’ll only take a minute.”

She hopped out of the truck and walked up to the porch and I reluctantly let her inside. On the porch and in my room, I repeated that I wasn’t in the mood, that I was exhausted, that maybe another time. In my room, she pulled my pants down, pushed me onto the bed and began by taking me into her mouth.

At that point, I got it all done as fast as I could to get it over with and I rushed her out of my house. I went to sleep on the verge of tears.

Could I have physically stopped her? Yeah. Could I have been louder and caused a scene? Yes. But I was barely conscious drunk. I was afraid of being the belligerent one. My dad had been sent to prison for six months on a false count of rape before my stepmother admitted she was just pissed at him for something completely unrelated and filed a false claim. I was terrified that in my state of impairment I would hurt her.

The next morning, I texted her to tell her that nothing about the situation made me feel good. I felt pressured and taken advantage of and we should call things quits. And she felt terrible, apparently, and apologized profusely and took to Facebook to vaguely rant about how much of a piece of shit she was.

I felt awful about it. I’ve had many one night stands and some of them ended with me greeting the morning and thinking “probably shouldn’t have done that” or “not proud of that one”, but I own those. I had those experiences with purpose. Never had I ever felt so hurt and disgusted with myself as I did with this one.

I got drunk one night and texted my roommate to see if she was awake. She came downstairs to find me sitting on the floor with a bottle of rum in my hand and held me while I cried because I felt like a piece of shit. I told a guy friend about it, expecting him to make fun of me. He said, essentially, “If it was you taking a girl that drunk who wasn’t down for sex and manipulated them  into it, you would be in jail.”

I didn’t press charges. I don’t think it was intentional or meant maliciously. That doesn’t mean it was right. The lady has a kid, though, and I didn’t want to drag that kid through such a horrible experience when I’m a man and I should be able to write it off.

Because I’m a man.


Do you know how shitty it is to have to try and defend myself about this? To other men? To women? I told a female friend about this and her response, no shit, was “You have to stop putting yourself in these positions.” Can you fucking imagine telling a woman victim that? I would never.

I was so hesitant to tell anyone because I felt it made me look weak. I was trying to court a girl who knew the woman in question and I didn’t say shit because I didn’t want to ruin my chances. I didn’t want to… I don’t know.

I’m very pro-sexuality, pro-promiscuity, anti-slut shaming. I think sex is beautiful and fun when you’re being smart, safe and communicative. But that doesn’t mean you want to sleep with everybody and it doesn’t mean you’re always in the mood. You don’t expect that shit to happen to you.

I was beyond intoxicated. I said I wasn’t interested multiple times. I was coerced and pressured under the influence to let her into my house. Deep under the influence, I scared myself out of being more loudly vocal or violently physical in restraining her. She touched me, she had sex with me and she left. I felt sick. I still do. And I understand why more men don’t report it: image.  Reputation. Disbelief.

But I can’t anymore. I was raped. It wasn’t violent. I wasn’t in fear for my life. I wasn’t physically restrained or beaten or threatened, but I was definitely not in a capacity to properly help myself and I was taken advantage of.

I feel like shit about it, like I deserved it somehow for being a poor boyfriend in the past, or a shitty person in general. I don’t know. But I needed to get it out.

Male or female victims, know this: it is not your fault. It was never and will be never your fault or anything you did. You are beautiful and strong and braver than anyone who would transgress against you. There will always be someone there for you. I wish to God you never had to go through such vulnerability and violation.

You are loved.


2 thoughts on “I’m a Man Who Was Raped

  1. cristicreme says:

    Thank you for sharing this. You are such a strong person for allowing yourself to open up about an immensely traumatic life experience. I pray that one day you have some sort of peace about this.

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