When Sex Is A Weapon: Surviving Date Rape
Her rapist is dead, but new revelations about his life re-open a victim's wounds.
I just found out that my rapist is dead. Not only is he dead, but he ended up killing a lot of women. I always wondered if he would rape again, but I never thought he would graduate to murder.
I was 15 when I met him. It was at a friend's birthday party, and he was from another school, a friend of a friend or a cousin of a friend. We played ping-pong and pool, and he said he liked that I was not one of those girls who sat and watched the boys play, hoping to be noticed.
He was tall and strong looking, handsome and clean cut with a quick wit and ready smile. He was the kind of guy that never, ever noticed me. When he entered the room, everyone—girls and boys alike—turned to look him over.
I was outgoing, independent, athletic and a good student—traits not valued by the boys in my high school. I never had a boyfriend and was used to guys approaching me only to ask about my friends, who were beautiful, knew how to act just-not-smart-enough and had boys calling them all the time. I and everyone else at the party was surprised when he picked me to talk to, to laugh with, to charm. When he asked me for my phone number, I never expected him to call.
We went on three dates—the first to the movies, where we were surrounded by several of our friends. The second was to my house, where he met my family and watched football with my father. It was a few days before Christmas, and we exchanged gifts in my parents' kitchen. I gave him a red and white wool button-down shirt and a cassette tape of a band he said he liked. He gave me a beautiful gold chain-link bracelet that he placed on my wrist, his big hands deftly working the delicate clasp.
On our third date, we went to his cousin's house where I was supposed to meet his parents and aunt and uncle, but when we got there, no one was home. He wore the shirt I gave him for Christmas and, instead of introducing me to his family, he raped me.
To tell or not to tell? You ask yourself this even when you are just a kid, in shock, looking at the outside of your own house like you've never seen it before, feeling ashamed, sick and dirty. I had nothing to compare it to, so I had no idea what my parents would do. Would they call the police? Would he go to jail? Would my father try to hurt him? Could I be pregnant? Would everyone at school find out? How could I go in there when everything had changed?
I stood perfectly still while snowflakes fell around me, making it seem even quieter than it really was. My father opened the door before I could move, and I immediately noticed that he looked sad. Did he already know? My mother looked like she had been crying too, and so did my sisters. How could they possibly know? But within seconds I realized that they knew of a different tragedy. While I was out being raped, my grandfather had died.
My grandfather's death and his wake and funeral provided the perfect cover for my tortured emotions. It was my secret shame that I cried for myself and not for him. My inability to sleep or eat and my unwillingness to talk to my friends or go out seemed normal under the circumstances. Most importantly, my parents let me stay home from school for days.
Discussion
This article so closely mirrored my own experience that I thought it was actually the same guy, for awhile.
Like Heatherer, I would encourage the author to at least consider telling her husband, for all the reasons that she mentioned. It took a few years before I was comfortable enough to confide in my husband, and was met with understanding and relief. Also, I was surprised to learn that my husband already "knew" on some level, and that he had been extra patient, extra gentle, etc. because he could "tell" what had happened to me.
When I look back at my teen years, I am shocked I was never assaulted. I wasn't promiscuous but I was trusting.
Anyway, I am glad you overcame such a horrible experience. But I am shocked you never told your husband you were raped.
While that can be inferred from Omayra's comment, I really don't believe that is where she was going with it. I'm willing to bet its widely "believed" that promiscuous women have a higher chance of being raped, but I haven't researched the numbers and really kinda doubt it.
Omayra was saying she was suprised SHE wasn't raped because she was overly trusting, which could mean any number of things but that her trusting nature could have opened up more of a possibility of HER being raped.
The whole article I felt this horrible understanding.
And then I hit the end, where you said "I could not tell this dear, gentle man that my first boyfriend was also my rapist, that my first sexual experience was one of violence," and I just cried.
I don't know if you've ever told anyone close to you what happened, but you should. All of my friends and family know to some degree that I was assaulted. And the relief at not having to hide it, and knowing that if I freak out about anything they'll understand why has erased a lot of the shame that I used to feel. I don't ever have to feel like I'm carrying this huge secret around anymore, and that's a big relief.
I just think it's something you should consider.
I know what happened to you is awful and I can't imagine the pain it caused you, but I don't understand why you didn't tell anyone. I can see how when it's happening or soon after you might be in shock, but you could have helped stop him from doing that to other people. Women need to realize that they have countless resources out there to help them and that they are not any safer for not getting them in trouble.
Perhaps she pushed the memory down and avoided thinking about it because it was too painful. Or perhaps she was afraid of what people would say about her if she spoke up later.
Her reason doesn't matter, though, we shouldn't blame victims for what criminals do. Victims should not be expected to be super-heroes who defeat the bad guy. Just surviving themselves is hard enough. If they can do more, they are amazing.
It's so sad that a thing like that happened and done by the person you trusted while being so young and innocent. As brown eyez says you were lucky that he was not more violent besides the ordeal of rape, Also that your ordeal was before he got infected As I see it has affected you profoundly as it should be . With the kind of death he had in my vengeful self I think that he got what he looked for. Is a terrible death but he did a terrible thing to you that brought you a lot of suffering. Is good that he's gone and can't hurt you or others anymore.
you were very lucky...he could have done a lot worse to you...it just makes you wonder what kind of a sick world we're living in :(
What a horrible thing to have happen to you with your first boyfriend. It leaves me breathless to know how lucky I was in my first...I can't imagine anything more hateful than believing someone is making us a rape charge just off the cuff.
