Me too

Trigger warning: sexual assault, abuse mention.

Me too.

I always feel like a liar when I say that, because I have been far more traumatized by my childhood than by anything sexual. I feel like a liar because I could have and should have done something to prevent what happened to me. I feel like a liar because it wasn't even that bad. I feel like a liar because it happened so fast and I don't know if I'm really remembering it right and because after it happened I joked about it with virtual strangers who I only know online. I feel like a liar because I've never confronted them about it, never said "this was not okay and here's why," and I feel like I'm doing their future partners a disservice, and the guilt builds up until it's made a whole new wall between me and the outside world, one more wall that I'd have to let down if I ever let myself fall in love again.

My assault was not violent, nor was it the reason I broke up with them. My assault did not give me nightmares, nor did it feel like a violation. It felt uncomfortable. I hadn't given them a list of my boundaries, and I blame myself for not having done that, for not having told them to stop, for not having told them at any point that I was uncomfortable. When I told them, afterwards, that it was the first time that anyone had done what they did, they said, "Oh, I didn't know." They may have apologized, I'm not sure; if they did, I definitely reassured them that it was fine, even though it wasn't, because they didn't ask before touching me there, because on my hands and knees on my bed that December night, with their clothes still on and my heartbeat nowhere to be heard, I didn't feel like my body was mine.

Even though I was dissociating for most of it, I remember how their fingers and tongue felt. It didn't hurt, exactly, it just felt unsafe. Now that I've had a few months to think about it, I think that night was when I knew I would never be in love with them. About a week later, when I was breaking up with them, I was too scared to tell them, "I don't trust you to respect the rules I set for my body," because I was alone with them and I've been hit by someone for less. I don't even think I knew how to word it at that point. I was too busy pushing the memory away.

They’re not in my life anymore; we've both done our share of pushing each other away, not that we were clamoring to be in each other's lives after the breakup. They’re not a bad person. I just don't think they have any idea that not asking before doing anything is a violation of consent. Maybe I'm being too sensitive. I should have told them to stop. But I'm not used to having power in my relationships. I can't just tell them to stop hurting me. I have to ask, nicely, and after a while of asking nicely it becomes easier to say nothing rather than to spend the energy it takes to frame my thoughts in a way that won't make them snap.

I don't want them to be demonized and ostracized and publicly called out. I want to be listened to. I want people who have been in my situation to know that you are not alone. I don't want to be told how you feel about my assault. I want to be asked how I feel.