December 8, 2025
Was this rape? I don’t know anymore. I met him organically, 2 weeks ago at a run club meet. A wide smiling lawyer who happened to be the same age as me. He had the most icy blue eyes. Eyes that swept me into it’s current and pulled me under. His gaze kept lingering on me and I decided to ask for his number. When we hugged goodbye he rubbed my back. “Weird,” I thought, but quickly brushed off the thought. One week later, we found ourselves on a date at a local bar. He was easy to talk to, seemed interested in getting to know me. Two drinks in he asks, “what’s your favorite bar near you.” I reply and he makes a motion to leave. Outside, he hands me his spare helmet, I hop on his vespa, and he drives me through the cold city streets. It felt like a movie. I remember thinking, could it really be this easy? Is this the end to my search?
I lean against him with hope and dreams of a future flashing in my mind. At bar #2 they had bingo night in full swing. We played a few games, drank a few more drinks, and made friends with the couple across the booth from us. Afterwards, he asks where I live and he drives me home. I mentioned earlier that night that I needed to prep my pot roast tonight in my crockpot and he slyly offered to help as we stood outside of my apartment.
Maybe it was the drinks, maybe it was his smooth smile, his friendly demeanor. The next thing I knew, he was chopping vegetables in my kitchen. This feels right, I thought. Once the food prep completed, he stood there with questions in his eyes. It was freezing outside, and late, and he came here on his vespa. The thought of the windchill he would have to endure riding back to his place was enough to send a shiver up my spine. “You can sleep over” I say, “but I don’t want to have sex.” He nods earnestly.
This was my mistake. Thinking he was a nice man. Thinking he respected me. Thinking these rules I’ve given him would be enough of a boundary to keep me safe. As we crawl into bed we cuddle. He feels nice. It’s been so long. I start to drift to sleep. I wake to the feeling of him grinding on me. Dry humping me from the side. What the fuck? I feel a wave of annoyance wash over me. Maybe if I don’t react he’ll stop. His hands start to wander. Grabbing my breasts over my pajama top. He starts to slip them under my top. I block him. WTF is wrong with this dude? I thought. I rarely drink, and I’m starting to feel the slop in my stomach lull me back to sleep. I try to not react, I hope he gets the message and stops.
He doesn’t stop. Before I know it he’s on top of me. Before I know it he’s inside of me. There’s no protection. There’s no care. He fucks like a jack rabbit. But I let him. Why didn’t I kick him out? Why didn’t I scream at him? Why did I let him do that? I tried to rationalize it in my head.
He cares about me. He sees potential in me. He wants me. This could be us forever? This could be my husband. It’s okay because I like him and this could lead to me and him being an “us”. Being a “forever”. Do I want love this badly? That I talk myself into delusions? That I rationalize the perversions of men? That I allow myself to get raped. I hate that he felt he could violate me. That he could rip apart the boundaries I’ve built to protect myself.
He went at me so many times I lost count. I’ve never met a man so horny. He would take short breaks and go at it again. When it finally ended I felt raw. It hurt. I went to the bathroom, peeing hurt. Some blood came out. Am I on my period or is this from him? I felt numb emotionally as I crawled into bed and went to sleep. He woke me with his dick pressed against my side. “I can’t”, I managed to say. Physically it hurt, I’ve never felt raw like this before. I can’t believe I let him do this to me. We cuddle and he makes fun of me for wanting to cuddle. I think I was trying to still rationalize what happened. Talk myself into thinking it was love and not some twisted perversion of his that I was satisfying.
I invited him to play pickleball that weekend. I wanted to be convinced that he cares, that my thoughts about that night were unwarranted. God, why am I so good at gaslighting myself. From the moment we greeted each other on the pickleball court something felt off. He wouldn’t look at me, he wouldn’t engage in conversations with any sort of curiosity. It felt like he didn’t want to be there. Used and thrown away. God I’ve never felt so shitty.
Four days later it still hurts. I know I’ll physically heal from this, but emotionally I feel ashamed and broken. I feel all the self doubts I thought I was able to conquer over these years flood back into my mind. “Unlovable, just an attractive body to use and abuse, not worthy of real love.”
I know that just because this is how life is now it doesn’t mean that this is how life will be forever. But sometimes it feels like it would be so much easier to stop trying because this seems so impossible. The more I try the more impossible it seems for me to get right. To feel real love, to be in love. I just don’t know if it will ever be something I’ll be able to unlock. And that thought crushes my soul.
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Honey to Bear 