A few years ago I had a guy best friend I had been friends with since first grade. My boyfriend, now husband, and I had been dating for four years and he left for boot camp so my first grade friend (let’s call him John) and I hung out a lot as I didn’t have any other friends. We would go to the gym a lot and out to eat and John would even hang out with my husband and I before he had left for boot camp so he knew I loved my husband deeply.
One day, about eleven weeks into my husbands boot camp (it’s thirteen weeks) John and I were about to go over to his house to cook a protein meal and then head to the gym. As soon as I shut the door to his house he grabbed me and started trying to kiss me. I told him no and yanked back and I was so shocked! He apologized and walked into the kitchen. Now here’s what was used against me - I didn’t leave. I didn’t leave because I was a very timid, anxious, shy person in high school. I didn’t have anyone else really so I just tried to brush it off. Plus, I didn’t drive and he took me to his house a different way the few times over the years that we had been so I didn’t know how to get home. Well, as time passed he came into me again, this time more aggressive. He shoved his hand down my leggings and tried to finger me and backed up but it was into a wall. He pinned me there and tried to kiss me again the whole time trying to get deeper in my leggings. I was turning my lips in my mouth so he couldn’t kiss them and trying to pull away. Finally I just tried to shove him, but he didn’t budge. I shoved as hard as I could but he’s a super buff person so it was like I was pinned between two walls. My heart started pounding and I got a lump in my throat and for the first time in my life I was actually scared of someone. I shouted no and he laughed and mocked me saying “no” back to me in a high voice. He pushed me down the hallway toward his bedroom and I tried to run around him to get to a door and he grabbed my arm and pulled me into his room. I was trying to pry his hand off my arm and I was smacking whatever I could reach over and over. He swung me onto his bed and jumped on top and I quicker and screamed and squirmed and it did nothing. I was clearly so much weaker than him and his parents weren’t gonna he home until midnight so no one was going to hear me for a while. He used one arm across my neck to hold me down and pulled my leggings down just a bit with the other and he pulled down his basketball shorts some. He already wasn’t wearing underwear?? I could feel my heartbeat over my entire body and I tried to squeeze my legs together but he had put his knee down on the bed between my legs and started to shove himself inside of me. I was so horrified I went completely limp. I just laid there, not moving at all or trying to fight because it was hopeless. Tears ran down my face but I couldn’t hear myself crying. I just heard him breathing heavily in my left ear. I didn’t move until he was done. I wasn’t thinking anything, my mind was just empty. When he decided when he was done was when he gave up. He didn’t “finish” he just gave up trying. He left the room in anger and I sat up so slowly. My throat was coarse and dry from shouting and my hair a matted mess from squirming against the bed. I was breathing so shallow. I believe sex is a very sacred thing, and it took two and a half years of dating before I shared it with my husband. It was very special to me and he just took it. I sobbed as I pulled my leggings back up. I didn’t say a word. I just walked toward the door to leave and he stopped me. He pulled me into the bathroom and told me to clean up my face, so I did and then he pushed me into his car and drove me home. It had to have been hours because it was day when I got to his home but 10pm when we finally left his house. My parents knew he was supposed to bring home so they suspected nothing. I showered for four hours that night and it still felt like it wasn’t long enough.
I told them and they didn’t believe me. John told people at school that we had sex. I tried to share my story but very few people believed me. I had been sexually active with my boyfriend at the time and a lot them said things like “she just wanted to have sex since her boyfriends been gone so long.” I even went to the police but since there were no bruises or “evidence” of fighting back and I didn’t go in enough time for them to get bodily evidence it wasn’t considered a real case or one worth fighting for.
I feel sick typing this. I have nightmares about it all the time. My husband knows what happened, but he doesn’t know the story. Since I have nightmares about it so much and wake him up a lot, I want to share it with him. But I’m afraid. I know bringing it up makes his heart ache for me, and if I talk about it I feel sick. But at the same time I almost feel like if I can talk about it with him I might be able to let it go. I just want peace. I’m so tired of the graphic nightmares that pop back into my head every few weeks. I feel horrible waking my husband up or being woken up by him and crying for hours, sometimes until the sun creeps up into our bedroom. He’s the best about it though. He starts showers for me and sits in the bathroom while I shower and cry. Sometimes he gets in with me just to hold me. I love him so deeply and all that he does for me. I want to make peace with this and let it go, but I don’t know how. My husband deserves so much more than this.