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  • Rape Me
    Emily Bell
    16 Apr 2006


    It was my first vacation without my parents. My best friend and I planned to have the time of our lives. Two weeks, two thousand dollars each and no worries about food or shelter, how could it not have been the vacation of our dreams?

    We arrived in Montreal after a stopover in Toronto, exhausted and hot but buzzing with excitement. We spent our time trying to find a place to take a picture then finding our connecting flight to finally arrive in Montreal. First thing we did was visit relatives then spent money at countless shopping centers. About a week or more into our trip we made plans to stay a night at a friend's house (no blood relation but an old friend of the family) we met up in the subway tunnel and she walked us to her apartment a few blocks away. We ate supper, went to a pub and had a few drinks. On our way home we picked up some beer and brought it home with us. As we arrived home the three of us surprised her roommate in the middle of his exercise regime. Half-dressed and doing chin-ups in the bathroom door he was definably a sight for drunken eyes.
    We introduced ourselves and went to sit on the balcony as not to bother his routine, or embarrass him with our incessant gawking. I could tell both my friend and I were instantly attracted to this man, we both started asking questions.
    It turned out he was only there temporarily, a friend of the other permanent tenant who was on vacation. He was just renting the room to keep the rent check filled and allow him a warm bed to crash on until he moved into his own place.

    We were still intrigued.

    After his workout he came outside to join us, cracked open a beer and everyone got a little better acquainted.
    After a few hours everyone started getting chilly and quite so we decided to call it a night. We went inside, collected blankets for my friend and I to sleep on/with and soon after our hostess retired to her room. An awkward silence sexual tension filled the room. Flustered the male Adonis retreated to his room and we crawled under our respective blankets. Minutes after our heads hit the pillow my friend and I met eyes and knowing the same thought was flowing through our minds the giggling ensued.
    My friend and I only waited about 20 minutes but it was long enough to know our hostess, who had warned us against exactly what we were planning to do, was asleep but our other new friend was awake enough to accept visitors. We tiptoed to his door and gently knocked. To our surprise, and delight, he was still very much awake; in fact he was talking on the phone. Young, naive, and anxious we seductively walked over to him, pulled off his shirt, and started kissing him all over, all without interrupting his conversation. It was a game, to see how much we could do before he started to show it in his voice... which wasn't long.

    We were proud, to be able to turn him on so quickly (we were so young we had yet to realize how easy it is to turn a man on). He hung-up and we started kissing. We were “innocent” and used it. We both told him "no sex" we were virgins. We just wanted to make out. With all the body parts and the grinding it became hard to keep track of everything... but with a pinch (our code for "I've had enough) we both knew it was time to go to bed.
    We said our goodnights and crept back to our beds, just like that. Half whispering and half giggling we began to recap what had just happened. I began to get excited again, I began to want more. All my friend could talk about was how she missed her ex-boyfriend and couldn't wait to get home and give him a call. All I could think about was how much he wanted me and how much I wanted to be wanted...
    I told my friend I wanted to go back. She didn't want to join me, she'd realized how hung up on her ex she still was.
    I tiptoed back to his room and knocked on his door. I used the line "I'm lonely" which must have worked wonders because he leapt out of bed, picked me up and threw me down beside him. I was taken aback; he'd seemed so timid when it was the three of us, I couldn't figure out why he'd changed. I told him again, "no sex", he said he was okay with that. It seemed all he wanted to do; all I wanted him to do was to touch me. We kissed, caressed, we sucked, we licked... I got tired and cold, he had no blankets on his bed and I was naked. I told him we should stop, it was getting early and both of us had to be awake in a few hours. I got up and started for the door, but stopped when I'd realized I'd forgotten my bra and my glasses. I stood in blurry darkness as he came to the door where I was standing and started kissing me again. I thought he just hadn't gotten the message so I tried to push him off but he couldn't be moved. I pulled away from his kiss and told him I needed to go, all he could say was he wanted me to stay. I started to get scared, I didn’t like the way he was holding me. I thought to call out but something stopped me; my fear? My guilt? All I know is it wasn’t my enjoyment. He pushed me back onto his bed, pinning me down with the weight of his body, I started feeling claustrophobic. I half expected him to stop, to pull away, but he didn't. He slid his hands up my body, lifting my arms over my head and held them down. He spread my legs open with his knees and weighted them down with his legs. I was trapped. I kept repeating, "No, I should go, no sex." I didn't struggle, I couldn't struggle, I was paralyzed, and he just kept going. He had sex with me. It wasn't violent but every moment of it I felt sick, I felt ashamed, I felt confused + disguised ... but mostly at myself.

    Afterwards, he acted as if nothing happened. He went to the washroom, I lay there stunned and in pain. I began to cry. My best friend came to the door and helped me get dressed, we went out and sat on the stairs in front of the apartment building where we were staying.
    I told her what happened.
    She told me how she was just in their consoling our hostess because she'd gotten up to go to the washroom and noticed me gone. We talked for a bit until our hostess came down the stairs and said in a cold yet inviting tone that she was going for a walk and we were welcome to come if we so chose. We got up and followed her to a coffee shop, meanwhile thinking how my bra and glasses were still lost in his room.

    Walking around urban Montreal, near blind, tired, upset, in pain, and generally not well. Not knowing what had actually happened my hostess talked about how she'd lost her virginity in the exact same way I just had and it had fucked her up, she didn't want the same for me. She asked me how far we'd gone.
    I froze.
    My mind froze.
    "She's going to blame herself" I thought, she was, she didn't even know how far it'd gone but she was already scorning herself for introducing us.
    I began denying it. Telling her we'd fooled around but nothing serious happened, a drunken mistake.
    I don't know why I said it. I wasn't trying to defend him; I was trying to defend myself. I felt it was my fault; I’d put myself in such a stupid and dangerous position, for not fighting back, for not yelling out for help... I'd let him get away with rape.
    At the time that's not what I thought it was though, I thought I was over-reacting, I thought I'd deserved it.

    Or the rest of high school and afterwards I still acted like a confidant, sexual, party girl, I still do, and I can be, until the memory comes back and I feel like that stupid, angry, helpless girl again. I never had anything more than one-night stands; I couldn't even comprehend the idea of involving feelings.
    Eventually I graduated and moved on with my life, working and continuing my education, gradually got over my depressing denial and fell in love. More importantly, I found out that sex could be more than just fucking... though I'm still working on it.

    Writing this, sharing this, showing you my deep dark secret has many meanings to me. I hope you'll take my story in stride and think about who or why you're having sex with someone. I hope to alleviate my conscience by sharing, showing what I'm hiding... though I still am. Emotions are a touchy thing, and if all isn't right than it can get dangerous.

    The names were of little importance; I didn't want this to be gossip, just a bad memory.