I Was Never Raped, but I Could Have Been
Danna Colman

I agree with Sarah and Ana. I have been in the same situation. When invited to an after hours party, I accepted the invitation and ride as I didn’t want to drive under the influence. The party involved pushing me down and then the guy (a professional soccer player for the U.S.) tried to force his penis in my mouth. I said “no” repeatedly and turned my head, becoming more and more angry. I then told him to go ahead and shove his dick in my mouth and I’d gladly bite it off or wound him so that he would require surgical intervention to ever try this on anyone else. I had to repeat this threat several times as I fought to get up. I finally was “allowed” up.

I left that room and went to where his “partner in crime” was sitting and demanded to be driven back to my car. And was.

The thing that bothered me was that the friend was sitting outside the room I was in. I was not quiet, it was clear I was not having a good time. He did nothing to help. Maybe he was waiting for his turn. Until recently, some 30 odd years later, I never really considered this rape, only an unfortunate incident. But as I have gotten my shit together, I realize that even though this guy never got off, I experienced what every other person who has experienced rape has. That I am a survivor and a fighter doesn’t mean I am not effected. Does not mean I don’t experience PTSD symptoms when I am involved in power exchange situations, especially with red-necked, macho men.

Another thing that bothers me is that my current partner seems to feel that I “asked for it.” I was drunk and accepted an invitation and a ride with a man that I had had a pleasant evening with up to that point. I actually wasn’t even looking for company. I was waiting for a friend who was going to meet me at the bar as soon as he finished his shift report at the hospital where we both worked. He never showed. I waited a while thinking he might have had to deal with an emergency. He did. He had a heart attack as he was leaving and ended up in CCU and could not even tell anyone to call me.

Funny, 30 odd years later and my attitude about that offence has changed, but not so men’s.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.