1980 —

He invited me to his dorm room to look at pictures. It wasn’t a date. I barely knew him. I was never raped, but because I told him “no” to sex, (we’d never even kissed) he shoved me against the wall, tightened his grip around my throat, and threatened to beat me if I ever hurt him. All I could do was pray for a way out, pray that I would at least come out alive.

I lied and told him in a raspy voice (he was squeezing my trachea) that I needed to get my birth control (non existent) out of my car. He stood in the doorway watching, but I was able to get in, lock the doors, and start the car before he realized I was running.

I didn’t report it. He was a frat boy attending an expensive school and I knew I would be blamed and shamed and shunned. After that I watched my back and didn’t socialize much. The boogeyman was no longer a character from a B-movie; he was a cute guy that invited me to his dorm room to look at pictures.