I Thought We Were Friends — Then He Raped Me
He betrayed my trust, violated it, and entered me without authorization.
I suppose he was the kind of guy that women swoon over that is, a hopelessly romantic, charming, tall, attractive, in touch with his emotions and spontaneous. To me, it all felt contrived, rehearsed, and I wasn’t feeling it.
However, I enjoyed his company, we had a myriad of common interests, and he challenged me mentally. So, I engaged, yet he wasn’t enough to make me give up my singledom.
There were moments, though, when we bickered, and it felt as if he was more in competition with me like our shared interest in writing. I wrote fiction, and he wrote poetry, but often, he felt the need to make comparisons that were not necessary.
In the beginning, he expressed his interest, and I skirted around them, pushing him into the dreaded friend zone. He dated other people, so did I, and when we saw each other at events, he would often leave his companion to engulf me in a hug that communicated to them that there was more than friendship happening between us.
Whenever we hung out, he would throw his flowery poetry at me, and I’d laugh and brush his sentiment off with an off-hand joke. We never defined what we were or weren’t, and I felt my aloofness spoke…
