Before Date Rape
Was there date rape?
Returning from Good Friday mass just a college freshman pale skin buzzing with a Hell-saving liturgy meant to irradiate insight into my soul. Tales refracted through pretty stained glass windows where light conquered darkness and goodness conquered sin.* Passion Sunday and virginal me were just an
Afterthought to Friday night escapades soon to begin. The culmination of daily flirting with Arian race-like ROTC dorm kitchen coworker, I trekked up to his room. On a whim? Really don’t remember. Like being at summer camp for the first time
this first time wine cooler just downed, or was it a Zima? Nimbly I climbed to his top bunk giggling, kissing as Sister Christian by Night Ranger hummed in the hallways, or was it Duran Duran’s Union of the Snake? Some clothes tossed to the floor mini skirt remained on
Panties as well. Enter — fingers — his — a trenchant weapon, probing raw before playing his game of bait-and-switch. A muffled “no” escaped my trembling lips. I climbed down the bunk, crimson liquid running down my inner thighs, and left in
Embarrassment that I had sullied his pristine white sheets, but not anger. Oh, no not anger. Fast forward to the next fall semester. In the Quad, met a college athlete named Nate, a sprinter. I was smitten. Picking me up on our first date, he…
