I texted Trey a week later. Because you see in my trauma induced mental illness ridden mind I thought if I had sex with Trey, Daniel’s best friend, Daniel could feel the pain I felt. Like you were nothing to the person you loved, nothing but a blowjob, less than a hat, meaningless, garbage. I wanted him to hurt and I had seen this work.
But the night that Trey came over I changed my mind. I wouldn’t let him in.
We were talking through the window we’ll have to try another night I said trying to get him to give up. But thats when he started popping out the screen in my window as I begged him not too. He crawled into my window as I begged him not to. He stroked my thigh as I huddled in a ball in the corner of my bed. A tear I don’t think he saw ran down my cheek and I couldn’t stop thinking about Daniel. Trey kissed me and pushed me down and I laid there as he kept pushing semi-flaccidly into me, it hurt, it didn’t feel good, I hated how he smelled, I hated him being there. I was relieved when he gave up. The next day I pushed aside those feelings of violation. I had begged him not to come in. But he did. I had curled up and tried to hide my body. But he touched me anyways. I didn’t want to wake up my mom so it just happened again. I just laid there and it had just happened again. I hated myself and I pushed it aside.
I mean can we just talk about consent here for a second. It is obvious when someone wants to have sex and unless someone wants to have sex it should not be happening. I should not have to scream and fight a guy off for him to know I do not want this. With Will that “no” when he asked should have been enough. With Trey me pulling away, not responding, and initially begging him to go away and not come into my house should have been enough. Enthusiastic consent, a clear “um yes please” is consent, a girl trying to cover herself up and curling up in the corner of the bed, not so much.
The next time Trey wasn’t forceful or pushy. He was kind of nice. And for some reason that insanely unhealthy relationship lasted, for a while on and off. But we never ever got close.
Because when I was 16 he tried to forcibly rape me.
He showed up at my door. His arm pressing against it when I opened it. We started playing who can push the door more as I told him to go away. He argued. I argued. He shoved his way in. I told him to leave. He shoved me on the air mattress set up in the dining room for my grandma. He got on top of me kissing me, I said no.
In fact, I said many things as he flipped me over on my stomach, held me down, started pulling my shorts down, tearing and pawing at my clothes, kissing me, I fought back but he was a football player, and a wrestler. I couldn’t get away. I remember hitting him with my fists. I remember tears. I said “No Trey,” I said, “No really Trey,” I said, “Stop it” and I’m not fucking joking but I literally quoted anti-rape shit like “No means No Trey.” He didn’t let up and then I threatened him with the cops I said “when you’re done I’m calling the cops” and he finally stopped and left. I locked the door behind him and collapsed. Collapsed mentally, physically, emotionally… when I realized what time it was a while later I got up, pulled myself together, and put on a smile. My family would be home soon.
Trey and I didn’t speak for a while and we never talked about it again till I was 18. We even had sex after that. It was as if we both knew what had happened but you don’t talk about it. You don’t want to believe it happened. You ignore it set it aside because when you say the word RAPE to a guy all hell breaks lose.
At some point we “dated.” “Dated” as in I went along with him suddenly wanting to pretend things were serious because it changed nothing but the things he said when he texted me. I remember once he said he was going into “pre-med” so “we” could have a good future together. He wanted to be a DOCTOR for ME. I just rolled my eyes and went on with my life, I knew it meant nothing.
I told him when I was 18 that we had to talk about it. That he couldn’t be doing that to girls. That we had to talk about that it was wrong. See I got caught up in rape culture rhetoric. I figured Trey just got caught up. Couldn’t hear me. So I wanted him to know that it was wrong. That he couldn’t do that again. I wanted to protect other girls. And the conversation actually went well. I prefaced it with I wouldn’t report him we just needed to talk about it. He admitted it. We talked about it. It was almost nice. I felt better about what had happened when he admitted it, apologized for it, said he’d never do it again, he wished he’d never done it. He knew what it was. I felt safe. It still hurt I still had nightmares but I forgave Trey and the horrible memory of the first time became blurrier and easier to dismiss.
But then Trey messaged me years later when I was married, the year I was being raped in my sleep by my neighbor across the hall. I was already fragile. My PTSD was more out of control than usual because I was experiencing this trauma and thinking it was just my PTSD night terrors. Trey asked if I was still married and if I wanted to hook up, he even asked where I lived.
I became livid. How could you ask me that? How dare you?! First of all my goddamn profile picture on fb messenger is me and my husband. Second, how dare you ask that? I would never be with you again. We can’t ever have a sexual relationship again. It wouldn’t be healthy.
Trey lashed out. He pretended he had no idea what I was talking about. I reminded him he had admitted it, we had discussed it at length, and he excused himself… he was just being “aggressive” that day. He made excuses he was cruel. And that was when I realized he was just like Will. Because you see you should never be AGGRESSIVE. AGGRESSIVE is RAPE. Trevor and I experiment with BDSM a lot and he is NEVER AGGRESSIVE.
BECAUSE REAL AGGRESSION HAS NO PLACE IN SEX.
Months after Trey messaged me at 22 Daniel and I talked again for the first time in years, I told him what had happened with Trey. He reacted with the usual I’d beat him up, fuck him, that’s awful. He even told me he wasn’t entirely surprised because Trey had done the same thing, the nearly exact same thing, to their friend at a party. Daniel had interrupted him, the friend had clearly been protesting. It dawned on me again, Trey was exactly like Will right down to hurting other girls.
Still, even after siding with me, telling me what Trey had done to their friend, even after calling Trey a rapist in front of people who knew Trey, Daniel still defended him when Trey came to town and he was feeling guilty for hanging out with him.
People don’t like to admit that someone they knew, someone they liked, someone they even loved would be capable of treating people like that consistently. People don’t get that those people save up their abuse for the people they are abusing. They don’t get that someone can seem like a model citizen and friend and then be raping women. It doesn’t change anything if they do not believe the girl or for the girl to just go away so you can forget your friend did that to her. They defend them because if they admitted who that person was they could no longer justify their relationship with him.
They defend him because its easier for them. It is entirely selfish, it is entirely delusional, and it does not reflect on whether they even believe you or not. They just do not want their lives to change because of something that happened to other people.
Unfortunately for us survivors we have no choice in that. Our lives changed, forever and we had no choice in it.