In 1978

In 1978 when I was 21, I dated a foreign young man from the Middle East for about a year. During that time we did have sex and I ignored the fact that he made disparging remarks about the fact that I was willing to have pre-marital sex. Eventually we broke up due to this and other cultural differences. Shortly after our breakup, I met with him during the day in his van. He drove us to a secluded place to “talk” about our ended relationship (not get back together). That is when he over-powered me and raped me while I was crying, trying to fight him off and suffering.

I later told my girlfriends but never the police or my parents, especially, because it would have crushed my mother to know this (she likely would have had too much sympathy for me). I also didn’t even consider contacting authorities/police because I knew him and there were no witnesses or evidence of physical violence (there may have been bruises). For years I told myself that he was a creep etc. and I had the support of women friends in that regard. However, I also minimized the incident and I think I still do somehow. Looking back, I did have a lack of sexual pleasure with all subsequent boyfriends until about five years post-rape when I met a wonderful man. My marriage too was good as far as sex goes but I occasionally would feel resentful at my husband politely insisting on sex when I wasn’t in the mood. I still have no clear idea how much the rape affected my relationships with men.

***What bothers me most as an older woman now is that this man is raising a son!*** THAT is the worst part about it. Another “entitled” chauvinist (worse) in our supposedly enlighten, modern society. It makes me sick actually.