I still hear the little voice in my head questioning it. He was a good guy and just as drunk as I was. He probably didn’t notice that I blacked out. I was angry. He apologized. It’s ok. I’m just as much to blame. We were in college. We dated. I broke up with him. He just wanted to get back together. I broke his heart. I was the asshole. We’re still friends. That’s so cool. It wasn’t a big deal. It was a mistake. I got an abortion. I made him pay for it. That was payback. That was fucked up of me. I’m a terrible person. It’s my fault. I should have left early. I should’ve brought a friend. I should not have drank so much. I was so stupid. I should have said no before blacking out. Did I want to? I don’t think so, but maybe I did. I can’t remember. It was so long ago. It doesn’t matter. I’m fine. It’s probably happened to everyone. My friends have experienced so much worse. I have a family. He has a family. Should I still be friends with him? Am I weak? Am I strong? Am I ok? Did he really do anything wrong? Why do I still feel bad? Should I feel bad? My mom liked him. He loved me. He was abused as a child. He was the real victim. He didn’t know any better. It was complicated. Why don’t I talk about it? Am I just jumping on a bandwagon? He was feeding me beers when I wanted to go. He begged me to stay. He was trying to get me drunk. I couldn’t drive home. I trusted that I’d be safe with him.
Was it really rape?
— Survivor, age 35