I was in Bangkok with my boyfriend, we were sitting outside a bar with some people we’d just met. After a few drinks I went upstairs to the toilet, and when I came out a guy stopped me and started talking to me. I recognized him as the person who had just proposed to his girlfriend at the table next to us. I congratulated him. He acted as though he didn’t know what I was talking about, saying that wasn’t him.
He asked if he could kiss me, and if there was somewhere private we could go. I told him no. He grabbed my hand and took me into the mens toilets.
I’d completely frozen up, my mind couldn’t seem to keep up with what was happening. I was standing in a cubicle, looking through the crack in the door. I saw him pay one man to leave.
His hands were all over me, I just wanted to leave and be sick. The second I felt him let go I ran out.
When I got back to our table I asked to speak to my boyfriend in private. I told him pretty bluntly, and I could see the realization of what had just happened dawning on his face. He started yelling, demanding to know who it was. I felt strangely calm, numb with shock I guess. I refused to tell him, I knew he’d start a fight and I didn’t want him getting hurt. We argued for about ten minutes before I broke down and he took me back. He held me in the taxi as I sobbed my heart out. I’ve never cried so much in my life.
Three weeks later, and I’m back home in England, and I have no idea what to do with myself. Whenever I think about it, it makes me want to cry my eyes out, and then anger builds up to the point where I just want to throw and break everything. But I don’t, I keep holding it all in because I don’t know how to let all my emotions out. And I feel weak crying about it, I feel like it shouldn’t matter, that I should just move on and forget about it. I feel mostly angry at myself, that I did nothing to stop what was happening. I also feel angry that no one else seems to understand how I feel, how degrading it is.
Everyone keeps using the word rape and telling me it’s not my fault. But no matter how I look at it, all I see is that if I had just done something to protest, it wouldn’t have happened.
My two best friends don’t seem to care, and my boyfriend doesn’t know how to cope with it. I feel like I have to look after everyone else, help them get through it. All I want to do is have a breakdown in private, where I can shout and punch walls without anyone hearing or seeing me. I don’t want them to see me cry or losing it, because I have to stay strong for them. And I’m sick of it.