I have a story to tell. It's a story we've heard before. Different day, different details, but one we've all heard. My story isn't remarkable. It should be, but it's not. No, what's remarkable about my story is that I truly, honestly didn't realize it was worth telling. It didn't even occur to me.
I was in college and I had just a treasure trove of wonderful friends that I adored. I look back on those years as being overly dramatic and lots of fun. I knew exactly zero people when I arrived at my college (and that town) so I made all my friendships from the ground up, instead of having a high school history to lean on.
In those days, everyone had a roommate so when you made a new friend, you likely became friends (or at least acquaintances) with your friend's roommates. One of my friends had a roommate he'd known for a long time. I'm going to call him Mike.
Because that's his fucking name.
I liked Mike right away. He was funny, kind of shy, but also a smart ass. He was handy so he came over to my place to help me put together my futon, which was my only furniture at the time other than my tv placed on an upside-down Rubbermade tub and my twin mattress on the floor. We listened to music as he tinkered with the futon and we had a good getting-to-know-you conversation. What a nice guy.
Until later when he tried to force himself on me.
Twice.
Now, I feel I can make a prediction here and say he would insist that he never tried to force himself on me twice. I'll let you be the judge.
I was in the back seat of a car, alone. I don't remember what I was doing, but I must have been looking for something in my purse or the like. Suddenly, Mike jumped in the other side of the back seat and started rapidly talking about how he was sure he could make me orgasm if I just gave him a chance he was sure he could do it and it wouldn't take long and I'll enjoy it just let him do it just let him do it sshh sshh sshh no no don't freak out it will be fine just let him do it.
I did not let him do it. I jumped out my side of the car and got out of there.
I don't remember if I told anyone about this at the time.
The second incident came at a Halloween party I was throwing at my apartment. The party was at its tail end and there were a few stragglers in the kitchen. I was on the opposite side of the apartment when Mike approached me. He backed me up against the door in my foyer, putting his forearm across my collarbone, and simultaneously trying to get his hand up my dress, again saying how he was sure he could make me orgasm if I just gave him a chance he was sure he could do it and it wouldn't take long and I'll enjoy it just let him do it just let him do it sshh sshh sshh no no don't freak out it will be fine just let him do it.
I was saying NO. NO. NO. when another friend came around the corner and Mike jumped back like my pussy had caught fire.
Now, this incident scared me, but I was also furious. I told many people about this, many times. I asked their opinion what they would do. I told his roommate, whom I considered a great friend. I assumed his roommate would be incensed. He wasn't. I assumed my friends would shun Mike and support me. They didn't. I assumed people wouldn't totally ignore this situation.
They did.
My friends still included Mike in all their invitations, they still dated him (seriously), and called him their friend. When I started dating one of Mike's friends and told him what happened, he defended Mike. So I quickly realized this was on ME. If I wanted to keep my "friends," the burden was going to be on me to keep the peace and smooth this situation out and figure out how I was going to handle keeping this motherfucker in my life.
I was on my own.
Some years later, Mike rode a charity bike race in honor of one of my closest girlfriends. I knew this because our mutual friends had forwarded his email, asking for donations.
Here's where it gets really fucked up.
I donated to his ride. I was super broke at the time so I opted not to show my donation amount because it was so embarrassing, but I remember making the decision to not make my donation anonymous and to show my name.
And I remember why I did this. When I looked back on everything that happened, I felt incredible embarrassment, the kind that makes your eyelids fly open at 2:00am whenever it pops in your head. If my friends, the most important people in my life other than my family, thought that what had happened wasn't worth acknowledging, than why was I freaking out about it? Nothing really happened, right? I wasn't bruised, bleeding, and it had stopped before Mike could really get anywhere.
When I donated to his bike ride, I put my name on the donation roster because I wanted Mike and my friends to know that I had gotten over it and moved on and we're all friends now.
Oh my God. How seriously fucked up is that.
It gets worse.
This happened in......1999? 2000? Well, it's 2018 now and we've been talking about sexual harassment and sexual predators for a while now. Oprah brought down the house on last night's Golden Globes with her amazing "Time's up" speech. Women have been tweeting "Me too" stories for months. It has been on my mind as it's been on yours.
And yet, through all of this, I didn't consider this a Me Too story because Mike, my friends, the world, and I had so thoroughly convinced myself that this incident meant nothing. These attacks were so buried, I hadn't even told my husband or my best friend about them because I assumed they wouldn't support me. Why would I think otherwise?
I am so thankful for this movement or else I may have gone to my grave thinking that I am the one who should be embarrassed. This jolt of reality shook me to the core and gave me a healthy dose of humility because I've always thought of myself as strong. I thought my years of being bullied had given me a great sense of when I was being taken advantage of. I was literally slack-jawed when I realized that I had so thoroughly buried these attacks that I didn't even consider them attacks.
For a long time I've been telling the world and myself that I'm embarrassed about this and I'm sorry that I involved other people in my drama.
I'd like to change that statement:
I am not embarrassed or ashamed about what happened. I thoroughly blame Mike for this and Mike alone. I do not blame my tight black dress at my Halloween party anymore. I don't blame myself for not telling the world about the first incident. I don't blame the alcohol, the "times," or the party atmosphere. I'm giving my friends some slack because like me, they were young and didn't know how to handle the situation. However, I feel like I can now be angry at them for not supporting me and continuing to put me in harm's way by keeping Mike in our circle without ever discussing it with me.
I recently did something I've never done: I looked up Mike on Facebook. I wanted to see some glimmer of evidence that he'd matured or changed so I wouldn't worry as much about other women who cross his path. His profile picture was him, hands on hips, shirtless, with aviator glasses and a trucker cap. *sigh*
So he's not in jail as I fantasized. He's not declaring his support for the women's movement now that he's taken a good look at himself and his past and apologized to anyone he's hurt. He has not apologized to me for what he did and likely never will. And that's okay. I don't need his apology to live an awesome life.
And now he lives in my town (which I didn't realize until I looked him up on Facebook, fuuuck) and I will also have to live with that. But now I've found my support. My husband and my bestie have vowed to punch him in the neck should they ever encounter him. I realize they would never actually do this, but goddamn does it feel good to hear them say that they would. I hear the anger in their voices when they talk to me about this. I see that they are hurt, listening to my pain. What a gift it is to have them in my life. Their support is more important than food on many days.
I'm sick of carrying around this burden. It's been almost 20 years that I've lugged this around and become complicit in protecting someone I consider dangerous. So to Mike and everyone like him:
Time's up. You fucker.
No comments:
Post a Comment