#YesAllWomen, Part Two

Yesterday I wrote the story of being assaulted by a friend. Today I wanted to write the story of being assaulted by a stranger.

I don’t want to, really. But ever since I said I would, it’s been rattling around in my head and my gut – I’ve been mentally writing a post all day and I want it out of my head.

But here’s the thing. I don’t REALLY want to tell a long story about what led to what, and what happened after and so on and so. Abbreviated:

I was about 19 or 20, and I was in Mexico, with a friend (who I’m not longer in contact with, hence the photo edit.) This is a photo of me at the beginning of the night:

2014-05-27 18.28.07

(Overalls and a fannypack. 1990, y’all).

The night would end with me waking up, half my clothes off and a stranger’s erect penis pushing into my very, very, very upper thigh.

I’m sorry. Is that terrible to read? It was terrible to experience.

Long story short, I super-human-strength, adrenaline-fueled-rage escaped, pushing this solid little bodybuilder  off of me, somehow grabbing my clothes and running into the hall, screaming for help.

In the days that followed I was asked two questions:

  1. Were you drunk? Yes
  2. Did he *rape* you? I don’t know

I don’t know. To this day, I don’t know. And part of the guilt I have felt ever since is that I told people alternatively that I *had* been raped and that he TRIED to rape me. I was confused. I didn’t know. I was in shock. I still feel like I’m making excuses. I don’t know.

I felt guilty for a long time. I shouldn’t have said he raped me if I didn’t KNOW if he raped me. I do not have any recollection of penetration, no. So I shouldn’t have said rape.

But. But. Does it matter if he achieved P in V? It doesn’t. He put his erect penis on my body, without my consent and was very, very much aiming for a home run. Did he rape me? I don’t know. Did he sexually assault me? Hell yes.

I didn’t call the cops. I told everyone I wasn’t sure what had happened, so I didn’t want the guy to rot in a Mexican jail. I wish he had rotten in a Mexican jail, one – for what he did and two, for the lies he told after. That I consented. That I ASKED for it. That I ASKED him to pull the clothes off my sleeping body and have sex with me WHILE HIS FRIEND WATCHED, while close to 30 other people, male and female, including my friends, were about 15 feet away on the patio of the hotel room. I have questions about what happened that night, but I don’t question that. That is not my style. That did not happen. He is a rapist AND a liar.

He is a rapist. If I hadn’t woken up that PRECISE second, he would have achieved what he set out to do. Maybe he did, before I woke up. I don’t know. But he sexually assaulted me and then tried to blame me for it. Drunk girl asked for it, you guys.

Drunk girl did not ask for it. Drunk girl still thinks about it, 20+ years later. I bet he doesn’t.

 

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8 Responses to #YesAllWomen, Part Two

  1. Lynnette says:

    GOD, LARA. Why. I don’t know. I don’t know. I love you.

  2. Dr. Maureen says:

    I am so sorry. I am just so sorry. For this and for the other one and that it was twice. I am so sorry.

  3. Bean says:

    Yes, this! UGH! Friend, you are amazing & loved. I hate that these shitty things happened to you. I still don’t know what happened & 15 years later I still think about it. I bet he never does. Was it rape? I don’t know. Was it sexual assault, hell yes. Drunk girl did not ask for it.

  4. Carmen says:

    Oh Lara. I’m beyond sad that anyone has a story like this, let alone two stories like this. And when it’s someone I consider a friend, well, that just makes the anger/sadness/rage/frustration even more intense. Love & hugs.

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