I was date raped.
I told myself, long ago, that I would not qualify the rape, as a date rape. Rape is rape, and somehow, whenever I say date rape, I have a vague feeling that I’m apologizing for myself, for my part, for being in that place, with that man, who said he loved me as he hurt me.
Last night, in the dark. I was with a man who really does love me, and who would never hurt me. I don’t know what it was that made me fall apart. I thought about it for a long time afterwards. Was it a sound? A smell? Did I move, or speak in a way that triggered a body memory? Did he? In the moment, I felt panic. I didn’t know why. I felt my body surge, with a fight or flight response. I didn’t think of that other man. I only knew I was falling apart. My body was terrified, and my brain couldn’t figure out why. I couldn’t catch my breath, I cried hot tears.
Special Man Friend curled around me and covered my face with kisses. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He just waited until I came back. I don’t understand what happened, but it’s still bothering me tonight. The panic and fear I felt tasted vaguely like the rape, but there was no conscious feeling of being in danger, or of being hurt. It didn’t seem like anything I’ve ever read about PTSD. I wasn’t having memories, but I was triggered.
I don’t know.
It’s not something I’ve really talked about, or even thought about until this last year.