sorry for the throwaway, I was

  • 11 years ago
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sorry for the throwaway, I was going to post this to my main account but I realized its also pretty close to my real name and I’ve mentioned what University I attend so I figured it was best to separate it from that.

I was also going to post this to the rapecounseling sub and I realized this is more like a weirdass confession of sorts than a need for r*** counseling. I am gladly taking redditor suggestions, comments, concerns, etc. if you see fit for it.

I guess I’ll start with the earliest memories to the most recent.

Confession #1 (I consider it to be a confession because I NEVER tell anyone about this): When I was 5-6 years old, my male 13 year old neighbor that “babysat” me s******* molested me pretty much every time I saw him. I should mention that I’m a girl. I didn’t even realize what was happening (or what happened) until I had a “Sudden Clarity Clarence” meme reaction to it MUCH later in life and it didn’t really phase me. A weird antique, oversized doll in my friends grandmothers house triggered a memory of when that boy was using an eerily similar doll and pointing out all the “special places” of that doll. Then he asked me if he could see my special places and I just showed him them and it escalated from that point forward. Thinking back on it, anytime he would play with me with my Barbies, all he would do was make the Barbies have “s**” which was basically just vigorously rubbing the naked Barbie’s together then putting their tiny Barbie mouths on his p****. For whatever reason, this didn’t phase me as a child. I will admit, seeing a p**** for the first time at 5 years old was a bit traumatic but I got over it because it happened so regularly. Pretty much any specific incidences after that were strictly fondling and he stuck his finger in my b*** like once. But the fondling happened all the time because he babysat me once or twice a week for two years.

Story: Fast-forward to when I was 12 years old. My mom was an abusive alcoholic and used to force me to go with her to her alcoholic friend’s parties (all her friends were alcoholics). One night, at a party where I was fully aware there would be illegal drugs and all other kinds of things, I went downstairs to the converted basement (basically to hide) that was now a laundry room and game room. I was playing LoZ Windwaker on the Gamecube and this clearly very high/drunk late-20-something guy comes down the stairs and asks if he could play Zelda with me. I was automatically nervous because he was creepy looking and he sat uncomfortably close to me on the couch. He watched me play for a couple minutes then started telling me how pretty I was and he started touching my chest and neck area. I didn’t really say anything but I pulled away from him and he pulled me closer. I can remember vividly how he smelled so freaking terrible. When I started to get up to go upstairs, he grabbed my arms very tightly and threw me down on the couch. At this point, he still managed to tear my shorts off (cotton soffes, I was athletic and it was mid-summer in Florida) and he raped me. Well… partially. He pinned me down and muffled my screams with a pillow and just as soon as he penetrated me, my mom came thundering down the door. I assume she would have came down sooner had the music upstairs not been so loud and the door to the basement not been shut. Well I was pretty frightened at the whole situation because my mom (who is a beast, even while drunk) beat the s*** out of this guy. He was beyond recognition. The police were never called. He never got arrested. Nothing ever happened to him, aside from getting beaten to an unrecognizable pulp, by a woman. Some might suggest that was enough punishment in itself. I knew the day after why the police were never called. My mom and all her “friends” were high on who knows what and I can remember seeing drugs what looked like drugs (needles and pipes) everywhere as we left, which was pretty abrupt.

Now, to Confession #2, of sorts. I think there are multiple things to confess but I can’t really break it all apart…. I was not phased by this event, similarly to how I was not phased by the molestation. I woke up the next day, sore and bruised v***** and a*** bleeding, but not traumatized like I felt like a victim of r*** should be. My mom basically pretended like nothing happened. To this day, 10+ years later, she refuses to talk about what happened that night and I know she was aware of what happened because she asked me on the drive home.

As a functioning young-adult (I’m 22), I often wonder if the molestation and/or r*** causes any of what I deal with today. I am the least emotional person I know. I don’t cry. I don’t get too excited or worked up about much. But I’m also not depressed. I have a generally positive outlook on life even though I do have pretty bad self-esteem issues. That has caused some problems but I mean, what girl doesn’t have self-esteem issues? Right?

For the darker and dirtier side of this confession… I have been fantasizing about the r*** for about 4 years now. This is something I am incredibly ashamed of and pretty creeped out by. How could I be fantasizing about something so many woman are horrifically scared for life about?

For some background… I have had consensual i********** with one guy but I have been in a relationship with 3 other guys with no actual i**********. And I’ve had 2 friends with benefits but that didn’t really work out either because I met them both at church and they eventually felt bad about it all while I was just sitting back like “Well are you going to take off your pants or what?” Dating relationships never worked out for me because as it turns out, most guys actually want a girl that “feels” more so than I do. But don’t get me wrong, Reddit, I can definitely have feelings for a person and I’m not some kind of Debbie downer. I have lots of friends and I’m genuinely a really nice person. Bit of an introvert, but I have no people issues. I also don’t know the difference between feelings and emotions and if there is one. Maybe I only have some emotions? I don’t really know.

Bottom line: So I told you all this to give you an idea of what’s going on in my head. The r*** fantasy gets me unbelievably hot and I feel like the biggest f****** psychopath for this. I don’t feel like a s** addict or anything, I just love to fantasize about that one night. It does scare the hell out of me though because I recognize my apathy toward something like r*** and molestation is not okay, right?! I’m also unsure if the r*** fantasy is because I was actually raped or maybe because I am slightly freaky? By freaky I mean, lady in the street, freak in the sheets… In case you were unsure but considering my s***** history is rather limited, I could probably be wrong. Either way… I feel like my partial apathy toward basically everything in my life has been a strength in many ways but it has also cost me so much. And I don’t know if this apathy was caused by my molestation then abuse then r*** or if I’m generally an apathetic person that just gets over s*** because that’s how life is?

So I guess that’s all I have to say for now, this turned out to be much longer than expected but I’m glad I got it all out. Like I said earlier, this is just a confession. I’m not looking for somekind of Reddit Psychologist but I would love to see anyone’s feedback.
Apathetic girl got raped and now she has dirty apathetic fantasies about said r*** and she thinks this could be bad but she isn’t sure.

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