Hi Winningtimers, 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 rape counseling.
I am gladly taking 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 sexually 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 “sex”
which was basically just vigorously rubbing the
naked Barbie’s together then putting their tiny
Barbie mouths on his stuff. For whatever reason,
this didn’t phase me as a child. I will admit, seeing that stuff 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 butt 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 around her someday and
this clearly very high/drunk late-20-something guy
comes down the stairs and asks if he could play 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, defensive mechanisms
kicked in and I began to scream and fight (punching,
kicking, biting, scratching, etc) as hard as I could
but 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 shit 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, but not
traumatized like I felt like a victim of rape 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 rape 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 rape 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
intercourse with one guy but I have been in a
relationship with 3 other guys with no actual
intercourse. 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 rape fantasy
gets me unbelievably hot and I feel like the biggest
fucking psychopath for this. I don’t feel like a sex
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 rape and molestation is not okay, right?! I’m
also unsure if the rape 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 sexual 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
rape or if I’m generally an apathetic person that just
gets over shit 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
Psychologist but I would love to see anyone’s
feedback.
Apathetic girl got raped and now she has
dirty apathetic fantasies about said rape and she
thinks this could be bad but she isn’t sure. Over to you our Fellow winningtimers.
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