I
imsorry
Self-banned
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- Joined
- Oct 17, 2020
- Posts
- 2,933
too long; don't give a fuck:
>whore is in a relationship
>starts flirting with another man (the rapist)
>she wasn't scared whilst she was laying in the bed & making out with him
>knows that cheating is bad and she should be punished for it, yet she gives into her primal instincts to VOLUNTARILY fuck her rapist.
>years later she wants to initiate a second encounter with her rapist as counterintuitive as it may seem.
>after 8 years after the incident [until age 29] she realized that she had been raped and the termp "rape victim" applies to her.
what the actual fuck? explain this to me.
https://www.marieclaire.com/sex-love/a15957811/cheated-with-my-rapist/
>whore is in a relationship
>starts flirting with another man (the rapist)
>she wasn't scared whilst she was laying in the bed & making out with him
>knows that cheating is bad and she should be punished for it, yet she gives into her primal instincts to VOLUNTARILY fuck her rapist.
>years later she wants to initiate a second encounter with her rapist as counterintuitive as it may seem.
>after 8 years after the incident [until age 29] she realized that she had been raped and the termp "rape victim" applies to her.
what the actual fuck? explain this to me.
A man crushed me from above, thrusting into me roughly from behind. With a blurry glimpse over my shoulder, I registered the face of a close friend’s brother.
After dinner, it became clear that the brother would be joining us at the bar and, strangely, I started to escalate my small talk to flirtation. It was like shifting into an autopilot mode I didn’t know existed.
Oddly, being back in bed with him didn’t scare me. We rolled around and made out in the bottom half of a bunk bed. It was all very PG-13; the way I might have behaved with a high school crush. He didn’t push for more and I didn’t offer. I woke to find three friends rousing on his grungy couch and shooting me confused looks—they were friendly with my pretty serious boyfriend.
I knew I should be ashamed and, frankly, worried that my boyfriend—who I’d been with for a year and would go on to date for another three—would find out. But I was neither. Instead, I felt like I’d scratched a hard-to-reach itch. Cheating wasn’t something I took lightly, but whatever deep-seated need I’d satisfied that night was more important than fidelity. An obscure yet palpable sense of relief drove away any hint of guilt before it could take hold.
Counterintuitive as it may seem, my impulse to initiate a second encounter with my attacker more than a year after the original incident makes sense to experts on sexual assault. “Attempting to master a situation in which you previously did not have control is one way a lot of assault victims respond,” says Jim Hopper, Ph.D., teaching associate in psychology at Harvard Medical School and a nationally recognized expert on sexual assault and trauma.
Looking back, I see the logic: Why wouldn’t I want to reclaim the narrative by rewriting my story with a different ending—one in which I reversed the dynamic with someone who’d previously robbed me of all power? “The motivation is usually trying to gain some sense of authority, either over a sex scenario or even how the perpetrator sees you—i.e. not as someone they can do whatever they want to,” explains Hopper. “It can also be a way to manage your perception of yourself, by painting a different picture of what happened. Because who wants to think of themselves as a rape victim?”
It took me until age 29—eight years after the assault—to even consider that the term “rape victim” might apply to me. When I told my fiancé and therapist the story about a year ago, they were both quick to call it rape.
For so long, I evaded the truth so that I could avoid becoming a statistic: 70 percent of rapes are committed by someone known to the victim. Up to 25 percent of women will experience rape during college. More than half of those co-eds won’t tell anyone about it.
By seducing my rapist, I extended the shelf life of my denial. Whenever my mind flashed back to that terrifying night in the dorm, the bitter recollection was diffused by a newer, more palatable memory. My brain used a vivid evening of dancing and flirting to overwrite one of the darkest experiences in my life, and to replace one damaging label—“rape victim”—with another, less distressing one: “cheater.” Of two grim options, the latter was more acceptable—for a while, at least.
Ten years after my rape, I can finally call it by its name. I’m grateful to people like Hopper, who are dedicated to helping people understand that recovering from sexual assault is a long, thorny process. Rarely does the narrative unfold linearly, with police reports, justice, and a clear path to healing. I now understand that there were complex survival instincts at play when I chose to climb back into bed with my rapist. It’s time we stopped being surprised that the primitive, unnatural act of rape can trigger equally primitive, unnatural responses in its victims.
https://www.marieclaire.com/sex-love/a15957811/cheated-with-my-rapist/





