He pulls me close, not saying a word, not needing to say a word, doing exactly what he said he would…beinghere.
“Please don’t ask me, please don’t ask me,” I repeat. I don’t even know why I’m sayingit.
“I won’t,” he assuresme.
He doesn’t realize that everything he’s saying is so right for me. It’s exactly what I need to hear. Like in all the time we’ve shared before this moment, I feel he understands me in a way other people can’t. I feel so lucky to have him in my life…and so scared that I’m going to wind up pushing him awayforever.
43
Jesse
As the day wears on,I can see Eric’s becoming more and more relaxed. He hasn’t totally returned to his usual self, but it’s clear he’s not as disturbed as he was lastnight.
Neither of us really slept, but how the fuck can I sleep after whathappened?
He said he was going to catch up on some work, so he’s in his office. I assume he’s really trying torecover.
While he’s occupied, I get on my laptop at the dining room table and perform various internet searches, typing in key words like “rape survivor” and “male rapevictim.”
I feel guilty about doing this at his place, but whatever he’s going through, I want to be here forhim.
No, I don’t know the level of what happened, but I assume it was some sort of assault…some serious violation. I’ve felt that since that encounter in the shower, but now I’m fucking certain ofit.
I want to be able to give him what he needs, and even though whatever happened to him that caused him to react that way must be god-awful, in a way I’m relieved that now I understand the discomfort Eric was experiencing when I first touched his ass wasn’t just some phobia. It’s a deep wound, and now that I know, I hope there’s something I can do to helphim.
Rape…it’s something I’ve certainly heard plenty about throughout the course of my life, and I feel like I have the same limited education as the majority of the population. I’ve seen the mentions in the news…on and on…to the point where terms likesexual assaultat times just seem like the norm for dailynews.
I’ve always assumed I’ve known someone who was a rape victim, but no one has ever confessed anything like that to me. And well, still, no onehas.
In my research, I find out a lot of facts about rape survivors…things I wouldn’t have necessarily thought about. Statistics I’d never learnedbefore.
While there are far more rapes perpetuated against women, there is a staggering number of men who suffer as well. Certainly I knew it was an issue for men, but not to the degree it clearly is. I read on, then watch a few YouTube videos about triggers, a term I’ve heard used in conversations about rape, but I’m now considering in relation to what happened with me andEric.
From my brief perusal, it’s clear people’s experience with assault varies so much. Some people avoid sex after to minimize triggers, some become hypersexual as an attempt to reclaim their power, and some have specific triggers during sex. The number of ways people have of responding to assault are as varied as the number of people who have beenvictims.
Eric definitely hasn’t avoided sex, but it’s clear there are aspects he’s avoided because of whatever happened to him...whatever was done tohim.
That had to have been why he reacted the way he had to me rimming him. He typically avoids anyone messing around with his ass, and when I did, I activated some sort of flashback or something that pulled him back to feeling like he was trapped in that experience all overagain.
I discover a lot of information about post-traumatic stress disorder in rapevictims.
As I continue investigating, I find myself wondering about the extent of Eric’s wounds. There are a lot of people who don’t experience this once, but are repeat victims, sometimes at the hands of more than one perpetrator, often someone theyknow.
The more I research, the angrier Ibecome.
How old was he? A child? In high school? College? Was it that bastard father ofhis?
Who hurt you, Eric? What did they do? Why didn’t they care that you were inpain?
Whoever it was, I want to kill them for what they so selfishly did to this incredible, sensitive, compassionate man I’ve come toknow.
How can people be so fucking selfish? How can people be socruel?
As angry as I am about what’s happened and as disappointed as I am that what was supposed to be such a romantic weekend turned into something dark and twisted, I’m glad Eric didn’t ask me to go. Not just didn’t ask me to leave—he stoppedme.
If he wanted space, I was willing to give it to him, but I was so worried that whatever I ignited last night would be too much for him to handle, that he would associate me with that negative experience, not want to talk to me or open up about whatever it was, that he would need to push me away. Because it’s obviously something he doesn’t want toface.
However, from what he said to me, I feel like there’s a part of him that does want to talk about it. That he’s carried this for too long and the strain of living under that weight alone has been toomuch.
