Gang Rape

From Todaycollegetour

Thanks for making the time to see me today….[Long pause] I don’t know where to start. I feel a little embarrassed talking to a guy…[Pause]…Ah what the hell, I came this far, right? I guess you could say I am very confused, so I’ll just start from the beginning.
When I came to campus as a freshman last fall, I thought college was just about two things: studying and partying. I remember stacking the boxes in my car and feeling very excited about the freedoms I would experience. Getting good grades was important, but I wanted to fit in too. When I got to school, the first thing I did after unpacking those boxes was search out the biggest partiers on campus. As long as my grades did not suffer, I felt that any amount of partying was just fine.
In the first few weeks of school, I would head over to a big party house night after night in hopes of meeting new people. I spent most of my nights in a drunken state, dancing, flirting and hooking up with men. My sexuality felt like an unleashed power, and while some nights I regretted, others were very exciting encounters. I developed a reputation around campus, and soon found guys would seek me out for easy sex. But I was in control of the situation; I had no problem turning down these propositions. I called the shots.
One night early in the fall of my freshman year, there was a really big party. They were serving hard alcohol in addition to the kegs in the basement. One of the seniors I knew introduced me another senior named Steve. I was very flattered with the attention. Here these senior guys were spending time with me. They started bringing me very strong drinks, one after another. As the night wore on, I became very intoxicated. Most of the party is erased from my memory. When people started to leave, Steve asked if I wanted to go back to his house. Stupidly, I said, “yes.”…[Pause] Then he asked me if I knew what I was getting into. I said I didn’t know what he meant. He laughed.
He drove me to his off-campus house, at which point my memory becomes very spotty. I remember getting sick in his bathroom. I remember being carried up to his bedroom. I remember not wanting to have sex but found someone on top of me. I passed out, and when I came to, someone else was on top of me. I am not sure whom I had sex with or how many people that night. When I woke the next morning, there were two naked men on the bed. Shaken and ashamed, I got dressed and left. When I got back to my room I realized that I had left a watch my grandmother had given me at the house. My grandmother had died during my first week of college, and this was a very precious memento. I called the Steve’s house to see if I could get the watch back, and I was told, “no.” The following fall Steve returned to school as an alum to attend a party, and I confronted him. “What exactly happened that night?” I asked him. “Oh I guess you’ll never know,” he replied.
Now I am a senior, and I am still haunted by this. I never told anyone until just now. How could I? I had no marks or bruises. Hell, I didn’t even fight them. Anyone I told would have thought I had it coming to me. Besides I didn’t even know who the perpetrators were. Nor could I accurately account for what happened. Telling anyone would have just gotten me more humiliation, that’s all. In some ways I felt I had consented to the events by not challenging Steve’s question about knowing what I was getting into. Can I call it rape? [Pause]…To this day images of the night haunt me – the slick smiles of the introductions, the vomiting, the lost watch. Despite numerous self-help books and self-talk, I cannot get rid of the self-blame and shame. How could I have been so stupid? It bothers me that he and whoever else was with him have gotten to go on with their lives without any consequences for what they did, while am still troubled by what happened all these years later.