… except for the time it happened to me.
This story begins, as all great stories (and most sexual assault stories) must, when I was in college. One Halloween some friends and I went on a pub crawl. By the time we got to the last bar I was starting to get pretty tired, so I decided to sit down on one of the countertops.
This girl came up to me. She was a little… a lot… it doesn’t matter what she looked like. I wasn’t in to her. “Why aren’t you dancing?” She asked.
“I don’t know” I shrugged. “Just tired.”
Without warning she grabbed my belt with both hands and, with the strength of an ox, yanked me off the table. She then dragged me to the center of the dance floor. She pressed her body against mine, and while still holding my belt coerced my hips into rhythmic elliptical motion in sync with hers. The song playing at the time was AC/DC’s ‘you shook me all night long.’
This dance continued with each step back that I took. She seemed to move closer with every step until finally letting go of my belt. My flight instincts immediately took me to one side trying to get away. I couldn’t move so I tried the other side and still couldn’t move. She had used her body to pin me against the counter that she had yanked me from earlier. There we stayed for the rest of the song.
When I told a friend about this incident months later, he taught me the magic words that I think will do more to combat sexual assault than any awareness campaign: I’m feeling sick. I need to sit down.