FIERCE FEATURES: A Vile Action on a Night I Forgot by Sadee Bee
Trauma has a funny way of sneaking up on me. There are swaths of time where my memories are blank from years of deliberate suppression. I'm sure my ability to dissociate helps as well. I worked with my first therapist for five years, sometimes twice a week, and we had yet to dig into all my trauma. I often feel like I wasted valuable time with her, but that's not the subject of this story. I do miss her, though. Anyhow, in the last year, it feels like a flood gate has opened in my brain. Memories I once thought dead are resurrecting themselves like blood-thirsty zombies. My mind is a battlefield, and I've been thrown into the war woefully unprepared. Now, I'm stuck facing triggers that I didn't even know I had. It is maddening.
Racing thoughts have begun to affect my life. One or two memories play on repeat lately. My sleep is awful, and I'm slipping back into bad habits. All because of one night many years ago. This was before I met my husband, obviously, but after I met Weed Man from Plenty of Fish. Clearly, I didn't learn my lesson the first time using that specific dating site, but younger me wasn't the brightest. I don't remember his name, but I remember his face, body, and voice. Recalling either of those things makes my hair stand up on the back of my neck. We shall call him Abs because I remember those well.
The first time we met was nothing exciting. We had talked for a few days, and Abs invited me to his place to watch a movie. I borrowed my roommate's car and drove the thirty minutes to his place. It was interesting. He only had one chair in his TV room, so I sat on the floor for a bit. We talked more and then decided to listen to music in his car. It was a super basic date, if anything a subpar date, but things seemed alright enough. It got late, and I wasn't in the mood for much else, so I went home, and we discussed hanging out again. I was happy because he was attractive and seemed interested in me, which I hadn't had for a while. If I could turn back time, I would make a different choice. I would have used some critical thinking or even not met up with him at all.
He invited me to a get-together at his friend's house one night. I was bored and figured a small party wouldn't be the worst. When I arrived, I learned that it was not, in fact, a party. It was simply him, his friend, and his friend's girlfriend. Just me, a guy I had just met, and two people that I didn't know at all. I should have left; I should have trusted my gut; yet, I stayed. As soon as I entered the cluttered apartment, I was handed a beer. Abs was immediately aggressive in a sexual manner. He sat me down on the couch with him, put a blanket over us, and started placing my hands in places I didn't want them to be. Every time I tried to move them, he would yank them back. I chalked the behavior up to alcohol and let it be, especially since we weren't alone in the room. It is a repeating theme, but I should have left.
After a bit, he got up from the couch to get another drink, and I just sat there, unsure of what to do. Now, things will get uncomfortable and possibly triggering, so please keep that in mind. Someone knocked on the door to the apartment, and his friend expressed that he wasn't expecting anyone. Abs went to a cabinet next to the TV and pulled out a gun. I didn't know he had one. At this moment, I knew I fucked up. He cocked the weapon loudly near the door and whoever had knocked took off running. He then walked around with it for a bit before putting it away. I couldn't move even though my mind told me to get out of there. I froze.
I held my drink and sat quietly. Eventually, Abs's friend and his friend's girlfriend retreated to their room. Suddenly, it was just him and I in the living room. When he made his move, I was too afraid to say no. I had no idea what he was capable of, and I wanted to leave alive or at least unharmed. So I acquiesced to what he wanted under the stipulation that protection must be used.
Stealthing is a slang term for removing a condom during sex without the partner's consent.
I checked out for most of it. I think at one point, I pretended to enjoy it to get him to stop. I don't know why my brain thought that would work because it didn't. Eventually, he stopped, and I got dressed as quickly as possible. When I looked over at him, I noticed there was no condom. So I asked him where it was.
"Oh, that dumb shit? I took it off in the middle; it was uncomfortable."
I was shocked. Not only did I agree to do something I didn't want to do, but Abs had also taken away the one thing I had control over. Yet, I didn't cry, I didn't scream at him, and I didn't immediately run out of the apartment. My actions constituted fawning, but I had no idea what that was at the time.
Fawning refers to a trauma response in which a person reverts to people-pleasing to diffuse conflict and re-establish a sense of safety.
I hung out for a little bit, had a cigarette with him on the balcony, and wondered to myself why I let it go this far. I had allowed this to happen; how could I be mad at him for something I didn't say no to? When I finally left, I walked to my car in silence. I felt dirty, used, and lied to. He had taken advantage of me and had let it happen. When I got back to my apartment, my roommates were already in bed. I took the hottest shower I could, told no one about what happened, and decided to forget and move on. From what I knew about reporting these incidents, I decided against doing so.
No one would believe me. I didn't say no, I didn't stop him from what he was doing, and I didn't leave when I had the chance. No one would believe me. I thought that for years. Since he didn't directly threaten me with violence, I gave in and let him do what he wanted and didn't notice he removed the condom; what rights did I have in that situation? I learned later that coercion and stealthing are both crimes and forms of sexual assault. Both are crimes. I'm not sure if that would have changed my mind on reporting, but at least I know now that none of it was my fault.
My biggest fear or regret is that he may have done this to others. That I could have been the one to prevent that if only I weren't afraid. I also fear that I'll run into him someday and won't even remember that it's him. I am married now, and I'm safe, so I'm not dating, but it is still my fear. I'm also uncomfortable around guns and unfamiliar men. I lost part of myself that day, and it took me a long time to recover. Therapy has helped, but it is not something easily forgotten. Know that you are not alone. I thought I was for a long time until an article about stealthing came out a couple of years ago. It is a vile action, and it violates a person's autonomy. Whether or not you choose to report it is solely up to you. No matter what you choose, you are a survivor. Coercion is not consent, and stealthing is assault. I've only ever told my husband about this but now felt like the time to speak my truth. I am here, and I have thrived despite having a piece of me taken away.
Racing thoughts have begun to affect my life. One or two memories play on repeat lately. My sleep is awful, and I'm slipping back into bad habits. All because of one night many years ago. This was before I met my husband, obviously, but after I met Weed Man from Plenty of Fish. Clearly, I didn't learn my lesson the first time using that specific dating site, but younger me wasn't the brightest. I don't remember his name, but I remember his face, body, and voice. Recalling either of those things makes my hair stand up on the back of my neck. We shall call him Abs because I remember those well.
The first time we met was nothing exciting. We had talked for a few days, and Abs invited me to his place to watch a movie. I borrowed my roommate's car and drove the thirty minutes to his place. It was interesting. He only had one chair in his TV room, so I sat on the floor for a bit. We talked more and then decided to listen to music in his car. It was a super basic date, if anything a subpar date, but things seemed alright enough. It got late, and I wasn't in the mood for much else, so I went home, and we discussed hanging out again. I was happy because he was attractive and seemed interested in me, which I hadn't had for a while. If I could turn back time, I would make a different choice. I would have used some critical thinking or even not met up with him at all.
He invited me to a get-together at his friend's house one night. I was bored and figured a small party wouldn't be the worst. When I arrived, I learned that it was not, in fact, a party. It was simply him, his friend, and his friend's girlfriend. Just me, a guy I had just met, and two people that I didn't know at all. I should have left; I should have trusted my gut; yet, I stayed. As soon as I entered the cluttered apartment, I was handed a beer. Abs was immediately aggressive in a sexual manner. He sat me down on the couch with him, put a blanket over us, and started placing my hands in places I didn't want them to be. Every time I tried to move them, he would yank them back. I chalked the behavior up to alcohol and let it be, especially since we weren't alone in the room. It is a repeating theme, but I should have left.
After a bit, he got up from the couch to get another drink, and I just sat there, unsure of what to do. Now, things will get uncomfortable and possibly triggering, so please keep that in mind. Someone knocked on the door to the apartment, and his friend expressed that he wasn't expecting anyone. Abs went to a cabinet next to the TV and pulled out a gun. I didn't know he had one. At this moment, I knew I fucked up. He cocked the weapon loudly near the door and whoever had knocked took off running. He then walked around with it for a bit before putting it away. I couldn't move even though my mind told me to get out of there. I froze.
I held my drink and sat quietly. Eventually, Abs's friend and his friend's girlfriend retreated to their room. Suddenly, it was just him and I in the living room. When he made his move, I was too afraid to say no. I had no idea what he was capable of, and I wanted to leave alive or at least unharmed. So I acquiesced to what he wanted under the stipulation that protection must be used.
Stealthing is a slang term for removing a condom during sex without the partner's consent.
I checked out for most of it. I think at one point, I pretended to enjoy it to get him to stop. I don't know why my brain thought that would work because it didn't. Eventually, he stopped, and I got dressed as quickly as possible. When I looked over at him, I noticed there was no condom. So I asked him where it was.
"Oh, that dumb shit? I took it off in the middle; it was uncomfortable."
I was shocked. Not only did I agree to do something I didn't want to do, but Abs had also taken away the one thing I had control over. Yet, I didn't cry, I didn't scream at him, and I didn't immediately run out of the apartment. My actions constituted fawning, but I had no idea what that was at the time.
Fawning refers to a trauma response in which a person reverts to people-pleasing to diffuse conflict and re-establish a sense of safety.
I hung out for a little bit, had a cigarette with him on the balcony, and wondered to myself why I let it go this far. I had allowed this to happen; how could I be mad at him for something I didn't say no to? When I finally left, I walked to my car in silence. I felt dirty, used, and lied to. He had taken advantage of me and had let it happen. When I got back to my apartment, my roommates were already in bed. I took the hottest shower I could, told no one about what happened, and decided to forget and move on. From what I knew about reporting these incidents, I decided against doing so.
No one would believe me. I didn't say no, I didn't stop him from what he was doing, and I didn't leave when I had the chance. No one would believe me. I thought that for years. Since he didn't directly threaten me with violence, I gave in and let him do what he wanted and didn't notice he removed the condom; what rights did I have in that situation? I learned later that coercion and stealthing are both crimes and forms of sexual assault. Both are crimes. I'm not sure if that would have changed my mind on reporting, but at least I know now that none of it was my fault.
My biggest fear or regret is that he may have done this to others. That I could have been the one to prevent that if only I weren't afraid. I also fear that I'll run into him someday and won't even remember that it's him. I am married now, and I'm safe, so I'm not dating, but it is still my fear. I'm also uncomfortable around guns and unfamiliar men. I lost part of myself that day, and it took me a long time to recover. Therapy has helped, but it is not something easily forgotten. Know that you are not alone. I thought I was for a long time until an article about stealthing came out a couple of years ago. It is a vile action, and it violates a person's autonomy. Whether or not you choose to report it is solely up to you. No matter what you choose, you are a survivor. Coercion is not consent, and stealthing is assault. I've only ever told my husband about this but now felt like the time to speak my truth. I am here, and I have thrived despite having a piece of me taken away.
I may not be whole, but I am more than what he did to me.
(This piece was originally published in Sadee Bee's collection Pupa: Growth and Metamorphosis released by Alien Buddha Press. Buy the book here!)
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