The Boy Was Cute

I went to a party just down the street from my parents’ house. I was around 20 and didn’t drink alcohol. Just having fun. The party was pretty chill and I was getting ready to leave, but needed to use the bathroom.

I went into the half bath between the kitchen and living area and locked the door. I remember hearing the door rattle and yelling I was in there. Flushed, washed my hands, and opened the door. I was pushed back in by this guy I thought was so cute and had flirted with a bit the past few months I had been in town.

Somehow, he ended up pinning me underneath him bent over the sink while I was yelling “no” and “let me go”. At that point I had been overpowered and exhausted. When he finished, he left out of the bathroom like nothing happened. I stayed in the bathroom for a few minutes, tried to collect myself and the tried to sneak out of the party humiliated. I felt like everyone was going to look at me like I was a slut at that moment I walked out of the door.

The host of the party was in the hall when I walked out. He asked me if I was alright, and I looked at him like I was fine and just got out of there. 

The first person I told the entire story to was my husband when I was 36. It felt relieving to speak of it & now understand it was not my fault.
The cute boy is a friend of a friend on Facebook and I’m often tempted to confront him about it, but I honestly don’t know if I’d feel any better about it.
He was such a cute boy.   H. Clark (West Monroe, Louisiana)