Faith’s Story
I love solo-traveling. I’ve done most of my self-discovery and experienced the most incredible moments while alone in foreign cities. However, I’ve also lost myself a little at times - especially when I traveled alone to Rome in February 2019. It’s crazy how regardless of how many amazing memories I have in that beautiful city, the one traumatizing experience will always trump them.
On Valentine’s day, I went to a party that was held at my hostel. I met some really cool people and had a lot of fun. I didn’t drink (might’ve smoked a little haha), but I was very aware of my surroundings and in control. I met a cute guy who was fun and showed me a few other bars and stuck by my side the entire night. He invited me to come over to his house that night - I’d literally never gone home with a stranger before, but I thought “fuck it” - when am I going to have this crazy opportunity in Rome again? I made it EXTREMELY clear that I wasn’t going to have sex with him. I said I’d happily sleep over, but there was going to be no fucking and I told him to not even ask me. It was Valentine’s Day, and I was in Rome - on a quest to discover myself (my sensual side, too), and I was doing what I wanted to do for the first time without worrying about anything else. However, I still wanted to keep my virginity - I wasn’t ready or willing to have sex yet. That night was fine. He took me around the city the next day and was respectful for the most part (other than constantly questioning my morals and values). After spending so much time with him, I felt comfortable enough to stay over again… I wish I could go back in time. He was so pressuring. After becoming intimate with him, he ended up putting his dick inside of me without my consent and said, “Well... I guess you’re not a virgin anymore”. I was so shocked. It’s hard to even explain how taken back I was because not only was I penetrated against my will, but hearing him tell me what I was… what he took from me… it just completely shocked me. I froze for a second, then pushed him off of me. I wasn’t brave enough to leave - I’ll admit that. Also, my phone was dead and I wouldn’t have had a safe way to get to my hostel. So many things were running through my mind and I couldn’t quite catch up with it all - I just felt like I wasn’t myself anymore. Like this was an out-of-body experience. Somehow we kept becoming intimate and he continued to try to have sex with me. I said at least 10 times, “I don’t want this.” or “No” or “please stop and understand my boundaries”, but he continued to pressure me and was very manipulative with the things he would say - “you’re already not a virgin”, “your body clearly wants it”... Eventually I gave up trying to defend myself. I just let him finish. And pretended it was fine until it was over. Tears started falling down my face as soon as he came. I couldn’t say a word to him. I was so angry with myself… Questioning why I didn’t leave. Why was I awkwardly giggling instead of screaming? Why did I choose to be nice to someone like this? Why was I concerned about not wanting to hurt HIS feelings? Why was THAT my instinct? Why did I freeze? Could I have been clearer? Could I have pushed him off of me harder? Was something lost in translation?
When he got what he wanted he said (while watching me cry), “Your pussy is beautiful” and “there’s much worse ways to lose your virginity.” I felt like a piece of meat. So lifeless. It was the first time I felt like I had zero control over my own body. When I got back to my hostel the next morning I just sat down in the shower and cried for at least an hour. Scrubbing my body. Praying in anger. Making my anxiety sore to new heights with all of these “what if’s” going on in my head. I was dreading having to get checked for STDs and to take a pregnancy test for my first time. I didn’t want to tell my friends or family about this. I felt so stuck, stupid, confused, hurt, alone, and just completely broken.
I still think about him. Definitely not as often as before, but he still lives in my mind. Since this encounter, I’ve even cried after good sexual experiences. If they respect me, it somehow triggers me. And when I feel violated or even slightly out of control in an intimate setting, it also triggers me. But I’ve come to terms with it all… I forgive myself. I understand my reaction and I accept that it’ll come in waves sometimes. He truly broke me and took something from me that I was saving. And I wouldn’t say I’m grateful to have been raped, but I will say that it has made me a hell of a lot stronger. I won’t take the bullshit anymore. I’m not naive. I stand up for myself. I speak up when I feel violated or disrespected. I can empathize more with victims of sexual assault and I’ve actually been able to help in some of their healing journeys - that is huge to me! My first time having sex was clearly not how I imagined and I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone… but I know that although this memory probably won’t ever fade away, it gets a little easier to live with as the days go on. I’m at such a good place right now. I never thought I could enjoy sex after him. I never thought I could see hope and light in this whole experience. I never thought I’d forgive or understand my reaction. But look at me now!!! I’m glowing ;)
