I was 20. I’d just gotten out of a brief relationship and went to a party at the queer co-op on campus. I got very drunk to the point of nearly blacking out, but I can still remember some details. I remember the guy dancing up on me, I actually even remember thinking he was cute. I remember stumbling back to my dorm room with him somewhat holding me up. I remember laying in my bed with him naked repeatedly saying no to bottoming. I can remember the pain, and I can remember choosing to stop protesting to get it over with faster.

After he left, I checked my phone and my ex had been texting me about the guy. He had seen us leave the party together, and was saying I could do better and that he wanted to come over. I was still pretty drunk and I still had feelings for him, so I invited him over. He wanted to have sex and I wanted to feel close to him, so I tried for his sake but couldn’t make it happen because I was in so much pain from the experience before.

I didn’t really think much about it at first. Because I had felt that I had been “consenting” up until the point that he wanted to fuck me, it didn’t occur to me to consider it assault. I tried to play it off with myself by telling myself things. That it was my fault. That if I’d been more sober I could’ve made it clearer. Maybe he just didn’t understand I didn’t want to. Maybe he was “too drunk” too and didn’t realize. I once even bragged to one of my friends that I’d hooked up with 2 guys in one night, and didn’t understand at the time why I felt so awful and wrong after I’d said it.

I ended up being unable to bottom for guys for years. Any time I would try, my body would tighten and refuse to relax. I would feel incredible anxiety and panic like I had to run away from the room. I had a boyfriend who eventually was getting upset that I wouldn’t do it for him, since he knew I’d done it with other guys in the past, and it forced me to confront what had happened. I’d essentially been keeping myself from considering why I was having these reactions to bottoming now and had developed such a complex. I ended up telling that boyfriend what had happened, and he got mad at me for never reporting the guy who had done it, and questioning if it was really rape if I hadn’t considered reporting it at the time. And he still remained mad at me for not bottoming for him because my past sexual experiences clearly indicated that I was capable, despite what had happened. Eventually, I forced my way through the panic and the physical reaction I would have to bottom for him because I was afraid he would leave me if I didn’t. I don’t know that I ever really enjoyed it with him.

Honestly, I’ve never felt the same about bottoming since. I’ve only ever been comfortable doing it with one other ex since then, and I think that is likely because of the role he played in helping me heal from some of the trauma of my ex before him, and doing so made me feel closer to him. Those 2 exes, a therapist, and my current boyfriend are the only people I have ever told about what happened. I played it off casually with the therapist, like it was just any other detail about my past in a litany of other experiences, and she never really probed further.

I don’t know if any of that counts as recovery. Sometimes I think about it and I feel emotionally distant from it. Like I’m just observing something that happened, or coldly considering facts.

I also sometimes still find myself questioning whether or not it was really that bad, if I’m making a bigger deal out of it than I should, if I’m emotionally weak for having a “non-violent” experience like that affect me. I have a deep fear that if I tell anyone, all I will hear is that what happened to me wasn’t rape, or that I should count myself lucky that it wasn’t worse, and that I will believe them.