No.

I remember calling my roommate after I was finally allowed to leave his apartment. I was drenched in sweat, trembling, scared and hoping he didn't run down the hallway after me so I talked to her nonstop until I got to my car. I had to bite him so he would let me go. I had to beg and plead so he would move his body from blocking the door and I could escape. I kept looking at the drawers in his kitchen wondering which one had the knives. By the way, pepper spray doesn't work if your purse is across the room on a chair and he's got your arms locked at your sides squeezing your back so hard it cracks and hurts.

When you're biting someone's skin there's a decision you make whether to draw blood or not. I didn't want to taste his blood so I held back pressure until he released me, but I would have taken a chunk out and spit it in his face if he had gone further. We've got 20 or more friends in common. He's successful and well known.

He wanted to kiss me and I said no so we had a physical struggle. I was wearing my glasses, no makeup, baggy sweats and a t-shirt. In other words: my least attractive outfit. I didn't take the wine he offered. I didn't want to drink. Why? Because I was not interested AT ALL and didn't want him to get that idea. I never flirted. I actually liked a friend of his and he knew. As far as I was concerned he was just the guy that my friend's best friend had been in a relationship with 5 years, so he was "safe". I didn't report it or tell anyone other than a few close friends because I had a feeling it was my fault. I made the mistake of going to his apartment alone. Maybe it was the wrong time of day? 8:30 pm must be too late. People will think I'm stupid. I also thought, well he didn't actually kiss or rape me. He put his hands on me, he trapped me close to his body, he hurt my back, he "only" tried to kiss me but I kept turning my head back and forth so he couldn't.

I somehow convinced myself that it was really bad, but not really REALLY bad. I think the scariest moment was when I realized he wasn't going to let me leave. He locked the door and stood in front of it. The only other way out was to jump off his balcony and smash to death on the ground. It crossed my mind. If that was my only option, yeah maybe I would run and jump. The mind goes crazy during a time of panic and violation. There's this sinking feeling deep inside; a realization of the situation and wishing so much to rewind.




He apologized dozens of times afterwards in messages, texts, a gift. He said he talked to his mother and sister about it. I didn't care. I told him the damage was irreparable.

It was. It is.

As a result I rarely go a man's apartment alone no matter how long I've known him and how many friends in common we have. Even now, eight years later when I do go inside I get this ominous feeling as the door clicks behind me and I set my purse down.