This post is from an anonymous person.

I was minding my own business the other day when someone asked if they could borrow one of my markers. I didn't think much of the request and dug through my massive bag until a green marker poked its head from several papers. I returned to my business and the happy young lady started to talk with some eagerness. "Thank you so much," she was expressing. "I was really hoping I could support SAAM." I accepted my marker back, noting the acronym on her arm, and I asked her what it meant. "You don't know? It's Sexual Assault Awareness Month." Whereas any awareness event usually elicits a socially acceptable level of sympathy and never anything much deeper, I was stunned to feel my breath taken away. My heart sank and felt as though I had dragged it through several nail-laden pits, and I had to do my best to keep a straight face. She blathered on about the social media site that had made her aware of the event, but in all honesty, I wasn't hearing her. I was hearing my heart thump in my chest, and feeling the way my throat constricted. I couldn't tell her (due to her age).... I was very recently a victim.

I use the word 'victim' with extreme hesitation and for lack of a better word. 'Victim' is a nearly blameless word... a label used when circumstances are beyond one's control. I cannot say with full acceptance, that I was a victim. I am not in denial when I say a huge, huge part of the blame was my own. It's part of the reason I want to share what happened to me.. especially to the young ladies out there. You see... I told myself I was not a girl that could fall prey to smooth words and meaningless compliments. I always -knew- that I would not be swept away by someone who was only interested in my body. I'd listen to tales of girls who swore the same and got themselves in dangerous situations, and I'd doubt their honesty. How could any smart young woman allow herself to be led by a silken tongue?

Worse yet, media has applied a lot of pressure on our young ladies. Our young ladies feel the need to dress provocatively and to be sexually alluring. They feel complimented when scanty clothing draws a young man's attention. They desire so badly to be 'wanted' and 'desired', that they're willing to share their most intimate thoughts and parts with complete strangers. Let's face it... in today's society, there are a lot of young girls (and boys) sharing nude photos and sexting. They are very aware of the dangers of such decisions. Their parents, the news, and ads are constantly advising them to keep certain things sacred.. but is it enough? Do these young ladies have the 'untouchable' mindset.... aware that things happen, but thinking that those things would never happen to them? Or is the risk of a tragedy minimal in comparison to their desire to feel loved?

Young ladies, I want to tell you: the risk is NOT worth it. There are not enough compliments, flirts, assurances, or professions of love.... that can diminish the pain of being sexually assaulted. There is no age exempt from the acts, and the younger you are if it happens to you... the longer you have to live with it.

I wished to remain anonymous in writing this because my aim is not to garnish sympathy. As I sat there and listened to the young girl talking about the acronym on her arm, I realized the recent attack was affecting me far more than I ever thought it would. And worse, I knew it was largely my fault. I let myself be drawn into a world of self-pity, self-incrimination, and self-despise.... a place where I allowed myself to be vulnerable while telling myself that life was hard and I deserved better. This set myself up for disaster.

I'm a married woman, and I'm not married to the most charming of guys. I love him very much, but there are times in which my selfishness causes much discontent. While some of the fault is my husband's, much of it is mine as well. I've typically been a loner, which makes it difficult for me to communicate with others. When I began to be overwhelmed by feelings of worthlessness and loneliness, I sought ways to alleviate my pain. I decided I needed to make a friend.
I kept my eyes peeled for opportunity, and in November, that opportunity presented itself. There was an older man who lived in my neighborhood, whom I had shared passing words with on occasion. I don't remember the circumstances of our first meeting, but I do know that it was over eight years ago. Whenever he passed me on the street, he'd pull over and we'd have casual chit-chat about our jobs or the weather. He'd always tell me I was looking good even on my worst of days, and though I'm not one to take compliments, it always put a smile on my face. Since I only saw the man once every other month at most, the comments did not seem overwhelming, and I thought they were simply polite little nothings. There was of course, on the back of my mind, that he truly found me physically attractive.... and what girl doesn't want to feel that way?

Nonetheless, when I saw him this past November, it had been half a year or more since our last talk. Neither of us could even remember each other's names, and he expressed a desire to keep in touch through texting or phone calls. The man knew I was married and I expressed concern over my husband's feelings on male friendships. Unfortunately, I'm a pushover and when he insisted on swapping information, I gave in. He guessed correctly how to spell my name, which stunned me; most don't. I asked what on earth made him spell my name that way, and he told me that someone with eyes as beautiful as mine would have to spell my name with an 'i'.
Corny, right? Unbelievable, right? But did I turn tail and run? Did I pay attention to the little red flag that rose hairs on the back of my neck? Or did I sit there and listen to him tell me about how my hair should be the object of black and white photography...... that pulled over one shoulder, my hair gave me the appearance of a goddess or royalty? Even unmasked comments take their toll, as ridiculous as they may be.

I had coffee with him.. twice. I told myself I wasn't going to respond to his compliments, so there was no reason for concern. And I can't even say that 'in my defence', I didn't react once. I was stoic and changed the topic every time he brought up my hair, my intellect, or my heart. I was proud of myself. I told myself that I could have a conversation with a man and not be affected by such silly antics. He acted like a man smitten, but in my view, he had known me for all of two days and couldn't possibly be smitten. If he WAS smitten, it would be with my body... not with myself. It was a false strength which I used as an excuse. Besides that, I knew the man was over a decade my elder.

Guilt -did- catch up, and I told the man I could not have coffee behind my husband's back any longer.Two months later though, and I decided to try another conversation. This time, I told myself that I would only talk to him through text, and I'd still keep my distance when it came to compliments. I did so magnificently, but the more we talked, the more I desired to open up about things... to express my emotions. Our conversations got deeper, and one night I sat up much too late on the back of several restless nights. He had always remained pretty secretive, averting my questions and opening up very little. I decided that in order to get him to open up, I'd act first.

I told him my deepest, darkest, most intimate secrets that night. What made me tick and what made me cringe. What made me strong, and what made me weak. I was a glutton for punishment, and I could sense the hunger I awoke in him. He sent me a very crude picture, and sent me a few even worse texts, telling me what he wanted to do with me. I stupidly, idiotically sent a picture I never should have taken in the first place. I passed out and in my shame, I pretended it never happened the next morning. Neither of us brought it up, and I foolishly told myself that this meant things could be okay. That I could tell this man 'no', and the one word would suffice.

And one day, I had some free time. He worked right across my place of work, and he called me, inviting me over if I was done for the day. I knew myself to be strong. "No" is enough. He made me a nice little meal, asked me to make myself comfortable, and talked about subjects that interested me. On the second visit to his house, he fed me again, tended to my frustrations by letting me vent about work stuff, and asked me if he could give me a foot massage. It was odd, but I wanted to prove that nothing could happen between us, and although I implied it made me uncomfortable, he insisted. the massage was certainly awkward, but it was simply a foot massage and bath. Aside from him telling me he wished I were his to spoil and take care of, nothing was too terribly amiss. I heaved a small sigh of relief as he slid my socks back on my feet without touching anything else or asking for more.

At that point, I told myself the biggest lie any girl can tell herself: I'm secure. This is okay. He won't try anything other than his words. I felt a false sense of security, and when he asked for help in spreading his mattress cover, I ignored the hairs on the back of my neck.
I can't... go into detail about it. Part of me wants to, and part of me dies inside even thinking about it. The man pushed me down on the bed face forward, and in shock, I scrambled back to my feet, trying to assess the situation. He pushed me down again, but climbed on top of me.

He was stronger than me.

I begged, cried, and screamed. I tried to fight him physically. Two hours of fighting him on the bed was followed by an hour of me trying to scramble away, and him crawling after me and grabbing me again. Against a wall, on a chair...I almost fell down the stairs trying to get away from him as he pinned me down. I can only look up at the sky and thank God that I managed to keep my clothes on for the full four hours. There was no penetration, but with what I physically felt... what he physically did..... I FELT invaded in more than one way. He called me names and insulted me... even called me selfish... Oddly enough, that more than anything he said bothered me. Me...selfish..... I really had been, hadn't I? I wanted a friend so badly.. I wanted those sweet little nothings even when I knew them to be a trap....... I wanted them so badly, that I put myself in danger. I was so selfish that I spit on the sanctity of my marriage and my moral beliefs.

I didn't yell at the man. I didn't attack him once it was all over. I didn't threaten him or report him to the police. I walked out, got in my car, parked in the police lot, and watched people walk by as I fought tears. People get mad at me and ask why I didn't report the man, and I have to retort, How could I in good conscience? I knew what the man 'felt' for me... I knew his intents... I had heard all the smooth lies. I then goaded him with pictures and intimate thoughts that should only ever be heard by my husband. Heck, the man probably even thought I was enjoying myself.

Let me re-iterate: I am NOT looking for sympathy or pity.
It wasn't a lone incident.

Yes, I was stupid enough to let it happen again. About a week later, I was trapped in the city. I had no way to leave and the city was on lockdown, so nobody could come get me. I had no money, and I didn't know anybody. I didn't want to stay in the below-freezing snow, and work had kept me up the night prior. It was with trepidation that I texted the man who assaulted me the week before. I asked him if I could sleep in his spare bedroom, under the exception that he not even flirt with me... much less even touched me. He promised, I didn't trust him, but I went over anyways, and collapsed in exhaustion.

He asked if he could commit certain acts and I kept telling him no. But he was insistent, and this time... he pinned me down and got me shirtless. And after a short struggle, he was bottomless, and he held me in place and tried to force me to watch him do a horrible thing. Although it was much too late to reclaim any of my dignity or self-respect, I found a way out as soon as he let me go. I haven't talked to the man sense, but I think about what happened a lot.

I'm not writing this so that people will argue with me and tell me I wasn't at fault. To say that I wasn't at fault is to be stubbornly blind to the truth. I never imagined myself to let slick words draw me into such a situation, and what I did was a terrible, terrible thing. What he did was even worse.

I am writing this in the desperate hope... that some of you will watch out for our young ladies with a little more conviction. Watch for signs of loneliness, depression, lack of self confidence.... and seek to alleviate those feelings in safe ways. We need to protect who we can, and disband this idea that pain from such tragedies .. for a few moments filled with adrenaline, is worth the risk.

As a side note... it's odd to note that as I press forward, the memory is becoming more painful... not less. Where I once solely felt some disgust and shock, I'm starting to feel a pain I can't even begin to describe. It hurts to be around the people I love, to receive hugs from co-workers, or to even think about making friends. Each time someone wants to be friendly, it's a reminder of what happened. I feel myself wanting to talk less and less, and I feel so very ashamed and disgusted at the situation I put myself in. On one hand, I suppose it's helping me grow. I feel lonely, but it's a different kind of lonely. I don't feel it's a necessity to forge relationships that might not be safe, and I feel more cautious. For every benefit I might have gained, however, I lost more.

I felt a similar way after coming clean to my family about my sex and porn addiction.  I felt relieved, but the guilt still wasn't completely gone.  I had to re-focus my life, and have to do it every day.  It is still something I struggle with, but I have learned to forgive myself and others for not forgiving me and trusting me again, even after I have proved myself to them.  You may never fully overcome this obstacle of yours in your lifetime.  But healing can and will come, if you let it.  Forgive yourself and others.  Let your guilt push you towards peace, not towards false guilt and blame.  That is the true purpose of guilt.  True guilt is a feeling that your spirit after you mess up, telling you to do better.  It is not something that puts shame or blame upon you, that will only be done by yourself or others.  

And for your final statement, I know the feeling.  I feel as if I will never be able to go back to the carefree child I was again.  My sorrows and my joys are all magnified now.  But although I can't go back, I can use the knowledge I have gained to help others avoid the same problems I've gone through.  

You spoiled your marriage, that's true.  But spoiled food can be used as fertilizer, causing those things it is used for to grow.  If you turn this into a learning experience, and help others with this knowledge, you can begin anew.  It takes time, but it can happen.