I 21M was raped late into my high school career. Traumatized to this day and honestly just need to get my story off my chest.

I’m not really sure what I’m looking for by posting this story of mine. For the most part, I’ve tried to put my past behind me and “keep right on”... until the end of the road. Well here I am, tired and weary, needing to just get my story and past off my chest. I know I’m risking a lot posting this on a site like Reddit but honestly.. whatever happens, happens.

Typing it all out may be all I need. I mean eventually I’ll get to end and perhaps decide not to click the “Post” button.

Before you even ask, yes I’ve sought and gotten some sort of professional help for what I’ve been through. I been to a few therapists, doctors, psychiatrists, support groups, you name it. The only real place i received any acceptance (which is all that I really want) was in a smaller support group but even then I often felt like the odd man out and not taken as seriously. Like my case wasn’t worthy enough to be considered serious or something like that.

I told my mother most of what happened because she’s one of the closest people I have in my life and the person who birthed me. She took it better than I expected honestly but it was.. I mean there’s only so much you can say before you feel like you’re revealing too much.

I’ve told others outside of professional sources. Most sidestepped the idea or mostly downplayed (not being taken serious is a HUGE ISSUE FOLKS) it all as something I “just wasn’t into at the time” or a bad, drunken night out I misremembered.

A bad night out.. yea you could say that.

Fucking hell. I’ve kept it under lock and key for too long now. It’s itched at me for too long now so fuck it. Please be patient with me.

I'm a 21 (soon to be 22) year old man , and about 3 years ago, I was raped by a woman.

Before my rape I was kind of the quiet loner kid at school. Rather shy (unless I knew you), quiet, polite, a good worker and just someone who kept his head down and did his best to get through high school. Despite minding my own business, I was bullied pretty heavily.

Being somewhat of a outsider (moved to the district in 4th grade after everyone pretty much knew each other) and of a lower class (working class kid vs upper middle) than everyone else while not being particularly gifted in the popular activities (sports) didn’t exactly do me any favors. For whatever reason they wanted though, I was bullied both physically and emotionally throughout high school. It wasn’t universal by any means, I still had a few friends despite my “status”, but I def got my fair share of bullies.

After my rape? The same. Except with a bit of humiliation and underlying jokes added on.

Shit just that bit of my life Is rather traumatizing enough. It’s one that’s honestly a blur and something I’ve slowly tried to forget but it is a big part of my life, primarily because of all the consequences it brought me.

I mean it sucked. Being bullied for any reason sucks. Don’t get me wrong, I fought back eventually, often physically. Yet, even if I won the fight or verbally got them to stop, I often just felt so helpless.

I felt that same helpless feeling when I was raped. I still feel it from time to time first.

I was just an innocent 18 year old when it occurred. An innocent senior in high school. An innocent young adult male who’s first real experience with intimacy was one of the worst of his life.

Despite being a shy and quiet loner in high school, I kept myself in pretty good shape. While I by no means matched the football or wrestling players, I had (still an accurate description) what most people called a shorter version of Ryan Gosling look wise. Except with broader shoulders, and a bit muscular. Make of that what you will.

Despite my “loner” status, I still managed to have a few friends I could turn to in high school. All were friends from childhood who’s family stayed connected over the years, Despite most growing and going our separate ways. High school, teenage friends, Friday night sports game watching. What does that mean? Parties.

Yea I went to parties/dances alone sometimes. Have to break the shell at some point right?

One of my friends was on the wrestling team and one night, after one of the final matches of the season, we decide to head over to party being thrown for his birthday. High school parties mean shitty drinking. Especially if it’s for a birthday of your best mate.

Now I’m not one to get blackout drunk or sloshed until I’m puking my guts out. I knew what it’s like to be around alcoholics so I never was someone (still am not) to get hammered. In hindsight, I’ll admit, I had an extra drink than I should’ve that night. One which started this whole ordeal.

Party at the house was winding down. Mix of older high schoolers and young college kids (freshman or early enrolles) there finishing up as some people made their way out the door and others (about 5. Wasn’t a movie party or anything), mostly too drunk, started crashing wherever they could find a spot.

Everything’s a bit hazy at this point in my memory but i vaguely remember taking a few more swigs out of the glass I was working on before asking my bud if it was alright use his spare bedroom to crash for the night. Naturally, he agreed since both he and I knew I was too done to go anywhere. Could’ve stumbled home but too late now isn’t it..

Everyone’s had that nightmare right? Where you feel like you’re trapped, unable to move, bound by a unbreakable force, against your will.

I wake up to that nightmare.

It took me a while to realize it. Well to be honest it took me more than awhile to comprehend everything. Why was I on my back? I almost never sleep on my back. Who’s hands were touching me and why was the nightlight I had on turned off.

I make a futile attempt to sit up, only to find my hands bound by my sides. I make an attempt to buck up and use my feet, only to find them too restrained.

I remember trying to scream for help, only to find a gag, unnoticed through the haze, covering my mouth. With it being dark and my vision being hazy due to the effects of alcohol and...whatever else.. all I had to go off in my defense was feeling.

I felt helpless. Bound against my will, being touched intimately against my wishes and unaware of what completely was happened.

I remember slipping in and out of consciousness a lot. Most of what happened after is hazy and comes only in small bursts of memory from time to time. Long Brown hair, feminine hands stroking me, clothes being tugged/ripped off. Someone straddling me, being touched, feminine hair touching places it shouldn’t and restraints being tightened. Also music, not loud, but enough to hide the noise I managed to make.

I remember waking up sometime early in the morning. Restraints gone and the music still going. Whoever was with me...gone. I remember reaching down, realizing how sore and tender both my midsection and penis were. How a smell of fluids still hung over the room and how everything just felt.. different.

After waking up I knew I was finished with everything I had to do with that room and the house. I get dressed and sloppily go home, my head a whirlwind of emotions, confusion, thoughts and deep down, pain.

I spend the rest of the weekend in confusion and a bit of a haze, only one of my own doing now. What the fuck just happened? The drinks. The music. The restraints. The hand. Body on top of me. Those foreign feelings. What happened?

I went back to school that Monday. It was near the end of the year so more people were out and about thus providing more chances for interaction. The day was going so far so good until gym class rolls around and the rumors started to fly. About me.

It all kind of felt like punishment honestly. Like I deserved all the rumors, sly comments and humiliation I received as I finished up my senior year of high school and into my freshman year. My rapist, who I never positively identified (made the mistake of showering right away and not pursuing help ASAP), spread all kinds of rumors about my body, penis size, etc as tried to move on with life.

I’m a male victim of a rapist. That alone humiliates me. I couldn’t defend myself. I put myself in harms way by drinking irresponsibly and was unable to stop it from happening.

I grew up. I moved (or well tried) on. I attended counseling, I went to a few support groups (most didn’t take me seriously and when they did were pretty negative with their approaches for helping/coping. I tried to drink it away, I tried run away from it. I stuck myself in my room for a year, and dropped out of college (more reasons than that tbh. College wasn’t for me). I’ve battled the pain ever since.

It’s always the same bullshit, no matter who I’ve talked to. They don't believe me, doubt the severity of my story and ask Weather I just wasn’t into that particular kink yet (I’m not.).

I did not want this. I did not like it. I didn’t want the pain, the humiliation and tears it brought me. Despite all my efforts, I’ve always felt that no one really has ever taken me or my struggles seriously . Only one woman has ever carried enough to listen to me tell it all. She rejected me after the pants came.

I’ve made attempts to move on. From the outside looking in, i for the most part have my life in order. Stable long term job, in great physical shape, saving money and making an effort to save up for an apartment/house right now. I’ve worked so hard to get where I’m at right now, yet these demons continue to haunt me. I continue to feel so alone and so helpless. Trapped with all these pent of emotions and no shoulder to cry on.

Even if no one cares to read, which I sincerely hope you do, I do feel better writing this post. Even if I wake up in a few hours and decide to delete this, I’ve finally told my story. It’s something I should’ve done a long time ago. Hopefully someone is kind enough to acknowledge me now.

Thank you.

Submitted April 15, 2019 at 05:25AM

I’m not really sure what I’m looking for by posting this story of mine. For the most part, I’ve tried to put my past behind me and “keep right on”... until the end of the road. Well here I am, tired and weary, needing to just get my story and past off my chest. I know I’m risking a lot posting this on a site like Reddit but honestly.. whatever happens, happens.Typing it all out may be all I need. I mean eventually I’ll get to end and perhaps decide not to click the “Post” button.Before you even ask, yes I’ve sought and gotten some sort of professional help for what I’ve been through. I been to a few therapists, doctors, psychiatrists, support groups, you name it. The only real place i received any acceptance (which is all that I really want) was in a smaller support group but even then I often felt like the odd man out and not taken as seriously. Like my case wasn’t worthy enough to be considered serious or something like that.I told my mother most of what happened because she’s one of the closest people I have in my life and the person who birthed me. She took it better than I expected honestly but it was.. I mean there’s only so much you can say before you feel like you’re revealing too much.I’ve told others outside of professional sources. Most sidestepped the idea or mostly downplayed (not being taken serious is a HUGE ISSUE FOLKS) it all as something I “just wasn’t into at the time” or a bad, drunken night out I misremembered.A bad night out.. yea you could say that.Fucking hell. I’ve kept it under lock and key for too long now. It’s itched at me for too long now so fuck it. Please be patient with me.I'm a 21 (soon to be 22) year old man , and about 3 years ago, I was raped by a woman.Before my rape I was kind of the quiet loner kid at school. Rather shy (unless I knew you), quiet, polite, a good worker and just someone who kept his head down and did his best to get through high school. Despite minding my own business, I was bullied pretty heavily.Being somewhat of a outsider (moved to the district in 4th grade after everyone pretty much knew each other) and of a lower class (working class kid vs upper middle) than everyone else while not being particularly gifted in the popular activities (sports) didn’t exactly do me any favors. For whatever reason they wanted though, I was bullied both physically and emotionally throughout high school. It wasn’t universal by any means, I still had a few friends despite my “status”, but I def got my fair share of bullies.After my rape? The same. Except with a bit of humiliation and underlying jokes added on.Shit just that bit of my life Is rather traumatizing enough. It’s one that’s honestly a blur and something I’ve slowly tried to forget but it is a big part of my life, primarily because of all the consequences it brought me.I mean it sucked. Being bullied for any reason sucks. Don’t get me wrong, I fought back eventually, often physically. Yet, even if I won the fight or verbally got them to stop, I often just felt so helpless.I felt that same helpless feeling when I was raped. I still feel it from time to time first.I was just an innocent 18 year old when it occurred. An innocent senior in high school. An innocent young adult male who’s first real experience with intimacy was one of the worst of his life.Despite being a shy and quiet loner in high school, I kept myself in pretty good shape. While I by no means matched the football or wrestling players, I had (still an accurate description) what most people called a shorter version of Ryan Gosling look wise. Except with broader shoulders, and a bit muscular. Make of that what you will.Despite my “loner” status, I still managed to have a few friends I could turn to in high school. All were friends from childhood who’s family stayed connected over the years, Despite most growing and going our separate ways. High school, teenage friends, Friday night sports game watching. What does that mean? Parties.Yea I went to parties/dances alone sometimes. Have to break the shell at some point right?One of my friends was on the wrestling team and one night, after one of the final matches of the season, we decide to head over to party being thrown for his birthday. High school parties mean shitty drinking. Especially if it’s for a birthday of your best mate.Now I’m not one to get blackout drunk or sloshed until I’m puking my guts out. I knew what it’s like to be around alcoholics so I never was someone (still am not) to get hammered. In hindsight, I’ll admit, I had an extra drink than I should’ve that night. One which started this whole ordeal.Party at the house was winding down. Mix of older high schoolers and young college kids (freshman or early enrolles) there finishing up as some people made their way out the door and others (about 5. Wasn’t a movie party or anything), mostly too drunk, started crashing wherever they could find a spot.Everything’s a bit hazy at this point in my memory but i vaguely remember taking a few more swigs out of the glass I was working on before asking my bud if it was alright use his spare bedroom to crash for the night. Naturally, he agreed since both he and I knew I was too done to go anywhere. Could’ve stumbled home but too late now isn’t it..Everyone’s had that nightmare right? Where you feel like you’re trapped, unable to move, bound by a unbreakable force, against your will.I wake up to that nightmare.It took me a while to realize it. Well to be honest it took me more than awhile to comprehend everything. Why was I on my back? I almost never sleep on my back. Who’s hands were touching me and why was the nightlight I had on turned off.I make a futile attempt to sit up, only to find my hands bound by my sides. I make an attempt to buck up and use my feet, only to find them too restrained.I remember trying to scream for help, only to find a gag, unnoticed through the haze, covering my mouth. With it being dark and my vision being hazy due to the effects of alcohol and...whatever else.. all I had to go off in my defense was feeling.I felt helpless. Bound against my will, being touched intimately against my wishes and unaware of what completely was happened.I remember slipping in and out of consciousness a lot. Most of what happened after is hazy and comes only in small bursts of memory from time to time. Long Brown hair, feminine hands stroking me, clothes being tugged/ripped off. Someone straddling me, being touched, feminine hair touching places it shouldn’t and restraints being tightened. Also music, not loud, but enough to hide the noise I managed to make.I remember waking up sometime early in the morning. Restraints gone and the music still going. Whoever was with me...gone. I remember reaching down, realizing how sore and tender both my midsection and penis were. How a smell of fluids still hung over the room and how everything just felt.. different.After waking up I knew I was finished with everything I had to do with that room and the house. I get dressed and sloppily go home, my head a whirlwind of emotions, confusion, thoughts and deep down, pain.I spend the rest of the weekend in confusion and a bit of a haze, only one of my own doing now. What the fuck just happened? The drinks. The music. The restraints. The hand. Body on top of me. Those foreign feelings. What happened?I went back to school that Monday. It was near the end of the year so more people were out and about thus providing more chances for interaction. The day was going so far so good until gym class rolls around and the rumors started to fly. About me.It all kind of felt like punishment honestly. Like I deserved all the rumors, sly comments and humiliation I received as I finished up my senior year of high school and into my freshman year. My rapist, who I never positively identified (made the mistake of showering right away and not pursuing help ASAP), spread all kinds of rumors about my body, penis size, etc as tried to move on with life.I’m a male victim of a rapist. That alone humiliates me. I couldn’t defend myself. I put myself in harms way by drinking irresponsibly and was unable to stop it from happening.I grew up. I moved (or well tried) on. I attended counseling, I went to a few support groups (most didn’t take me seriously and when they did were pretty negative with their approaches for helping/coping. I tried to drink it away, I tried run away from it. I stuck myself in my room for a year, and dropped out of college (more reasons than that tbh. College wasn’t for me). I’ve battled the pain ever since.It’s always the same bullshit, no matter who I’ve talked to. They don't believe me, doubt the severity of my story and ask Weather I just wasn’t into that particular kink yet (I’m not.).I did not want this. I did not like it. I didn’t want the pain, the humiliation and tears it brought me. Despite all my efforts, I’ve always felt that no one really has ever taken me or my struggles seriously . Only one woman has ever carried enough to listen to me tell it all. She rejected me after the pants came.I’ve made attempts to move on. From the outside looking in, i for the most part have my life in order. Stable long term job, in great physical shape, saving money and making an effort to save up for an apartment/house right now. I’ve worked so hard to get where I’m at right now, yet these demons continue to haunt me. I continue to feel so alone and so helpless. Trapped with all these pent of emotions and no shoulder to cry on.Even if no one cares to read, which I sincerely hope you do, I do feel better writing this post. Even if I wake up in a few hours and decide to delete this, I’ve finally told my story. It’s something I should’ve done a long time ago. Hopefully someone is kind enough to acknowledge me now.Thank you.