As many people may or may not have seen, there has been an exponential increase in exposure for the #MeToo Movement, which was actually started around ten years ago by Tarana Burke. When I heard that the movement was getting a lot of attention, I felt a little scared because I knew I wanted to share my story for real, but I didn't know how people would react or where exactly to put my story. What better place to be completely honest other than right here in an article. I know I'm a little late, but here it is.
In August of 2016, I had been dating my on again-off again, long distance boyfriend for roughly a year. For privacy purposes, we'll call him Andy. Andy and I hadn't been together all that often because he moved over a thousand miles away early in our relationship. We hadn't seen each other for a long time when he decided he was going to visit for my birthday. Considering we had just gotten back together, for what my friends swear was the billionth time, I was hesitant. The first day Andy arrived in my hometown, everything seemed to pick up right where it had left off. We were holding hands, laughing, sharing kisses and taking annoying "couple-y" pictures. Something seemed off though and I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I quickly figured out what it was in the coming days.
Andy was very physical. I hadn't really taken much notice before. But when I think back on it, he was always touching me and grabbing me in places that I really didn't want him to. Especially in public. When the first incident occurred we were at a Hollister clothing store in my local shopping mall with a friend of mine. Andy was grabbing me from behind every few seconds and he eventually pushed me into the darkest corner of the store.
My friend told him he was being creepy and he ignored her. He proceeded to try and put his hand down the front of my shorts. I tried to push him off of me and when he wouldn't budge, I loudly told him to stop. He told me I was making a scene and people were going to stare. I made eye contact with an employee who looked away as if she didn't see anything. My friend eventually managed to get him off of me and usher us out of the store. I left feeling humiliated.
The second incident happened at his grandmother's home. I had agreed to go over and help with yard work because his grandmother was frail and could not complete a lot of the work on her own. When I got there I was introduced to Andy's younger cousin who we will call Tanner. Tanner had a habit of hiding in things when he met new people. When he hid from me, we made a little game out of it. Andy and I searched the entire house top to bottom and couldn't find Tanner anywhere.
We decided to search the house again. When we got up to the attic the second time, Andy once again put his hand down the front of my shorts. I kept telling him to get off because we had to look for Tanner but this time he didn't give up. I was crying silently when I looked up and saw two green eyes staring at me from inside a broken cabinet. It was Tanner, and he was crying too.
The third incident happened a few days later. We had spent the morning helping out with a program at his grandparents' church. He didn't want me to go home yet and for some reason, I had myself convinced that I didn't want to go home yet either. Andy told his grandmother that we were going to go on a walk and get some ice cream, and I was okay with that. Until I realized that's not what he actually wanted. Andy took me into the woods, pulled out his genitals and asked me to touch them. I didn't. I just cried.
Later that day, was the fourth and final incident. I had managed to get Andy out of the woods and en route to the ice cream shop. We barely made it to the road when he came at me once again. This time, more than one person could see what was happening. Cars were driving past, drivers making eye contact with me. But no one stopped to help. I kept yelling "Please stop, people can see us" like a broken record until he gave up.
After that day, I went home and showered for an hour, scrubbing myself trying to be clean again and washing away blood until my skin was raw. I spent several weeks lying to my mother and my doctors about why I had scratches and infections in places I shouldn't. We dated for another four months. I can't even tell you why I stayed with him because, to be honest, I don't know. I waited months to tell anyone about it.
First, I told my older sister, then my best friend, then my new boyfriend, then my parents. Each one was more enraged and confused than the last. I wish I could settle their confusion, but to be honest, I'm still very confused myself. I have dealt with this secret for far too long. I am hoping that by saying "Me Too," it will shed some light on things for people. I want people to understand that being in a relationship does not mean consent and that being assaulted is not something you should have to recover from alone. Sexual assault is real, it is common, and it is time to bring it to attention.
