This ties back in to what I was saying earlier both about the article I mentioned as well as F’s disquieting demeanor. Now, I think that if I were not asleep but rather just intoxicated and started to fool around with the also-inebriated F, I would not be able to wake up regretting my actions the next day and claim that, in some way, I had been violated. This is where I feel that both genders should be held to the same accountability and granted the same amount of leeway. I don’t think it’s fair that two people under the same or similar influence should be held to disparagingly diverse standards based solely on whether or not they have something dangling between their legs. I truly believe that it is quite relative to specific situations and should not be a wide net cast over the topic in general.
However, as I mentioned earlier, there was always something wrong with F. It was something you could feel – a tangible malformation of his personality. We weren’t two drunkards f*cking around. I was a girl, napping innocently amongst friends, wearing boots, jeans, and a winter jacket, and F had done everything he could to further my instability making sure that he could do as he pleased with me. I found out at some later point that he had woken the others to go home, informing them that, given that I lived so close to him, he would just walk me home when I woke up.
I will not go on further in detail about what happened. There is still some part of my actions that I have a great deal of trouble coming to terms with, and I would rather not explore my feelings on this very public forum. This is neither the time nor place.
Notwithstanding, I very abruptly stopped frequenting this group. Though it was not a direct result of this occurrence, I, happily, moved across the City to another apartment. I never spoke about what happened to me, and I think it was hard for my friends – with whom I had grown so close in such a short amount of time – to understand why I alienated myself with no explanation. I suppose I just thought that, although they never seemed so fond of F, they were his friends first and, as such, they would never believe or that it would not matter if they did. And, again, I had not even begun to work through my feelings of guilt and acceptance that something had happened to me rather than my causing it to happen.
And I just couldn’t stand to have to face F as if nothing had happened. I doubt that he felt any sort of remorse to begin with, but nevertheless, I refused to excuse his guilt by pretending that it was okay. I’m still working through it today, so I hope it still hangs heavy over him.
I doubt it, though.