In a nontraditional arrangement, I cohabitate with the father of my child; although we are not married, we maintain a close relationship, despite the fact that our romantic feelings have faded. Recently, he expressed his disappointment about receiving temporary duty assignment orders that would take him away from San Diego. I struggled to hide my unease while a dark secret loomed over me: I had been date-raped by someone I once considered a friend, who, as far as I knew, was still living in San Diego.
Rationally, I understood that San Diego is vast, and the likelihood of him being close to my daughter was minimal. Still, I wasn’t willing to take that chance. To find out more, I resorted to the only method I knew: I researched him on Facebook.
The dread I felt imagining my daughter in the same city as my assailant was overwhelming. My heart sank further when I discovered that not only had he relocated there, but he was living just a 30-minute drive away. He was attending the college I was considering for my PharmD, located only a mile from my daughter’s Kindermusik class.
Flashbacks flooded my mind, taking me back to those harrowing moments. I first met him during my military service. Let’s call him Matt. Initially, he was just a friend of a mutual acquaintance, and as a naive 19-year-old, I mistakenly believed it was fine to have male friends. At over six feet tall and muscular, he was undeniably attractive, and he made no secret of his love for drinking and casual encounters.
However, as I spent more time with him, discomfort grew. He often made inappropriate comments about my body, and his remarks about women and even children were alarming. He once showed me a photo of a chubby baby, making a comment about her appearance that made my skin crawl. I felt trapped; my peers dismissed my concerns, and our command held him in high regard for his athletic achievements and academic performance. I felt I had no choice but to endure his behavior.
Things escalated as his 25th birthday approached when a mutual friend alerted me that Matt had stated he would like to double-team me with him. Furious and confused, I confronted him, but he denied it. Later, that friend revealed Matt had angrily confronted him about sharing our conversation, making me feel betrayed for simply seeking clarity. Despite my reluctance, I attended his birthday party, pressured into being the designated driver.
The evening took a dark turn. After a trip to a strip club, we ended up at a friend’s apartment. As night fell, he crept into my sleeping space and began to molest me. I pushed him away repeatedly, but he only became more aggressive. Eventually, I escaped to another room, where thankfully, another man’s presence deterred him.
The next morning, I dreaded facing him. I debated leaving but feared repercussions for abandoning my role as a driver. I naïvely tried to wake him, hoping alcohol had clouded his judgment. However, he again attempted to take control, and I, exhausted and small in stature, reluctantly acquiesced, thinking compliance would bring peace. It didn’t.
Months later, after distancing myself from our group, Matt reached out and suggested meeting up. I made my boundaries clear, but he lied about the presence of the guy I had seen, and we went out alone. Despite my insistence on leaving early, he pressured me into drinking, and I soon found myself back at my apartment, where we had sex. The next day, he insisted I keep it a secret, threatening me with the consequences of underage drinking and labeling me a “slut.” I complied, even after testing positive for chlamydia, convinced I had somehow led him on.
The emotional fallout from his betrayal haunted me, affecting my future relationships and now my thoughts about my young daughter. I found myself scrolling through his social media, hoping for signs of change. However, he remained the same, sharing videos of drunken escapades with friends from our past. The only notable difference was his newfound involvement in charity work and pursuit of a master’s degree. Had I not known his dark side, he might have appeared admirable.
I contemplated writing an anonymous letter to his academic program, driven by the desire for justice. Yet as I drafted it, self-doubt crept in. My words felt more like an angry outcry than a call for accountability. With identifiers scattered throughout, I worried about the potential repercussions, especially for my family. A Reddit thread I discovered echoed my fears, reminding me that my desire for action stemmed more from a thirst for revenge than a quest for justice.
Now, I grapple with the question: what do you do when your attacker lives so close to home? Sharing my story has been a journey of self-reflection, but ultimately, I remain focused on my daughter’s safety. All I can do is advise her father to keep his distance from Matt, even if I’m not yet ready to disclose the reasons why.
Conclusion
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Summary
The article details the harrowing experience of a woman, who, after being date-raped by a man she considered a friend, discovers he has moved nearby. As she navigates her feelings of fear and anger for her daughter’s safety, she grapples with the decision to confront her past and the consequences it may have on her family. Ultimately, she seeks to protect her child while coming to terms with her trauma.