I was drunk. It was not my fault… Was it?


My friends call me the life of the party. They say I own the club and I liked to believe them. I play the game, always drink too much, forget most of the night, and end up on everyone’s videos. I dress to impress, and by that I mean I show a lot of skin. But it’s fine, it’s a club, pretty much all of the girls dress like I do. So boys stare. Men touch. And the most disgusting of them go too far.

I can’t even tell you what he looked like, what was his name. I don’t even know how his mouth felt on mine because I was so numb. I am actually surprised I could even stand. But when his finger entered my vagina, my whole body went stiff. It felt like an ice bucket had just been thrown at my face. I couldn’t move. It felt so wrong, so dirty. I don’t know if the sober me would have pushed him away, but my drunk-self simply closed her eyes and waited until it was over. I was just hoping no one on the dance floor would see what was going on and that I could escape without things getting worse. When he stopped, he took my hand and pressed it against his genitals. But now I was awake, as if all the alcohol had dissipated in a second. I guess it was a mix of adrenaline and survival instinct. I grabbed my friend by the arm and begged her to go. She later told me that the guy she was dancing with had done the same thing to her, but she didn’t make a big deal out of it. I did. I cried, mostly because I was drunk, but also because I thought I was a slut, an easy girl, someone weak.

It took me days to understand I had been sexually assaulted and weeks to stop feeling this guy’s finger down there. I wish I could have forgotten that night like I forget all the good ones.