Pretty sure this women just accidentally admitted to rape while telling her rape story

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I was at my favorite bar recently, just a few blocks from my apartment, when the boy who raped me came over to say hello and give me a kiss on the cheek.

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It has been over a decade since I was raped, and the boy who did it is now a man. We haven’t lived in the same state since college. In all likelihood, he doesn’t think about me at all, while I have relived the moment he shoved himself inside me without my consent over and over for years, as though replaying it one more time will let me go back in time and stop this from happening to me.

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I never felt compelled to share my story before, because it is so unremarkable, so common, because so many women have been through worse. I dated him afterward. Part of the encounter was consensual. We had both been drinking, him far more than me. I thought maybe he didn’t know what he was doing, and later didn’t remember (an idea the men in my life whom I’ve told, and whom I love and trust, have dismissed). And so I didn’t think there was anything to report. But watching Dr. Blasey’s story threaten to upend the confirmation of a Supreme Court nominee, with her staring down the most powerful men in the country with her pain, has made me rethink this.

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