My Rape Isn’t About You

In 2001 I dated a man who was studying to be a pastor at Dallas Baptist University. I felt good about myself, had been working out, building myself up to be a stronger me, and wanted to date a good guy for a change. Four months into our relationship I went to his place for a dinner of Chinese food and maybe a PG-rated make-out session, and that night he raped me. It’s been eighteen years since that night, and I still remember every single detail as vividly as if it had just happened. Eighteen years, so much therapy, my entire life flipped upside down, life on strong anti-depressants, more…