This article has proven difficult not only to write, but even to decide whether to write and publish it. For one thing, I have a personal investment in the topic of sexual assault, as I shall relate briefly; and for another, I wish to express my support for women, but in a manner that they see as proper.
My experience of sexual aggression has ranged from the violence of getting beaten up when I was 19 and he was 20, to the shame of forcible intercourse with a woman over my strenuous objections (yes, it’s possible), to the nuisance of unwanted touching and physical advances that are more easily rebuffed.
The first two instances involved someone that I loved. This made the incidents at the time—and continues to make the memory of them even now—all the more painful a wound. As the decades pass, one doesn’t dwell consciously on these memories day and night; but neither does the wound entirely go away, and one never knows when and why the visuals will resurface in the mind’s eye, unbidden and without warning. You simply don’t “get over it,” no matter how much you might like to. It remains a “big deal” for the rest of your life, even if buried most of the time in your subconscious.
Here are two true stories of male vs. female sexual assault, the first related to me by the victim, whom I’ll call “Sandra,” and the second by the perpetrator, whom I’ll call “Paul.” Read More