ramble · sexual abuse · sexual assault

1am rambles about shitty boys and moustached stalkers (TW:sexual assault)

Tonight has been a bit of a reminiscence session.
I started out on an old friend’s profile, looking at photos from 7 years ago, most of them involving alcohol and somebody’s garden or a park.
Then i remembered that i haven’t visited RYL in a really long time. RYL (or RecoverYourLife.com) is a forum for anyone struggling with self harm or their mental health. I used it a lot from 2010-2013, so much so that my journal is in the ‘Top Viewed’, ‘Most Commented’ and ‘Most Entries’ categories. It was a space for me to vent my thoughts in private as only 2 people who knew me in real life also knew my username.
My last entry was from January 2015. I spoke about how i was excited to be going to Florida later that year (lol) and that although i was happier, i wasn’t really “happy”, just content. Reading that gave me the weird disconnected-but-familiar feeling, as though i’m viewing that version of me through a haze of smoke.
That’s the usual feeling i get when trying to remember how i felt in the past. I can only clearly remember very specific events.

Anyway, i carried on reading and got to an entry from 2013 describing how my friends were trying to set me up with somebody called Ben. Woah, serious case of repressed memories there! I did end up meeting Ben, on a night out with said friends to be specific. Nothing happened in town, i’m not even convinced we kissed to be honest… Anyway, we headed back to the girl’s house we were all staying at and carried on drinking. I was preeeetty hammered at this point, like i’m surprised i hadn’t passed out! Fast forward about an hour and somebody waltzes through the front door. Guess who! Ben of course! This sounds a lot weirder than it is, i forgot to mention he was actually friends with our host and had been round her house in the past.
So he comes in and everyone’s looking at each other grinning, and they move into the conservatory to give us “time to get to know each other”. Now bear in mind, the main reason i didn’t follow them was because i couldn’t actually move unassisted. Yes it was very irresponsible of me to get that wasted in the first place, but i was expecting to be able to sleep it off on the sofa unaccompanied.
He came over to where i was slumped in the chair and started kissing me. I kissed him back – after all, i did find him semi-attractive and kissing wasn’t something i was adverse to. He grabbed hand and pulled, asking me to go with him. I’m pretty sure i giggled and said “nooo i’m sitting down”, or something to that effect, but he hoisted me up and led me upstairs. I dutifully followed, half stumbling, half dragged to the host’s bedroom.

I won’t go into details, in all honesty it’s making me cringe thinking about it.
But the long and short of it is; we had sex.

The host’s partner came into the room after a few minutes, laughed at us and went back downstairs to tell the host. She shortly stormed in and shouted at us for having sex in her bed. Ben left and i went back to the sofa, where i sat upset and confused at what had happened. Eventually, she came back into the living room (having raged at our friends in the conservatory about my complete lack of respect) and we spoke about it, i apologised and we made up.

It took me a long time to realise that it wasn’t “sex”, or at least not consensual sex.
I was too drunk to give consent, not to mention i blacked out several times during the actual act, so i wasn’t even fully conscious.
I’m pretty sure Ben didn’t walk away thinking he had just sexually assaulted somebody – even at the time i didn’t. I classed it as a grey area. Of course the reality is there isn’t a grey area. You either give consent/are able to give consent, or you don’t/cannot give consent.

On a less serious note, i’m having a very amusing conversation with Janine about “my list”. Last year i made a list with the names of the people i’d slept with as a way of keeping track, just incase i ever needed them! Plus i didn’t want to be one of those people who, when asked for their “number”, had to fess up to not remembering who they had been intimate with.
Ironically, it turned out that both me and Janine had forgotten 2 of the people on my list from last year…so we came up with the brilliant idea to include descriptions.
My personal favourites are: “old man clothes”, “moustached stalker” and “mental long haired scouser”, hahahaha!

Night all

L x


app review · backmeapp · feminism · rape culture · review · sexual assault

“BackMeApp” by Always and my thoughts

So there i was, waiting for a “Three Year Time Lapse Hair Growth” video to load when an advert came on (as is the case with Youtube these days). I hovered the mouse over the ‘skip ad’ button and waited for the 5 seconds to pass so i could press it, but then i didn’t.
The advert was for an app called BackMeApp by Always/P&G and it’s an app for when it’s late at night and you’re on your own, you log the route you’re going to take, pick a friend to accept the connection and they get a notification saying you’re in trouble if you detour from your route or if you stay in the same place for more than 2 minutes. According to the advert, it was first brought out in Israel and they are now offering it in different countries.

As somebody who is paranoid of strangers and works until late, i think this is a fantastic idea for an app and i can’t wait to try it. I’m not sure if it’s made it to England yet but i’m going to check on the app store after i’ve published this and if not, keep my ears peeled for release dates.

I find it quite disturbing that i live in a world where i can’t go home after work on the bus without worrying about getting attacked. The amount of women i’ve met over my lifetime who have been sexually assaulted is crazy, it’s a very real threat. Combating this is not going to happen overnight so in the meantime all we can do is come up with brilliant new ideas like this one that help prevent dangerous situations. I really hope this app will become a staple for all late night travellers and nightclub goers. Safe is most definitely better than sorry.