TO THE WAITER WITH NO NAME…
I was inspired to put a different spin on my own sexual assault experience by the stories by H. Nemesis Nyx and Anna Now. I’ve felt so much vague feelings of shame and guilt during my life, that this was refreshing in its raw anger.
I’m sorry I let you rape me. It was all my fault.
I’m sorry I was only 15 - young and, to you, exotic-looking tourist. I was still round in the face and was ashamed of every inch of my being, but my figure had developed. Yeah sure, I was a virgin, having only ever kissed a girl. I had no friends, had been bullied half my life and had just spent 3 months hospitalized for depression, but.. I got boobs, so obviously I was mature enough.
I’m so, so sorry I smiled at you. I shouldn’t have put myself at such a risk by visiting a restaurant with my dad. You were a waiter, young but definitely an adult. What in God’s name made me think it was okay for me to look at you, let alone smile. I can get how you would think that gave you the right to force yourself on me.
I’m sorry I came back to you the same day. We were on a tour, and the bus stopped at the same restaurant a second time, so we could shower after swimming in the ocean. I went first and then wondered around the resort. I should’ve known to keep myself far away from a waiter I smiled at. You were with some friends, and when you saw me, you called me over. You spoke almost no English, so we didn’t really converse.
I’m sorry I followed you and your friends around the corner. I didn’t really know what was going on, you seemed either proud or . I was nervous but no guy had ever paid any attention to me before. We were standing outside, near a staircase, when you kissed me.
I’m sorry I kissed you back, that I didn’t immediately stop it, hate it, go off on rage. That was basically an invitation to my pussyland. It was a short kiss that was quickly broken off by your boss catching us. Your friend who spoke a little English ushered me off to hide in a nearby bathroom. My adrenaline was pumping.
I don’t know if I liked the kiss, but it was exciting, for that short moment, so that obviously means I wanted his cock. I thought that it was over, after a few minutes of hiding I came out. I didn’t know what was happening. The boss was mad, the friend was laughing, and suddenly you pulled me up the stairs.
I’m sorry I followed you to your room. I was confused, and after seeing that the big room full of bunk beds upstairs from the restaurant was completely empty, I got scared. We couldn’t talk to each other really. You knew what you wanted to happen, I wanted out.
I’m sorry I let you push me down on a bed. I tried to push you away. You acted like it was play. You laughed a little and stopped for a second before continuing.
I’m sorry I didn’t scream. It doesn’t even matter if it would have helped — everyone knows rape is sudden and violent and you fight with every inch of your being. Anything less than that basically makes me a slut.
I’m sorry I didn’t say NO enough times. How many dozen times did I, and how many more dozen would have done it? I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough. Couldn’t push you away and fight you off.
I said NO. You said please. I said NO. You said please. I said NO. You said I’m beautiful. I said NO. You took another cloth off. I said STOP. You said just a little bit. Just a little bit.
I was alone, trapped under you, until you eventually stopped. I was so relieved it was over that I just laid there. Then you decided we need to shower together. I’m sorry I let you take me somewhere again. You tried to get me to sit down on your dick in the shower but it was too difficult in the shower.
When you washed me and put clothes on me, I remember you tried to comb my hair somehow before we went outside. I was in such shock and denial that I actually thought that was a slight act of remorse. Now I realize he just wanted me to look like a good lay for his friends to show off to.
I’m sorry you had to pressure me so much. I should have just been nicer.
No wait, sorry. What I meant was.. you shouldn’t have raped me. PERIOD.
Here’s the truth, in all honesty: I’m sorry you got off scot-free.
That was 9 years ago. I only started dealing with the trauma 5 years ago. It still affects my life, in very real, constant ways. But this is the most thought I’ve directly given to HIM in quite a while. And he doesn’t deserve any more of my time. This — this was for ME.
