The Facebook page is down, but the story is this: Boston College runs a “confessions” page wherin people can “confess” to their various transgressions and sins and get some feedback. A few days ago, confession number 7122 (jeez, those Boston kids must be up to a whack of no good) went up.
The tl;dr summary is #7122 fucked two passed out drunk girls and forced another who was very drunk but not quite passed out.
And he liked it.
#7122: I’ve never told anyone this, but I can no longer hold it in. Being that I am not a very social guy, nor am I particularly good looking, girls don’t tend to flock my way, which can be very discouraging, especially at a time in my life when a lot of self worth is judged based on success with the opposite gender. I always think a girl likes me, but it always turns out that she is just infatuated with my best friend and roommate. I never told him this, but I thought that 3 out of the last 4 girls that he has dated were into me first. Two of them told me that they liked me, and one even kissed me; both of them were just playing with me though, just to get to him. I don’t blame him because it’s not his fault; I just wish that I didn’t have to get hurt by the girls he attracts. Anyway, as you can imagine, this left me rather depressed and lonely. I’ve never had a relationship, and up until college, the only girl I had kissed was the one who was toying with me. During the first few weeks at school, my friend kept telling me about all the girls that he was either hooking up with at parties or hanging out with during the week. Who had I gotten with? No one. By the end of the first semester, all I wanted was a real experience with a girl. Obviously, I wanted something sexual, actually I was craving something sexual, but when I would dream about girls at night, I only had visions of taking a girl on a date, and forming a real relationship. But who could love me? I’ve determined that I am not worth a girl’s time. And you can’t force a girl to love you. Or if you can, I haven’t figured it out yet. But regardless, my story isn’t about love. My story is about sex. My roommate, during the first week of the second semester, brought back two girls to the room. The three of them were really drunk. Being that I had to get up early the next day for a meeting, I decided not to drink that Friday night. Anyway, so at some point in time, my roommate and one of the girls went to her room, upstairs, and the other girl stayed in my room. I tried to entertain her, but she was very drunk and wasn’t being responsive. I told her just to lie in my roommate’s bed and get some rest. When I tried to lay her down, she pulled me closer, and I mistook her motion as an attempt to kiss me, so I kissed her. At first she resisted, but between her fatigue and disarray, she gave in to it. We had sex that night. I used one of my roommate’s condoms, but to my horror, when I finished, I came to the disturbing realization that she had passed out at some point during the experience. Did I just do what I think I did? The thought horrified me. I needed to talk to the girl about it in the morning when she woke up, just to clarify that it was never my intent to do that to her. I just got caught up in the moment. No girl has ever given me attention, so in this situation, I finally was able to get what I wanted. I put her clothes back on her (which was more difficult than you’d think) and tucked her into my roommate’s bed. When she woke up the next morning, she asked me who I was and why she was in my room. She had no recollection of the prior night. I was thankful, because this meant that I didn’t have to apologize. I told her that she came in with my roommate and passed out in his bed around 1 am. She thanked me for being a gentleman, which I chuckled at under my breath. For the next couple of weeks, all I could think about was what I did, and more importantly, how I got away with it. I see this girl all over campus, and she always says hi. She will never know what I did to her. At first this troubled me, but eventually, I became obsessed and almost proud of it. The thought clouded me head… could I get away with it again? Sure enough another opportunity came my way by the end of last semester. At a mod party, I was with a group of friends when one of my friends and his girlfriend both started to feel sick. My roommate was there and was able to get the guy back to his dorm, and I, being the only other competent person in the group, walked back my friend’s girlfriend to her room in 66. When I got her to her room, she puked in her trash can a bit and eventually passed out on her bed. Being that I was slightly drunk at this point, my judgment was compromised, and I did something that I am still ashamed of. I took advantage of her, and what troubles me is that I enjoyed every minute of it. It wasn’t until the moment that I finished, that I suddenly was struck with intense feelings of shame and remorse. But yet again, I had gotten away with it. I left an hour later when her roommate came in. I told her that I was just taking care of her and that was that. Hurriedly, I ran out of the building, but I didn’t go back to my room. I wondered to the reservoir, and in the thickets of a few trees, I cried myself to sleep. I couldn’t believe what I had become. I woke up in the morning to the sound of joggers. Embarrassed and hungover, I trudged back to my room. Over the summer, I sought out counseling, but when I told my parents that I needed someone to talk to, I could never tell them why, so I never got the help that I needed. When I came back here, I hoped that my desires would remain dormant, but we’ve been back at school for a month and I’ve already had another experience, and what trouble me is that this time, she wasn’t asleep. She was very drunk and I don’t know how much she remembers, but I forced her this time. I know I did. I’m scared for myself, and I worry about the girl. I don’t know what I should do. On the one hand, I know that I need to get help, but on the other hand, I can’t help but be driven to do it again. I have these self-consuming thoughts that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to control. What should I do?
Cue the ensuing shitstorm with thousands of ladies realizing “Holy shit that could be me! I have been that drunk and trusted a man to simply watch over me! I’ve woken up feeling grateful I had a man to ensure my safety! I’ve counted on men to protect me, even when they had no particular reason to do so! I’ve expected the Knight in Shining Armor to do his sworn duty and stand guard over my drunk, vulnerable body!”
This story interests me for two reasons in particular:
Women’s sense of entitlement to men’s protection
Rapists tend to be serial
The fallout is that a student admitted to writing the post, and he claims it was all a hoax. Okay, whatever. Hoax or not, it reveals some interesting things about #rapeculture, no?
Let’s start with this observation: women seem to genuinely believe they are entitled to the protection of men. I’m going to pull some comments out of the Jezebel post on this to illustrate what I mean.
It’s important to allow young men to act like utter dipshits without consequence, or else the status quo would change. And we can’t have that happening… Yesterday 12:05pm
Right. So women can act like utter dipshits without consequence, but men are always liable for their actions no matter what their state of intoxication. Pass out in a room full of people you don’t know, wake up with your iPhone and your wallet missing, and get called, quite rightly, an IDIOT.
There are thieves among us. And rapists, too. Avoiding the thieves requires a modicum of common sense that every adult is expected to display. So why isn’t avoiding rapists?
But it just seems too convenient that this schmuck had so many opportunities to rape unconscious or semi-conscious women. I don’t think I encountered three passed-out-dead to the world people in my whole college/law school career. Drunk, sure. Unconscious, no. That sounds more like bullshit to me than “opportunity.”
However, there is no question at all that this dude is a total douchebro. Yesterday 12:11pm
You really never encountered three women in your years at college who were black-out drunk? Because you don’t need to be unconscious or falling over to be blacked out.
There’s also the possibility that they did remember pieces of what happened but didn’t report it, because unfortunately our society gives women a lot of mixed signals about whether it’s our fault if they were drinking when they were assaulted. Yesterday 12:30pm
These two commenters are debating just how often women are passed out drunk, or inebriated to the point they might as well be. They both just assume that women in that state OUGHT to be perfectly fine. They have a RIGHT to be smashed out of their gourds and still be safe. How does that work?
Oh hello White Knight.
Actually, this is the kind of thing that happens, as the author of the article points out, with alarming regularity on college campuses. I was black out drunk a few times in college. Once, I ended up going home with this dude who was friends with the boyfriend of one of my friends. Next thing I knew I woke up naked with semen in my hair. I booked it the hell out of there before the dude could wake up because I did NOT want to see him. I was later told by my friend that the guy’s story was that while we were walking to his place, I told him that I want to have sex and “what was he going to do, say no?” but then I changed my mind so just went down on him and then threw up which was why the stuff was in my hair. I had nothing but the word of this douchebag I barely knew to tell me what really happened that night but I definitely felt dirty and violated and a huge amount of shame. Because at the time, in my mind, the whole thing was mostly my own fault for getting so sloppy drunk. And that’s the message that a lot of young college girls get: don’t get drunk and let your guard down because of course your male peers cannot be expected to control themselves if you do. Yesterday 3:17pm
What’s the inverse here? Callmemaebe is being snarky and sarcastic when she says “of course your male peers cannot be expected to control themselves if you do”, meaning that she feels she should be free to offer sex to a guy probably just as drunk as she was, decide a blowjob is a better option and then vomit the consequences into her own hair (fucking gross!), and it is the GUY in this situation who is expected to exhibit control.
Control over what? Why over her, of course. But only in one direction. He must never, ever forget his primary duty to protect and guard her, even from her own worst impulses. He should assume that she is virginal and innocent and WOULD NEVER, ever offer to blow a guy she barely knows.
Stereotypes. Acceptable when useful. Assume she is a delicate flower in need of protection when it comes to opening doors and you are a sexist bastard trying to keep her down. Assume she is delicate flower in need of protection when she decides to go full bore slut on you, and you MUST treat her like the delicate flower she is.
I nearly fell over dead when I read this comment, and poor Valerie came in for a ton of abuse for speaking too much truth, but I think she nails it.
Valerie Rose Carey
There’s been a swing in the pendulum in feminist discourse about the issue of rape, and I understand why. It’s a much-needed correction to the age-old, pervasive victim-blaming that we suffered for so long.
But as a consequence, there also is a refusal to acknowledge the obvious. We DO live in a rape culture. We are surrounded by rapists. So maybe, as a basic, common-sense preventative measure, we should, if we insist on turning ourselves into passive rag dolls, do so only when we are in a safe environment.
This is so fucking obvious. When you drink yourself into a coma, you relinquish all power to defend yourself against a predator. If you lock your door at night, and refuse to leave your purse unattended, why would you insist on your dubious right to dump your unconscious body in a hallway or a stranger’s bedroom? Is your body—your physical safety—less important to you than your money or belongings?
I repeat—we are surrounded by them, everywhere we go. This is fucked up. But it’s REAL. Why is it that so many young women persist in transforming themselves into convenient jism receptacles for any sick sack of shit who walks by? Yesterday 2:45pm
This leads me to my second point. Valerie is correct to point out the obvious fact that rapists exists. So do thieves, liars, con artists and murderers.
We are far from “surrounded” by them, though. But we don’t have to be surrounded for a few determined “sick sacks of shit” to have the desired effect.
Boston College runs a “Street Smarts” self-defence class focused on teaching women how to avoid and deter the “Model Mugger”, and there doesn’t seem to be any outcry against “victim-blaming” when people get mugged.
Don’t look like a victim
Avoid dark, unlit areas
Travel in groups when possible
Know some basic self-defence
Turn the Model Mugger into the Model Rapist and all of sudden women have zero obligation to protect themselves and should instead just rely on the shielding instincts of men?
Talk about having your cake and eating it, too. Women will scream from the mountaintops that they are EQUAL and demand to be treated thus, but they still want all the traditional advantages of having the stronger sex at their beck and call.
The 80-20 rule in policing, also called the Pareto Effect. 80% of the problems are caused by 20% of the population. Repeat offenders. Not a stunning new insight into criminal behavior. And rape is no different.
Pooling data from four samples in which 1,882 men were assessed for acts of interpersonal violence, we report on 120 men whose self-reported acts met legal definitions of rape or attempted rape, but who were never prosecuted by criminal justice authorities. A majority of these undetected rapists were repeat rapists, and a majority also committed other acts of interpersonal violence. The repeat rapists averaged 5.8 rapes each. The 120 rapists were responsible for 1,225 separate acts of interpersonal violence, including rape, battery, and child physical and sexual abuse. These findings mirror those from studies of incarcerated sex offenders (Abel, Becker, Mittelman, Cunningham-Rathner, Rouleau, & Murphy, 1987; Weinrott and Saylor, 1991), indicating high rates of both repeat rape and multiple types of offending.
This is exactly why “teach men not to rape” campaigns are so fucking insulting. The vast majority of men are never going to rape anyone. Despite being shit on left right and center for their benevolent sexism, most men continue to shield women from harm. Even harm that comes from women’s own stupidity. It doesn’t seem to matter.
The instinct to protect women is innate in the vast majority of men, and painting all men as potential rapists is so dehumanizing. Part of what makes men different from women is their overwhelming desire to protect us, and women in general have that same instinct towards very small children. It’s a very clever set of interdependent psychologies. Men protect women, women protect children, and we all survive the cave lion.
It’s called mate guarding.
None of which changes the fact that some men do not give a rat’s ass about mate guarding or protecting women and will express that through rape.
They are the minority, and they tend to be repeat offenders.
Women are not surrounded by rapists, but it is foolish to expect that there aren’t a few around. Boston Rapist may very well be telling the truth, and he is on the hunt for the next victim.
So don’t be the victim. Why is that so hard to understand? You don’t go through your life thinking every poor person you meet is likely to mug you, but at the same time, you don’t walk through the council estates at two in the morning trashed out of your mind with your wallet stuffed with cash.
No one will have a whole lot of sympathy for you if you do, and end up mugged.
Rape is no different. Stop assuming every man is a rapist, but at the same time, stop assuming all men are REQUIRED to protect you. Most will. Some won’t.
Make better choices. And be grateful for all those men who WILL come to your rescue.
But don’t count on them.
You’re not that special.
Lots of love,