It did not hurt when I was raped. Nor did I cry. I was at my boyfriend’s place and we had just had sex.

I had decided a shower after sex would be good because I did not like the feeling of stickiness down there. He joined me. As we were washing, he thought some more sex in the shower would be fun. Now, I’m down for sex most of the time, I like spontaneous sex, even in public places like the cinema, the car, the quiet library late at night. Yeah, judge me. But shower sex? No.

Firstly I’m short and I already felt like I was drowning under the shower that was adjusted for my boyfriend’s tall self. Also, what if we tripped and fell? There was nothing romantic about that. Still, he pulled me close to kiss me. I pulled away saying, “We’re not having sex in the shower.”

I don’t remember what he said in turn, but he pulled me close again. Next thing, he slid down to the floor so that I was straddling him with my thighs. You might be wondering why I didn’t jump off him. Again, I was afraid of slipping and falling on those shower tiles.

“I said I don’t want to have sex,” I said, turning my back on him.

He continued anyway and I let him. Physically it didn’t hurt, but when it was over I had this indescribable nauseating feeling inside me that made my eyes sting with tears.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“What for?” now I was angry.

“I… I raped you. You said you don’t want to, and I continued,” he mumbled.

I could feel the shame in his voice. His hands were on his head and he was still sitting on the wet shower floor. But how dare he say it? Perhaps if he had not used the word ‘rape’ I could ignore it. I could pretend that this moment had never occurred in life and try to deny it and move on.

But there it was. This was rape. By my boyfriend. In his shower.

Most people think that rape is always violent, and always with someone you don’t know, don’t love, don’t trust. Most people will ask what I was doing naked in his shower. He dishonoured me in that moment. No matter how short it was. In that moment I ceased to be a human being. I became a thing. I became only a carrier for my vagina which he HAD to use against all odds, even against my will.

I didn’t answer him. We dressed up and I went home.

Later he still called and I still answered. Later that week I went back to his place and we had sex again. That was the last time we had sex. You’re probably wondering why I went back to have sex with him, my rapist. I didn’t know too, at that time. But now I know.

In my subconscious, I was trying to give him another chance. Another chance to prove that I could have sex with him freely. Another chance to prove that he loved and respected me. Another chance for a better sex memory to eclipse that moment in the shower. But it didn’t work. Because sex and rape are NOT the same. They can’t be interchanged. He still called after that. I couldn’t answer anymore. We broke up.

A note to the fellas: You should never try to convince a lady to have sex with you. Not with kisses, touches or begging. This is coercion and rape and is WRONG. If she wants to sleep with you she will. If she doesn’t, SHE DOESN’T.

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Tell us: Why do you think society still doesn’t believe it’s rape when committed by a partner (boyfriend, girlfriend or spouse)?