I know exactly how you feel. I know the shame, the guilt, the regret and the loneliness. You've heard countless times that it's never the victim's fault, that you should never blame yourself, but you still do because you don't know if you're a victim of rape or merely one of your own denial. You're constantly fighting with yourself over whether your mind blew things out of proportion to shield you from having to face the reality of your decisions. I know how you feel, and I'm here to tell you this: you have nothing to be ashamed, guilty, or regretful of. Rape is not a one-size-fits-all crime with a cookie-cutter definition. It's different for every victim, and it isn't always forcible. Sometimes it's more subtle, an act of manipulation rather than one of carnal impulse and rage. That's how it was for me. Maybe my story will help you be a little more gentle with yourself.

I had been dating a guy for about two months, long enough for my trust in him to build. We had so much in common: we're both bodybuilders, our religious and political views aligned, and we had the same taste in music and food, among many other things. He gave me pointers in the gym, cooked dinner for me when I came over and was the kind of person you could just lay in bed with and talk about random things to for hours without getting bored. In my mind, he was perfect. That made it so much easier to ignore all the bright red flags until it was too late.

First of all, he went through girls like dollar bills. There were 34 before me, if I'm not mistaken, and he was all too eager to disclose this information, almost as if he were bragging. He did that a lot. He always felt the need to talk about how fit, attractive and smart he was and compare himself to others, putting himself on a pedestal that nobody else could ever reach. He required validation from everyone around him, constantly going out of his way to receive compliments and praise. In short, he was a narcissist. A leech who fed on other people to boost his ego and mask the extreme insecurity he was truly feeling inside. It was never about me. I was just a means to an end for him, the end being self-confidence. People like him aren't capable of love or emotional attachment. That's why it was so easy for him to trick me into getting what he wanted.

One night, we were watching a movie at his apartment and he offered me a drink. He was fully aware that I had never had more than a few sips of alcohol and had expressed interest in sharing that new experience with me. I found that incredibly sweet and agreed. I wasn't driving anywhere that night, I was supervised, and he knew how low my tolerance was so he wouldn't give me enough to get me drunk...or so I thought. When I was about halfway done, he said "Wait about fifteen minutes and see how you feel. If you're okay, finish the rest and you'll still feel fine afterwards." I was even more reassured after that. He told me to wait and see how I feel AND that I wouldn't be drunk if I was still okay after fifteen minutes. That meant I was right about his intentions all along - he just wanted to be present for my first time drinking because he cared about me and wanted to see me trying new things. What a naive girl I was...

I ended up getting VERY drunk. I don't remember much of what happened other than us having sex. That was nothing new, it wasn't my first time with him, but what he said a few days later will haunt me until the day I die. We were talking on the phone when I asked him why he gave me so much alcohol when he said he wasn't going to. His response was, "I wanted sexual aggression from you. I was tired of you never initiating things, and I knew you would if you were drunk."

I didn't know what to make of that. A wave of confusion, hurt and anger hit me like a brick wall. I immediately blamed myself for everything: I should've known more about alcohol, I should've watched him pour the drink, I should've refused it altogether.

Even if you didn't go through this exact situation, the advice I'm giving applies to any encounter where the lines were "blurred." I say that in quotes because blurred lines don't exist. The line between consensual sex and rape is as bold as the dividing line on a highway. If all parties aren't fully aware of each others' intentions beforehand and/or don't maintain affirmative, SOBER consent throughout the duration of the act, it's rape. Plain and simple. And prior consent does not guarantee future consent. So, yes, I might have consented to the alcohol and the sex, but I never would've had I known his intentions, not to mention I wasn't sober at the time of consent. He just assumed I'd be okay with it because I usually was in the past.

So even though the law doesn't believe you, I need you to know that I (and thousands of others like us) do. Your feelings are valid and nobody has the right to tell you that you weren't assaulted just because physical force wasn't used. It's imperative that our society understands this, especially with the continued normalization of rape culture rhetoric that we've seen lately. So let yourself be confused, hurt, and angry. Don't try to bottle up all your emotions and pretend like everything is okay. You're a victim and you deserve to feel like one. Only then, after you've let yourself grieve, will you be able to truly rise up and move on. You will recover from this, but only after you've faced it and realized the gravity of what happened to you rather than letting society define how you should feel based on its perceived notions of what rape looks like. Only you know what it looks like for you and whether you experienced it or not, and yours is the only opinion that should hold any weight in your life.