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Why, Hello Again, Familiar Face in My Facebook Feed
You know how sometimes you scroll through your Facebook newsfeed and feel your blood pressure rise? The endless political arguments, the selfies that seem to be everywhere, and why do so many women pose with their hands on their hips like they’re channeling a teapot? But what really gets under my skin is when a party photo pops up, and I suddenly recognize someone from my past—the guy who assaulted me in high school.
Yep, that revelation hits harder than any debate over politics.
It was decades ago—thirty years, to be exact. To put it in context, my friend’s parents went on vacation, and she threw a legendary keg party. It was the kind of chaos you’d expect: loud music, plenty of drinks, and enough pot to make Pineapple Express look tame. We were living the high school dream, complete with all the teenage antics—couples making out in corners, drunken hookups seeking out couches for late-night escapades.
I was a virgin back then, feeling lost in the midst of it all. I remember telling my friend I wasn’t feeling well and needed a place to lie down. She kindly led me to her parents’ bedroom and left me there to rest, not knowing what would unfold next.
As I lay there, I drifted into a haze of drunkenness, only to find myself on the floor when two guys entered the room. At first, I thought they were lost, but then they shut the door behind them. I tried to stay quiet, but fear kicked in, and the alcohol-induced fog began to clear as I realized what was happening.
One of them, a familiar face from school, blocked my way, whispering, “Here she is!” Moments later, I was being pulled up and thrown onto the bed. I remember my protests—yelling “NO!” and “STOP!” but their laughter drowned me out. At that moment, I was just a scared girl hiding behind a facade of bravado.
Fast forward to today, and there I was, scrolling through Facebook, staring at the now-grown man who once assaulted me. I wondered if he even remembers that night. Did he recall my fear? My resistance? Did he ever think about the pain he caused? I remember every detail, from the cheap comforter to the loud music that masked my cries.
This isn’t just my story; it’s a narrative shared by many. There are countless women out there who have experienced similar horrors, and it’s a truth that weighs heavily on us all. It’s hard to fathom how many girls have had to confront their own pasts through the lens of social media.
I’m writing this not to seek vengeance or to bring someone down over a distant memory, but rather to acknowledge the shared struggle among so many. We all want to protect our children from experiencing the same pain, whether they’re daughters or sons.
As we navigate this conversation around consent and safety, it’s important to recognize that these experiences matter. If you’re looking for more resources on this topic, check out this excellent guide on fertility and pregnancy, or explore this insightful post about home insemination. For a comprehensive look at home insemination kits, you can also visit Make a Mom.
Summary
The piece reflects on a painful memory from the author’s teenage years, confronting the trauma of being assaulted while also recognizing the shared experiences of many women. It serves as a reminder of the importance of discussing consent and protecting future generations from similar experiences.