Why I’ve Never Talked About My Sexual Assault (Until Now)

And why men and women wait so long to come forward

Photo by John Rae Cayabyab from Pexels

Just after turning 22, I went to a fancy party — or at least what I considered fancy at the time. It was my first year in grad school. There were lots of people there I wanted to impress.

Back then I didn’t know I was on the autism spectrum. Everyone just thought I was weird and stiff before a glass of wine.

I was one of those kids who’d waited until 21 to start drinking, and I didn’t do it often. So I was still figuring out alcohol.

I can’t remember how I met him. I don’t remember his name. I just remember he was round, soft, and harmless looking. He wore glasses. His voice wasn’t very deep. He had red hair.

Everyone seemed to like him.

We were in the middle of a conversation with two or three other people. And then we were in a conversation by ourselves.

I was working hard at overcoming my autism and trying to bloom socially. I was learning how to tell little jokes, how to chime in, and when to complement someone’s anecdote with my own. I’d learned not everything that was funny on TV was funny in real life.

I don’t remember what we were talking about. I don’t remember what calendar…