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Recently in Salon Health & Body

Urge
Stop raping my loved ones
Dating a victim of sexual assault means learning, awfully, how rape touches everyone.
By Andrew Strickman
[03/28/00]

Urge: Naked World
Battle of the bra barons
There's a cat fight brewing over who is the mother of the latest cleavage creator.
By Jack Boulware
[03/28/00]

Urge: Naked World
Bye-bye, pimpmobile
What's a guy supposed to do without wheels?
By Jack Boulware
[03/27/00]

The hardest question
Even after doing it hundreds of times, it's never easy to ask someone whether they want you to let them die.
By Jeff Drayer
[03/27/00]

Urge
Sling shot
My sexologist date put me in a leather sling, in the hopes of inducing the elusive female ejaculation.
By Kate Coleman
[03/25/00]

Complete archives for Health & Body

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I was out on a date. The guy seemed nice, but he wasn't. I won't go into details because it's too painful and not necessary, but he raped me.

I'm OK with it now. I've had some therapy. I've moved on. I don't even think about it all that often. It certainly doesn't affect us, just me, but like I said, I'm fine. I'm a survivor. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? I just thought, if we're to grow close to one another, it's important for you to know this thing about me. I hope you won't think I'm needy or fucked in the head or anything like that.

Hey, are you OK? You seem distant.

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I cannot count the number of times I've had some variation of this conversation. More often than not, it's the beginning of the end. How the listener responds tells me everything about his character and his readiness to take on a person like me. I've been disappointed more often than I care to remember.

Some guys immediately distance themselves, not wanting to be supportive of yet another needy victim. Much to my dismay, one boyfriend actually started snoring partway into the big conversation. Others have responded with smothering compassion, choosing to treat me as a weak and broken creature in need of their impressive male strength. "Let me take care of you," they say. Or, "What's his name? I'll kill him, then it'll never bother you again."

The sad truth of rape statistics is that they can only measure the event itself. Every two minutes, a woman is raped in the United States. An estimated 68 percent of rape victims know their assailant. More than 670,000 women were the victims of rape, attempted rape or sexual assault in 1995 and 1996. And so on.

Also Today Urge: Stop raping my loved ones Dating a victim of sexual assault means learning, awfully, how rape touches everyone. By Andrew Strickman

These numbers affix mathematical value to a host of similar incidents in an effort to help us conceptualize the severity of an inconceivable problem. But they tell only the beginning of the story. The tragic event recorded by these statistics lasts only minutes or maybe hours, but it changes a woman's life forever. And not just her life, but the life of every person she encounters. It's what happens after these 670,000-plus rapes in 1995 and 1996 that concerns us here -- how these rapes play out in the context of relationships.

Honey, I've been raped and I'm fine. Honey, I've been raped and if you act nonchalant now I'll fucking kill you with my bare hands. Honey, I've been raped, but I'm OK now; don't you worry. Honey, I've been raped and that's why I tend to compose my grocery and to-do lists every time we're in bed, because if I think about sex, I think about him. Honey, I've been raped and I want you to tie me up because I'm that screwed up. Honey, I've been raped and I wish neither of us ever had to deal with it, but if you want to continue with me, it's your problem now, too.

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