Through the Looking Glass: I Didn’t Know
By Cally Womick
Published on Friday, September 21, 2012
He was a funny guy, or at least I thought so. And he was a senior. And he was nice to me. He remembered my name, sort of, and he said hi to me in FoCo, sometimes. He asked for my Skype handle, so we talked there. I was flattered when he asked if I wanted to do work together. This funny, cool, senior guy wanted to work with me.
I shoved everything under the bed so that it would look tidy when he arrived. I was studying bio — I’m not sure what he was studying. Actually, I’m not sure that he was studying anything. Before long, he asked if I needed a study break. Sure, why not. I’d been working all morning.
We watched some YouTube videos, he put his arm around me. Then he tried to kiss me. I wasn’t so sure about that, so I shied away. Come on, relax, he said. I relaxed. I should get back to studying, though, I said, because I have a quiz tomorrow.
Awww come on, he cooed. A few more minutes, but that’s it. He wanted me to take my shirt off. I didn’t want to do that because I was self-conscious, and besides, I really didn’t know him that well, and sure maybe I liked him, but I didn’t know him that well, but he kept picking and pulling so finally I relented.
He wanted to take my bra off. I wanted him to leave, but I didn’t say so.
I leaned against the wall to make it difficult to get the clasps, but he did it anyway.
Come on, loosen up he said. You’re beautiful, he said.
I really need to study, I said. You really need to have some fun, he said.
I lay on my stomach, the best deterrent I could think of, and he started playing with one of my belt loops.
He took off his shirt. He took of his pants. OK, your turn, he said. It’s only fair, he said.
I said I really needed to study and that my roommate would be back soon and that this had been nice and we should do it again sometime. Only one of those things was true. Come on, he said. Come on, he said. Come on, he said. Have a little fun. I figured he might be happy just to see me nude, so I let him. He finished undressing. I really didn’t like that. I wrapped a blanket around myself, one that my best friend from home had given me for my 18th birthday. He tugged at it until I had to let go, then he pressed himself against me. I didn’t move. I stiffened, but I didn’t move. I know you want it, he said. You don’t have to be so cold. I didn’t want it, but I wanted him to leave. I really need to study, I said. Just a little, he said, if you don’t like it we can stop. He pushed my legs apart and fell against me. I was crying at this point. He didn’t notice, or maybe he didn’t care. I lay there. I just lay there. He told me how beautiful I was. Afterward, he got right up and dressed. He dropped his condom on the floor. Let’s do this again sometime, he said. I didn’t say anything, I was still crying. He grinned, then he left.
And I didn’t know that was rape until years later.
Cally Womick ’13 is a studio art major from Ramseur, N.C., but she didn’t have a southern accent until she crossed the Mason-Dixon line. This winter, she plans to do the Polar Bear Swim for the first time.