I was not raped in this instance. I want to say that up front. This whole thing was me.
I was 18, living in Pittsburgh with no money. I had a boyfriend who actively tormented me in a million ways, until his real girlfriend came to town. It was those times he'd send me home for the week to starve in my apartment with my 4 pieces of furniture. I would listen to U2 and Alanis Morissette and wait for him to message me, again.
On the ride home, once, the bus driver was older and took a wrong turn. I knew it was a wrong turn as I'd been on this route a hundred times. But, I thought, I'll just get off the bus whereever and try to walk home, no matter the distance. And why did I think that? Why didn't I tell him straight away? I'd paid for the ride. I knew he was wrong. But I sat there and let the mistake unfold at my own cost.
At some point he realized his mistake and turned down a narrow street in order to turn around. While backing the massive bus up, he hit a telephone pole. He looked up at me in the overhead mirror and said "Oops." in this awkward way that made my skin crawl. He parked the bus and undid his seat belt.
At this point, I considered that he may try to rape me. And my immediate thought was that I should just let him so that he will drive me the rest of the way home. Not that I should call for help. Not that I should fight back. Not that I should run away. I should just lay there in exchange for a ride home.
Of course, nothing like that happened. He stepped out of the bus and asked a guy to help him turn the bus around. He corrected the route and dropped me off just a few minutes later than usual.
Why would I think so little of myself? Why would my go-to response be to lie there and not make a fuss? Why would I think it worth a ride home to be obedient while a man violates me?
I need therapy.
