TW: Discussions of sexual violence.

Experiencing sexual violence is something that alters you permanently. Having gone through it in 2023, I’ve found my new identity is made up not only of all the ways I’ve grown in 2 years, but also my victimhood. So, with me and sex; it’s always complicated. 

Picture the scene, we’ve got back to mine. We both know what’s happening next as we sit kissing on my sofa. I find myself at a difficult crossroads; do I identify myself immediately as The Victim, someone to pity and protect (which doesn’t feel very sexy and ruins the mood) or do I elude this fundamental part of my being? 

I’ve found a secret third option that appears to be my (not so) happy medium- I let them know, followed by 5 minutes of ME reassuring HIM that I’m fine and really, honestly, it hasn’t affected me that bad at all. I wait in anticipation of the moment he says he no longer wants to have sex, feeling like I’m robbing him of sleeping with the pure, unbroken girl who’s sexy and fun and not pulled down by the weight of her past. But I  am her. My history is there tucked up within me and while visibly I’m unchanged, I feel victimhood ooze out of my every pore. I reek of it. No one wants to be having sex with a victim; you want to give her a tea and a non-committal, reassuring hug. Or perhaps you don’t want to deal with the inconvenience of having to meet her at all. Are you looking at the door now? Racking your brain for a reason to leave without upsetting the poor, damaged victim? I’m sorry you got here under false pretences. 

What is the weight I carry? Why is it that I become the one reassuring and protecting the feelings of each man I encounter, as if to say, ‘I apologise if my trauma affects your experience getting laid tonight’. 

Sometimes I challenge myself. Sometimes I test my own boundaries and keep it to myself, making an endurance test of the encounter and feeling relieved when I manage to get through it without crying or becoming distressed. 

Occasionally I am sexy. Sometimes I meet someone and have great sex and that’s all there is- I’m normal in those moments. But still, I wait in anticipation of the man who pityingly pats my hand and inches slowly out of my bed. 

I know I am okay. I’m lucky to still enjoy it… most of the time (you can’t expect an 100% success rate as a woman). But still, sometimes things do arise and I wish I had the confidence to express that without the guilt that I am once again ruining the moment.  Because I know my emotions deceive me. I know I am not defined by my past. 

But I sure am changed by it. 

I wish I was as sexy as I was 3 years ago.

Article by TWSS Contributor