Rape.

My next blog post was going to be about how I came out to a good friend the other day and how amazing it went. And also how happy and for the first time maybe ever not so alone in the world.

Instead I'm going to explain tonight and a couple events it reminded me of.

I went out to a club which i've been enjoying this summer. I went there tonight feeling very confident and probably a bit more dressed up than usual. The bouncer seemed genuinely surprised when he saw my ID, which i suppose at a gay club could be considered props. So i was feeling pretty warm and fuzzy when I hit the bar. I started talking to a Lebanese fellow for awhile and he seemed nice enough. We went for a walk around the club and found ourselves in the corner of the upstairs vacant area and I should know better.

There have been two other times in my life that I have been nearly raped (or worse). If you've ever wondered how to avoid a rape and leave your assailant in possible tears, this is what worked for me.

When I was much younger, I used to go to some areas of NYC which weren't quite so safe. One time I was attacked on a side street in the middle of the night in Hells Kitchen. Go figure... I had a knife to my throat, I was pinned against the wall and I couldn't stand back up because I could barely walk well in the tight shoes I was wearing. Luckily, I've never been the type to panic. I'm not sure if he thought I was a guy or not, but one thing is for sure he didn't know who he was fucking with. I remember in classes about how rape was always described as a "control" issue, and this seemed to be about accurate. However, I think the key to escape relies not in self defense and whistles entirely but instead on something really difficult to pull off in that situation, compassion. He was living some sort of fantasy. So was I in a different way. I tried to pretend to be his fantasy woman, and at first tried to fight him. Then pretended to just get weak and let him hold me to the ground. Then, I kissed him. I forced my tongue into his mouth and pushed his head back. I stroked the back of his neck and grabbed his hair. I bit his neck, flipped him on his back banging his skull on the blacktop. I pulled down my skirt and in a Very male voice told him to SUCK IT. He promptly stopped. I called him an asshole, stood up, fixed myself and walked away.

The next time was in a club called Eidelweiss in NYC. That time seemed much less dangerous. He'd been following me around the whole night, cornered me, grabbed be and wouldn't let me go. I couldn't break his grip. He was clearly erect. And I was very uncomfortable. He was pretty drunk. He kept telling me how beautiful I was, and other nonsensical gibberish. So, long story short, I had to stay there, stroke his bald head and tell him everything was OK for about 20 minutes. And fortunately that was good enough.

Tonight, the guy stood in front of a pillar and pinned me against the balcony edge. I couldn't move. He dropped my skirt and pulled himself out. and rubbed himself on me. I tried to say "stop," "Um, this place is sorta public," 'NO!" and tried to shuffle away from him. He held me closer. Then, I remembered that almost everyone I've ever met from the middle east was at least a slight germaphobe. I told him that this was gross. That he was gross. And he let me go. Whew.

I went downstairs to get a drink. A group of three gay guys surrounded me. They told me I was pretty, that i looked like linsey lohan, started touching my hair, said that they were going to call the cops on me because I was drinking. Then they wanted to see my breasts. They said, "come on, just show us once and we wont harass you for the rest of the night." I asked them if they were ever picked on in high school and told them that thats kind of how I was feeling at that moment and to leave me alone. So one of them grabbed me from the front, another from behind and just started rubbing themselves on me. I held up my hands and pushed them away while the third took a picture. "Great, Lindsey, I'm gonna put that one on my myspace...We love you." Another said, "I think she hates us." and then they walked away.

I went into a different corner by myself and sort of felt like crying. I wonder if that's the hormones.