I wasn't going to do this, but I saw him today. I walked past him and his friends, and he stared through me, like a stranger. I don't think he remembers my face. I remember almost every detail. A sports team had a party, and of course the theme was "wear anything but clothing." My excited freshman friends and I spent hours thinking up costumes, making ourselves look beautiful for a fun night out. There were shots. There were a lot of shots. We everything right, asking each other in advance our goals for the night and agreeing to stop each other from making stupid mistakes. When asked whether I wanted to bring anyone home, I smiled deviously and said, "We'll see where the night takes us." He walked up to me and we started dancing. Then there was kissing. He asked me three times if I wanted to leave and I said no twice. We went to his room, and when I left my friends gave me a proud thumbs-up sign as I swallowed what I thought was just cowardice. He forgot his keys and said his roommate was asleep in there, but I found out later his roommate was fucking my friend back at the party. I have no idea why he lied. We went to the basement of his dorm, underneath the stairwell, and my not-clothing clothing ripped off and I started shivering, told him that the door outside was just above us and I didn’t want to do this here. The solution was a more discreet location. The solution was the fucking Miller Hall bike room. I found my voice and told him I just wanted to make out. He could take my makeshift shirt off, fine, but I was on my period and the florescent lights were too bright against the neon green walls, too obvious to anyone walking by to put away a bicycle at three in the morning. He pushed down on my shoulders and suddenly I felt something in my hand that I had never wanted in my hand. I thought rubbing would make him stop. The pushing on my shoulders got harder, more forceful, until I was on my knees and barely able to breathe. It was over quickly and I apologized for spitting. Afterwards, I told my friends that what had happened was “dubious” and we all made jokes about how easy I was. I told the story of sucking a dick in the Miller Hall bike room like a comedy bit, because it’s just me, I’m so wild, it’s so funny. When I tell the rest of the story, people stop laughing. I found out later that he was blackout the entire time, he doesn’t remember the pleasure made me give him or the way I looked up at him silently pleading for it to be over or even my name and my face. I cannot look at him laughing and gazing through me one more day without telling you my story.