I think part of the problem for me is I'm not really sure what counts, you know? There was the time I was drunk after a preorientation party and I went over to your suite in Hillsides and there went my virginity. Or when I was on the bus from a pub night and you, on my left, kept trying to sneak your fingers up my skirt as I talked your friend on my right. I don't believe I was assaulted, but sometimes I do have to ask myself why is it that I get treated in such a shitty way by so many men? Why is it that I seem to be a one-time-use object of some men's fantasies and nothing more?
To be honest, I can't say I'm particularly thrilled by my own sexual past, but at the same time, it's mine. And if anything, it's taught me what a good man looks like. Like two months ago when we were in bed and I said maybe we should stop and you said okay. I remember thinking "my god, he's really great, isn't he?" Yes, he is great, but the fact that he said okay when I said stop isn't what makes him great, it's that he never even considered there would be anything else to say, because that's what real men do. Real men stop.