This was such a crock.
Being a nice girl didn't protect me and then being one of those "easy" girls (not a virgin) made it even harder for me to enforce my "No" since it was given even less weight than it had before.
During my third rape and third penetration, this time while completely drunk, I remember my shock that I wasn't in painful agony. Until just now I never labeled that interaction as rape even though I didn't want to have sex and he took it anyway. It didn't hurt this time, neither did it feel good, so it couldn't have been the same type of violation.
But that interaction is the moment where I felt like I was a lost cause and had officially become easy. I needed the booze even more after that. And since girls who drink booze are bad, I was fair game.
None of those who carelessly exploited me likely see themselves as rapists.
By the time fall came around and I entered high school I was a different girl. I wasn't just a bad girl, I was a tough one. Other girls might want to date boys with the hot cars, I decided to skip the boys and get myself the car I wanted. It turned out to be a semi-reliable 1968 Camaro 327.
The chip on my shoulder must have been larger than both boots combined.
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