I liked him, I really did. I thought he was charismatic and funny. The acquaintance started out harmless enough and for a while I actually believed he liked me too. It started to be that the only thing we ever did was watch movies together in his basement, isolated and away from everyone else. That's when I began to realize that he didn't really care to get to know me very much or that I could be a really great person, he just wanted to see how easy it was for him to get his hands all over me. ALL over me.
The strange thing was, even as I began to realize this, I still let myself into the situation. Alone, in a dark basement, no one knew he was touching me, and I didn't make a sound. No one would know. It slowly went from small things like wrapping his hands around my waist and pulling me close to sliding his hands up my shirt and fondling my breasts. Still, I didn't say anything.
It got worse. He must have thought that the more he kissed me, the more "turned on" I would feel and the less I would care about his actions. He would lay down on top of me and cup his hands under my bra and play with my breasts. He tried to dry hump me and finger me. I didn't say anything. He would fold my bra up to expose my breasts and try to suck on them. I would tell him "no" and he would stop, but moments later he would do it again. I'd tell him to stop again, but he didn't.
One day he just flat out told me he wasn't really interested in a relationship, that he was just in it for the attention. I'd never felt so used and abused in my life.
I'd had enough, and I stopped seeing him. Though I knew in the back of my mind that I'd really done nothing wrong myself, I still felt the weight of it in my heart and it silently turned into a pit of guilt. I thought that if I just kept reminding myself that I'd done nothing wrong, it would eventually get better. I prayed and prayed for help and relief. Still, the guilt remained even a year later.
Remaining in silence was not helping me. I came to the conclusion that I needed to talk to someone about it. I decided to confide in my ecclesiastical leader. It was difficult reliving the details as I told him about it. I was fearing the worst. He looked at me with a smile of compassion and assured me that this guy was the aggressor and I had done nothing wrong. The moment I heard him say that, that weight of my guilt was lifted off my shoulders and popped into nothingness. It was gone. I felt free again.
I asked him that if I knew I had done nothing wrong, why did I feel so guilty? He explained to me that maybe all that was needed was for me to practice heartfelt prayer and meditation so the healing could complete itself. Yes, I'd recognized it wasn't my fault, all I had left to do was bring my burden to God and it would be lifted from me. Talking to my ecclesiastical leader was that last step.
No matter what the world may tell you, it is never your fault. Don't let their judgement keep you from your freedom of relief.