In January a dear friend of mine wanted to come down to the alma mater to celebrate his birthday with the friends that still have not graduated. Cool? Yes. I had been burdened with an obscene amount of homework, and this was the first weekend that I had a clear space to party it up. In college, I've always been relatively good, I do my homework, get pretty good grades, but still try to get some fun in... this was my opportunity.

So we headed off to the bar, and I proceeded to drink it up... a bit too much. From what I remember, I was happy to be with my friends, kissing each one like I do with my family, it's a cultural thing... don't get too excited. That was the last that I remember.

Somehow I stumbled home... don't know how. One of my guy friends was there, and according to story, when he had a moment alone with me, he proceeded to kiss me. I was not coherent. I don't remember anything.

Next morning I went home to visit my parents with a massive hangover. Did the family thing and came back to our superbowl party that the roomies and I were hosting. That's when I hear it from my roommate... "you guys made out" "He's been telling people that he owes his friends a dollar" (side note, his group have some sort of taxing system where when they kiss a girl, they have to shell a dollar) I was shocked. I don't remember it. Worst part, I have a boyfriend and he's hung out with him. I should also mention, the kid who kissed me only had one drink.

I don't know how I felt at first. This person was my friend! And here he was, he staked out his opportunity to make with me. This was the boy who knew about my rape, I had confided in him, knew about my insecurities with men and having faith in their intentions, he said he understood, he said he was there for me, he said that I was important. In that revelation, I felt unimportant. I was an extra dollar in a pool, and whatever friendship I thought I had with him was a farce. I was disgusted and I wanted to hide... how could he do this to me?

I confronted him at the superbowl party, and I asked him what happened. He said that he came up to me, and it just happened. I reiterated the fact that I was drunk, to which he had no feasible answer. I felt small, and I wanted to crawl into a hole.

The people who knew about it sympathized with me, but tried to emphasize that although he was shady, but I should let it go... all for the sake of the almighty group dynamic. I tried to appease my friends, but felt pretty dammed low about it. I didn't tell my boyfriend about it because I felt ashamed that I had somehow cheated on him. I became depressed. I cried every night about this, and it came back in full force. For a while I had thought that I was better about my rape, that I had grown up from that scared little 8 year old girl who now wouldn't take any crap from anyone. I regressed to a state of fear.

Eventually with time, and some therapy I started to gain some ground. Why should I forgive him? Because he did an acceptable shady act? No, not me. Screw the virtuous group dynamic, screw appeasement... Perhaps some of my friends are right, I was too harsh, too cutting, too angry when I told him where to go... but understand me, I was 8, he was a nice guy by everyone's standards, like part of the family, and I stayed silent because I was afraid to ruin things. Tell me that isn't harsh.

He and I don't talk, in fact he thinks I'm a bitch for my stance from what I hear. It doesn't matter, because I was his friend, he was a nice guy by everyone's standards, but this time I wasn't going to stay silent due fear of ruining things. Not me, not anymore.