Her rapist didn’t give her a chance to say no. He was unassuming and shorter than she was in her high-heeled boots, which he later told her to keep on as he tugged her pants off her sluggish body. He chatted with her in a room full of strangers and made sure she was taken care of, giving her more alcohol after her five or six beers. She couldn’t remember his name.
He led her down to the fraternity’s basement. She doesn’t remember his face, or what happened next. She remembers reaching to feel the condom on his penis because she couldn’t feel the rubber against her vagina.
He saw her again the next night, and she suddenly remembered his glasses. She met him again, partly because she didn’t know what happened was rape and partly because she wanted to see his face. Again, she drank to excess.
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