I remember that it was sometime after March 27, 1990, because that is when Madonna’s Vogue came out.
I remember it was in the second semester of my sophomore year at Fordham University in the Bronx.
I remember he lived in a suite or had access to a suite at Martyr’s Court.
I remember I had too much to drink but I thought I was safe with a gay man.
I remember conversation about me being a virgin and how I should lose my virginity.
I remember thinking this was a joke because I remember telling him I was gay.
I remember the suite we went back to after leaving the Jolly Tinker had its own bathroom with a shower; I remember this specifically because he raped me in the shower after he raped me in the bedroom.
(I don’t remember anyone else being in the suite. It is possible this happened over Spring Break but I cannot be sure.)
I remember he played Madonna’s Vogue because he loved Madonna and was a giant gay.
I remember being surprised that a gay man would rape me.
I remember thinking he ruined Madonna’s Vogue for me.
I remember him on top of me.
I remember he used a condom.
I remember pushing him off of me and standing up in the bedroom, starting to get away from him.
I remember he dragged me to the shower to “sober (me) up” after I managed to get away from him in the bedroom.
I remember the light was very bright in the bedroom.
I remember the shower was dark and he told me to be quiet.
(I think the light was off and he told me to be quiet so I would not wake up his suite mates.)
I remember fleeing the shower and going back to the bedroom to get back into my jeans, t-shirt and sweater, plastic knock-off doc martins, and Russian Army coat.
I remember running out of Martyr’s Court and running across Eddies’s Parade back to my dorm.
I remember the pain in my feet, with blisters on the back of my feet, because I did not put my socks on in my haste to get the fuck out of there.
I remember shivering because it was cold outside and my clothes were soaked through with the water from the shower because I didn’t have time to dry myself off, because I wanted to escape the man raping me.
I remember feeling like I had been hit by a car.
I remember not sleeping but laying in my bed considering why anyone would want to “lose their virginity.”
I remember that he came to my dorm room in Sesquicentennial Hall to ask me why I left.
I remember him telling me “We were having fun.”
I remember we never talked again after this.
I remember his name.
I remember other things I would never put in a blog post.
I remember I never told anyone that he raped me until 24 years later.
I remember I denied he raped me for decades.
I remember I am not defined by what could not have been more than a 45 minute incident.
I remember that I have a permanent limp from this 45 minutes.