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The consequences that are rendered Excuse the weird characters. alt, your filters are a blunt incoherent instrument. I was ALT. by the first man I met from the internet. I was 19. We had been having very explicit, very extreme chats ICQ for a few weeks. He suggested coming my town for a drink and to get to know each other in person. I thought I was so smart about the risks of these things. I told him that it would definitely only be a drink and a . I set the meeting in a pub I went the time and told people what I was doing. I was nervous and excited and really had no idea what I was doing. I had only done kink (explicitly acknowledged anyway) with a boyfriend at that point and I had shared by far my most extreme fantasies with this man. Because it was the internet and we did that sort of thing then, I had roleplayed many of them with him and agreed safewords and the like as if it were real. This last is important because it later led to my realisation that for me safewords are anything but. So we met for a drink. A friend of mine passed by and told me he wasn't worried. That he looked like he couldn't punch his way out of a paperbag. So he was sure I'd be fine. I let my nerves and excitement take over. I got drunk. He suggested going to a club when the pub closed, so we did. I got drunker. He suggested going for a drink in his hotel bar, so we did. When we got there, it seemed the bar was closing, so he suggested we go to his room. My naivety is palpable to me as I replay what happened. I don't remember the order of events from this point precisely. Things I know happened: He held me down by my arms and fucked my cunt He sat on my chest, knees pinning my arms and fucked my throat He called me lots of names, although I don't remember any of them He grabbed me by my hair and pulled me around a lot (it was entirely matted afterwards) I passed out more than once and woke him fucking He beat (I don't remember how, but I was covered in bruises) I did not use my safeword When I woke in the morning I was very afraid. He was cheerful and suggested we go downstairs for breakfast. I said he should go without and that I would join him soon. As soon as he left the room, I tore around it looking for my clothes. He had a suitcase full of condoms. Having thrown my clothes on, I went downstairs to the reception desk and asked them to call a taxi. The receptionist gave one of the most judgmental looks I have ever received. I sat hiding and afraid he would see me in the foyer until the taxi arrived. When I got home, I went bed and didn't get again for 3 weeks or so. I didn't know what say or how say it anyone. I knew I had brought this on myself: I had that explicit , I got drunk, I didn't safeword. It took 10 years before I could call it ALT. I imagine he doesn't think of it that way at . I wonder from time time how many other girls he has done that with/. I never saw him since and I have (and still do) deliberately avoided going the town he was from. It's been 18 years since it happened now and I still get off thinking about it fairly regularly. I told my therapist about it recently and she said 'well, I suppose you don't really know if it was ALT.' I'm not sure how professional or helpful that was, but it's certainly added keeping it alive for as an experience. The fact is, these things are messy and complicated. There is no absolutely binary ALT.com/not ALT.com And if I, or you, want get off what I experienced as my being ALT., then why shouldn't we get pleasure from it as well? He certainly did. |
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R, I suspect
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It’s possible that one of the drinks you had that evening was spiked with rohipnol or similar (it was around at that time). Only you (then you) would be able to work that out based on how drunk you were v’s how much you’d drunk. If that were the case it does change the power/responsibility dynanamic, but only from ‘possibly to drunk to give consent’ to ‘definitely incapable of giving consent’.
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