Three hours after purchasing Tag body spray (After Hours scent) I was sexually assaulted on campus by a moaning, panting mob of women. They raped me all freakin’ weekend. They ripped my clothes. They bound me to bed posts and had at me like a pogo stick. They made me wear a Nixon mask. They ate perverted “Banana and Nut Sundaes” for breakfast, lunch and dinner. They even videotaped it. These women degraded me. I survived that weekend on nothing but maraschino cherries and sweat.

 

But it’s my fault. I should not have applied the scent. I deserved to be treated like that. After all, I had it coming. Those women should not be held liable for their actions. They raped me, not because they wanted to, but because they had to. Had I practiced due diligence that day and not baited them with my rugged man scent, this horrible situation would never have happened. But I didn’t, so I got what was coming to me – 28 swizzles, 6 rimmers, and a HJ from a girl wearing rings.

After the women had grown tired of sexually assaulting me against my will, I went to the police station to file a complaint. But the female officer on duty raped me before she finished filling out my paperwork. She said she couldn’t control herself. She had to rape me, but if I wanted to come back when I smelled worse, she would take my statement. I left the police station, walked a block, and some homeless lady told me I smelled real manly — then she raped me, too. Now, I can’t even get the newspaper in the morning without getting raped by a jogger.

If you’ve never been raped (i.e. you are a “Rape Virgin”), it might look appealing when they show it on TV. But it’s not. Rape is in fact, a very scary thing. Before I got raped, I always thought that I wouldn’t mind being raped. You might go so far as to say I had a “Rape Fantasy.”I  mean that’s why I bought the Tag body spray in the first place. Rape seemed exciting and adventurous. Well, as long as the girl was good looking. Being raped by an ugly girl was the stuff of nightmares for me. But after being raped by a homeless lady, a cop, and a gaggle of tremendously hot sorority girls, I’m here to say without equivocation: Rape sucks. Period.

I remember listening to my cousin Jen cry her eyes out to my mother when she returned from a stint at an all-girl’s juvenile correctional facility upstate. She said a gang of fellow delinquents sexually assaulted her. My first thought was, “Why are you crying about it? That sounds awesome. I can’t even get a date with these braces on, and a gang of chicks just ran a train on you? Jen, you have no idea how lucky you are.”


Only now, as a victim of multiple traumatic rape experiences, with the hickeys to prove it, can I sympathize with her, and her ordeal. Girl vs. Guy rape should not be sensationalized, or glorified. It’s just as serious a crime as Guy vs. Girl rape. But no one thinks that way. A few days ago, I went to my parents’ house. My Dad was all smiles. When my mother went to bed, he grabbed a beer for me, tossed a high-five my way, sat down and said, “Give me the dirt about the sorority house! Were any of’em Asians?”


I just shook my head. No one understands. Or just maybe no one cares. I guess I just got what I paid for. I got what I deserved.