Part of me, unconsciously, believed people who had been raped were irrecoverably broken, and she wasn’t.
Dan Savage told her she’d been the victim of sexual assault or attempted sexual assault.
And, when I read that, I was like “how can she have been sexually assaulted?
I had expected some sort of catharsis, or release, or knowledge or something, but it wasn’t like that. It was just like — this nameless sadness that seemed to have no bottom ran out, and where it had been there was nothing.
Shortly after my retreat, I was reading a Savage Love where a woman talked about a male friend of hers trying to finger her when he was drunk.
So, when I started dating men for real, I was already primed to not complain when I felt this feeling.