Ashes

I matched with a guy named Name on Hinge. At first he came across as cool and kind, and we quickly started talking and building what I thought was a sincere friendship. Early on he told me he had a boyfriend and that if he was interested in sex, that would be separate — which shocked me because I didn’t notice it on his profile. I was okay with it, though, because he reassured me that he didn’t actually care about sex and that what mattered most to him was the friendship. That made me think it was genuine. He said it wouldn’t be a big deal if we never had sex, and that made me feel safer because I wasn’t looking to just hook up. I was lonely and desperate for connection, so I believed him. We even made innocent plans to hang out; his mom was supposed to drive us to get ice cream because he said he really wanted to spend time together. After the movies, he texted and things never followed through; the ice cream plan didn’t happen because, according to him, his mom didn’t want to drive that far. I still believed in his friendliness and thought it was okay — I thought he seemed safe. Over time I eventually said I was open to the idea of sex, even though I initially disagreed, because in my mind he was a good person and it wasn’t something I was inherently against. I thought maybe it would depend on how I felt. I didn’t mean an inherent “yes”; I meant “maybe,” depending on the moment and only if I felt comfortable. Since he kept emphasizing that he didn’t really care about sex, that seemed to be what he valued most. When I finally met him in person, he was not who he presented himself to be. His pictures gave a better idea of how he looked, but his online personality was completely different from reality. Before we met, I had told him I was nervous because I’m shy; he said that wasn’t a problem and that he was talkative. I had mentioned how touchy-feely I was as a reason I was open to the possibility of sex, and he said he would make me feel safe. But when I met him, he was awkward, creepy, and not at all who he made himself out to be. He looked different too — less clean, oily skin, poor hygiene — none of it matched what he presented online. Because he picked me up in his car and I was so desperate to get out of my house and shocked myself for my suicidal ideation and everything else I was dealing with emotionally, I felt trapped. I didn’t have a way out. Right away, once we got the ride to the mall, he immediately acted like sex was already a set plan — not an option. He didn’t even ask me how I felt; he just assumed. In that moment I felt unsafe and my fight-or-freeze response kicked in, so I kind of went along to get through the moment because I felt like I had no choice. Throughout the car ride he constantly apologized about things being awkward in a way that was different from how he presented himself online. I suggested we go inside the mall first to hang out so I would feel less awkward, but in the car he started rummaging for a condom and made it clear that he had come expecting sex. From that moment I felt cornered and terrified. When we got to the backseat, he just stared at me, clearly expecting me to initiate my own violation, which created intense pressure to make the first move. It felt deliberate — like he wanted me to initiate so he could later deny assault. I didn’t want to; everything in me screamed no. I was even giggling awkwardly out of discomfort and terror. My body went into survival mode. After a couple of unbearable moments, I leaned in because I wanted to get through it, and I felt like I had no choice. The experience was one of the worst of my life. Everything about being near him was absolutely disgusting and made me feel sick to my stomach. I remember feeling like I was going to throw up at times. At one point he started fingering me; I was grimacing and asking him to be gentler. Instead of caring, he snapped irritably, “I’m being gentle,” with no concern for whether I was okay. Then he pushed me into giving him oral sex; he pushed my head down and I choked and coughed. He gave a fake, “Are you OK?” with a giggle that made it clear he didn’t care — especially since he continued without stopping. When it came to penetration, I lay on my back at first, but he directed me into being on top. He penetrated me and the pain was excruciating — some of the worst pain of my life. I’ve been hit by a car and broke two legs and bones, but this burning, sharp pain froze me so badly I couldn’t move my body. He literally had to thrust for me, which defeated the whole point of that position. At one point, as I was dissociating — which started early and got stronger — he said something like, “This is when you start to do the movements,” while I was physically checked out. He grabbed my behind so violently that, since then, those parts of my body feel permanently dirty from what he did. During the assault, he gave fake concern and once giggled while saying, “You’re shaking, are you OK?” I hadn’t even realized I was shaking until he pointed it out; my body was in shock and he laughed about it without asking if I wanted to stop. The whole ordeal lasted maybe seven minutes. When he finished, he told me to get off him as if I were just an object. I didn’t even realize he was done. He brushed me off and immediately excused himself by saying it was just “penta.” He clearly knew beforehand that he was going to finish quickly and didn’t care what I needed afterward. We went inside the mall and walked around with awkward, empty conversation, then he drove me home and gave me a quick, uncomfortable hug. I had hoped there might be something salvageable, but I knew then I was done. I decided I never wanted to do anything physical again after that horrible ordeal. I felt so worthless afterward. Now I carry a lot of PTSD and flashbacks from that moment — the pain, the smell, everything. I still feel like he’s here with me, like a second skin. Lying in my room afterward, I felt worthless, like an object; my body didn’t belong to me because of how I was treated and discarded. Despite everything he promised and despite saying he valued friendship, he never reached out again. When I tried to check in, he left me on read. Every single thing — the kindness, the care, the safety, the friendship, even the simple acts he promised — turned out to be a lie. He pressured, manipulated, and cornered me into initiating my own assault. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he made sure to do it in a way he could deny if I ever spoke up. I feel disgusting, haunted in my own body, and scarred. It wasn’t just bad sex — it was predatory, manipulative, and abusive. Honestly, I felt treated like a prostitute, but without the money. That's my story