Baggage: part two

Baggage. We all have it. Some just have more of it than others…

Since college, nearly every serious boyfriend I’ve had has come with a cargo carrier of luggage, which ultimately has affected our relationship. At some point in time, I've fallen for men who have had drug abuse, sexual abuse, emotional abandonment, twisted family trees, cheating partners and serial dating issues. In short, I've managed to date just about every unavailable man I've ever met.

I thought my pattern of dating unavailable men was turning around when I started dating Ex-Boyfriend. Sure, he was resistant to change and unable to communicate. He'd previously been in a really toxic relationship, which I always felt kind of hardened him and made it hard for him to open up. But all in all, he was fairly normal.

On the outside, so it the guy I just met. We've only been on two dates, but the chemistry is amazing. He’s sweet. He’s funny. He’s smart. He's romantic. He's expressive. He’s MUCH more romantic than ANY guy I've ever dated - he wants to hold my hand, he calls when he says he will. 

So what's the baggage? 

He has one son with one woman, and a pending divorce with the mother of his second child. Yes, you read that correctly. He has a wife and a baby mama.

I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve never given a lot of thought to dating someone who already has children. I truly believe that your child is your child, regardless of whether s/he is genetically related to you. While the idea of dating a single parent is a little nerve-wracking, it’s not a barrier to a future relationship.

A wife is, though.

I mean, they've only been separated for eight months, so it's not even final, yet. Yes, he assures me that it’s over for him and the process is down to just technicalities. He was honest enough to tell me this on our first date, giving me plenty of time to back up and run for the hills. He offered not to call me again until his divorce is final. I admire that he was so forthright; it speaks volumes of his character.

But it still freaks me the fuck out.

Just having that connection with someone so immediately is discombobulating enough –- I'm notoriously self-destructive when a relationship is "good" -- but throw in the rest and, well, you can see why I have such serious reservations. I’m left with more questions than answers. Questions like:

• Do I just go with the flow and pursue things now? 
• Should I wait until the ink has dried on the divorce decree before progressing with the relationship? 
• Is he playing me, telling me about all this crap up front because he wants me to fall for his "honesty" when he's really just trying to get in my pants?
• Is chemistry the same thing as a connection -- or are my hormones just out of control?
• Is it even worth pursuing... or is this just too much baggage to sign up for?

We all have baggage. Some just have more of it than others. At this point in my life, though, I'm wondering if I'll ever find the person whose baggage goes with mine. 

Baggage: part one

Warning: sensitive topic ahead.

I have a real problem with the fact that Ben Roethlisberger wasn’t charged with sexual assault in the case a college-aged woman in Georgia brought against the football superstar.

The attorneys for the woman said the intense media spotlight aimed at her during a high-profile criminal trial “would be a very intrusive experience” for her. It’s likely she’s right.

It’s an unfortunate situation, but not all that uncommon. It’s estimated that 60 percent of sexual crimes go unreported every year. SIXTY PERCENT.

Why?

Rape and sexual assault are intensely personal, private crimes. They are embarrassing. They are shameful. At least, that’s what victims of sexual crimes believe.

I know this, because I’m one of the statistics.

When I was 17, a friend and I went out with a guy she’d met and his older cousin. We had a few beers. We each started kissing our respective partner. And then…. He tried to have sex with me. I said, “no.” He tried again… there was a little penetration. Panic.  I said, “no” again, this time more forcefully. I pushed against him… he was so much heavier than me! More panic, a flurry of activity. He moved away. Relief.

I’ll never forget his next words to me. They were, “ You’re such a fucking tease.”

I didn’t consider myself a tease for being 17, a virgin and than a little freaked out that a simple make out session was becoming something I was less than comfortable with. I mean, it was my right to say, “no,” right? That’s what they had always told us in school, in sex ed. It’s what my parents had always said.

And yet, I felt like it was my fault. I replayed the evening over and over in my mind. Had I been too flirtatious? Had I given him the wrong impression about where the evening would lead?

Even though we didn’t *technically* have sex I felt violated. I felt ashamed. I was brought up Catholic, was taught that my virginity was a gift and that sex was best saved for marriage. That was something I believed in and had wanted to maintain. Now, I was left with the overwhelming thought, “I am damaged goods. Who will ever want me?”

I didn’t feel that I could go to my parents, because the depth of their disappointment in me would have been too much to bear. And I didn’t feel I could go to the police, because they would involve my parents. Instead, I told my friend, who agreed we’d never see those boys again.

And that was it.

Like any number of women who have felt they were the victim of a sexual assault, I understand the fear and the panic that accompany the scrutiny. I was too frightened to do anything about it.

I also know the long-term effects of a sexual crime. I felt that I was damaged goods. I didn’t think a “good” man would ever want me. So I acted out… big time. I was extremely promiscuous in college. I never wanted to hear, “you’re a tease,” ever again… it was just so much easier to numb myself from the waist down, disconnect from my body and “Just Do It.”

I can’t help but wonder how my life would have been different had I just come clean to my parents. Looking back, they would have been disappointed that I’d gotten myself into the situation, yes, but they wouldn’t have stopped loving me. They would have done everything in their power to make me feel safe and whole. They would have gotten me the therapy that I sought myself many years later. Perhaps I would have regained that sense of self-worth, dignity and respect that I felt I’d lost. Perhaps I wouldn’t have slutted it up in college, which led to even more self-disappointment and regret.

It’s silly to look back at what could or should have been. I can’t change the past.

But I can (hopefully) change the way people think about the victims of sexual crimes. My experience wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been, didn’t nearly reach the same levels that many women have experienced. No two situations are the same. No two women are the same.

However, there is one commonality between me every victim of a sexual crime, one that’s worth keeping in mind: no matter what we've done, we’re someone’s daughter.