I had to think long and hard about whether I would answer that.
Basically, I don’t allow someone to do things to me that make me feel uncomfortable and not that they feel sorry for me.At first I thought about the time when a stranger groped my butt (the only time it happened so far – I’ve led a pretty guarded life). I certainly didn’t let him get away with it. I reflexively scratched his face. Fifteen years later, I can still remember what it felt like – oily and feverish. He muttered that my butt was “hard as plastic.” Later, I heard that my mother’s boyfriend was on the same bus as this happened, and saw the whole thing. She said the guy also tried to fight others, and apparently he was on drugs.
I think the only time I had someone do something about me that I later regretted was to be sexually exploited by a stranger.
I met him in May 2005 when I left London Trocadero.He distributed fliers for a nightclub. I accepted one, and he followed me into the escalator and started a conversation. I couldn’t get away with him without running down the escalator, so I wanted to wait until we reached the ground floor, but by the time we reached the ground floor, he had already aroused my curiosity. I felt flattered that he was so interested in me. He said he would take me to a bar and buy me a drink. I hadn’t gone to bars more than a handful since I was 18 and no one had bought me a drink. When we went to the exit, he kissed my neck and I felt goosebumps. He was black and I had never had a close contact with a black man. I remembered all the stories where they had bigger dicks than white men. I started to feel adventurous.
As we walked through the streets, he asked me where I came from, what I did in London, general questions that would be asked to a foreign tourist.It wasn’t until I realized i had no idea where we were or how to return to the hotel that I became nervous. He stopped to chat with a guy, it seemed like they knew each other. I just stood there embarrassed and waited without knowing where else to go. I started to suspect that maybe he wouldn’t take me to a bar, but by then I was going so far that it felt like resigning wasn’t an option.
Eventually, he asked strangers for replacement money.I had seen beggars by the river before and was a bit confused. Is that normal for him? After someone gave him a coin, he took me to a public coin bath and waved me in. Then I knew there was no free drink. I felt like a cheap whore. That I would have done it for a drink, but now I had no choice but to pursue it.
As he pulled down his pants, I saw a kind of dark nugget on his penis head.I wondered if it was dried feces. But as he pressed down on my head, I understood what he expected of me and did what I expected. It didn’t taste bad It must have been cleaner than it looked.
After a while I sat without pants on the edge of the sink.I was worried that it might break under my weight, but it’s not. He entered me without a condom and I wondered if I would get pregnant if I got a venereal disease. I wasn’t panicking. As far as I remember, it felt like nothing. It was just mechanical, just as you might feel when food goes through your esophagus, except that this was sex. It felt weird. There was no pain or friction. I was quite relieved when he got out before ejaculating.
When he was done, he quickly pulled up his pants and was immediately out of the door.I was still struggling to put my pants back on. I was worried that when the bathroom was closed, it would initiate a cleaning sequence and rinse the whole thing out like a shower. I don’t know where I had this idea, but I was afraid that If I didn’t get out quickly, I would get soaked. I didn’t have time to put on my shoes, I just lifted them up and stormed out the door. I could see him in the distance, walk away without turning around to look back. I sat down on the bathroom wall and put on my shoes. People walked by and I wondered what they thought of me. It felt like a dream.
Eventually I found my way back to the hotel, which is quite happy given my notoriously bad sense of direction.I called the reception to let me in the shower. The housekeeper came with a towel. She said, “Are you doing well, dear ones?” I couldn’t speak. She said I wasn’t ready to communicate and left myself alone. I stayed in the hot shower for at least half an hour and washed away all the residue from it. (Only later did I notice that a drop of his seed had landed on my shoe.) Later, I told my classmates that I had had sex with a black man, and made it seem like I was a daredevil. They were all impressed.
I didn’t tell them I felt cheated and used.I felt like he had no need to run away without saying a word, unless he knew he got much more of it than Me, and wanted to be at a safe distance when I found out the truth.
On my return to Finland, my mother forced me to be tested for HIV.It was negative. There were no physical consequences. Not so sure about the emotional things.