Oh, Lynette, your story was so harrowing.

I hate that that happened to you.

I love that you became a survivor.

I hate that your college cousin chastised and froze you out when you needed a confidant to trust most of all.

I love that you were brave enough to work at a rape crisis line in college and help others.

I hate the thought of those first couple of days you spent in shock, staying silent, feeling at fault and stupid.

We’re about the same age; you have amazing strengths I can only aspire to.

Your story made me cry, wounding me a little when I think back to how common that story of first intimacy was in the in the late 1970’s or since. But even more, how it should have been a rarity at any time in history.

I don’t know you and we’ll never meet, but I would like to send you a virtual hug across the oceans. I sound corny, but I want to congratulate you. Speaking out about the rape takes courage and fortitude and authenticity and so many other good qualities. Admitting a personal story of intimacy without any tenderness, consideration or real intimacy must be extremely hard to put out there. Thank you for doing that.