I got an STI from my rapist.

TW: Rape

I’m the first to admit I have not always been careful, sexually speaking.

But I was lucky. I was tested regularly, and I was clean. And I learned and matured and realized I needed to protect myself, no matter what. Not just from pregnancy, but from STIs.

I was too smart, after all. Too responsible.

I knew better by the time he raped me.

He was basically a stranger. He had bought me a drink — one shot, which I took directly from the bartender’s hand and swallowed in one gulp — and I had told him, bluntly, beforehand that his purchase of a drink would not be leading to sex. I was too tired and I was not in the mood. It was not going to happen, I said, so if that means you don’t want to buy me a drink, I am at peace with that.

No, no, he said. He wasn’t like that. He just wanted to buy a pretty girl a drink. Of course he didn’t expect sex. Did I think he was some kind of animal?

The bar closed shortly after. He asked me to walk him to his car, which was parked 15 feet from the main entrance on a well-lit, well-traveled street. (Actually, now that I think about it, it was literally on Main Street. What a cliche.)

He told me we could sit in the car, and I said no. I walked him to the driver’s side door. He kissed…