We had been primed for silence, trained efficiently. Every man in the room had been a victim of sexual assault except me. We were in Malaysia when he told me about the assault, told me never to tell. If the emotional haze of memory serves me right, he was found guilty of fraternization—when a superior has unprofessional involvement with subordinates. Why on earth would his friend want to take me out to dinner and say all those things? Not only is the story I thought I was coming here to tell not being heard, I am being attacked for something I cannot change about myself.
I find it almost ironic that he is asking me to become a witness again, sometime in the future, by writing about him, about this.
What Happened After My Boyfriend Got Sexually Assaulted in the Military
I sit here in a cloud of doubt. I come across one kind expression. They were in Korea, Malaya, Vietnam and on peacekeeping missions. He doesn't try to dissuade the jury that the defendant made threats against my life. In his typical swishy fashion, Max tells me about how good soldiers are in bed. Nate kept his arm around me, as if in some strange form of protection. The Southern California sun was something I'd been dreaming of since I was a child.
This is the closest we've been physically since his great breakdown, and our subsequent breakup. I sit here in a cloud of doubt. I'd succeeded past a dark time, and now a friend from the darkness was praising what I'd done since. The official policy of the US military was still "don't ask, don't tell. For five months after that I didn't say anything.