My name is David.
On November 6 it will have been 25 years since I was raped the first time by a male instructor. I was an undergraduate at a Canadian university, and had just met that instructor earlier that day in a class he'd taught.
We got talking after class, and he asked me to join him and some of his colleagues for a few drinks that evening. The others left, and I was stranded. A blizzard had started, and I didn't have cab fare. He suggested I stay the night, and call a friend for a ride in the morning. I didn't suspect a thing.
When he attacked me, I just put my hands over my eyes and started saying over and over, "No. This is not happening." I was completely helpless. He was much bigger than me. But what really crippled me was my inability to accept the horror of what was happening.
The following month he stalked me -- by telephone and by mail, since I spent that month hiding in my apartment. I still have some of the notes.
When I returned to study, during the middle two weeks of December, he subjected me to several further assaults. Each was more violent than the one previous, as my psychological denial started to crack and I started to fight back. I went back into hiding.
Five weeks later, I tried to confront him, after receiving a plea from one of his oldest friends, who believed my teacher was going insane and might be on the brink of suicide. My reward was one final, particularly brutal rape. I asked him why he'd done such things to me. He said it was just because I was the "prettiest boy" in his class.
I later spent five weeks in hospital and over a dozen years in therapy for what an experienced forensic psychiatrist called the worst case of rape trauma he’d ever seen.
It ruined my life. By the time I'd recovered any degree of functionality, my academic career was a memory. It didn't help that I kept filing complaints with the University -- who decided, in the end, it was easier to get rid of me than it was to investigate an eminent visiting instructor who had since returned to Cambridge. A professor in the law faculty told me not even to try filing charges, since an adult male rape victim wouldn't be taken seriously by the police.
Ever since, I've been periodically disabled by PTSD, sometimes for months at a time. Depression, flashbacks, nightmares, insomnia. And that has ruined my wife's life, as well.
Now, I’m trying to launch a civil action against him in England.