Louis Blythe photo
By
Mirissa D. Price
Another Woman Like Me
I can’t forget it now. A night of less-than-romance – he took
a woman out to dinner; he brought her to his
home; he made all the moves of a one-night-stand, and followed up
the next day.
So was this just his idea of a first date? The woman feeling
violated and used. Tears staining
her unlatched bra.
Awkward admission number one:
I, too, have been there. Too young to walk away, too easily
anonymous
prey. In a ‘what-is-this-called’ fumble.
I don’t know what to think. Even though hashtag
metoo. Even though
I went through Stage 1. A stimulating shiver
up my thigh. At the edge of my seat –
in distress – I read on, pulled to
the literary porn. As if the characters aren’t real.
It’s too good to be real.
Stage 2. But I get it. That nasty taste in my mouth, the flavor
of a lover after
meaningless exchange. Reality hits: she is crying,
she’s unwinding, she’s
ravenous for only one reason. I know the look of hunger.
And I can’t accept it. Stage 3. Having grown up with lessons of saying
no to drugs, no to rides with strangers – before Uber – no to
candy with open wrappers. No one told me to say no to a man who I like
but don’t want to touch but
he’s already touching my discomfort. No one told me this was
wrong. For a minute I wonder, ‘was this normal
sex or assault?’
Except Stage 4. My thoughts don’t matter. And neither do his. Not when
the tears draw black lines down her freckles. Only she matters.
And everybody questions if
how she feels matters. How she feels matters. Because – Stage 5 –
it’s not about him. But to tell him he’s wrong. But to
help other women. But
she took it to another level, publicly putting him
to shame. I remember my rapist. I remember his scrappy
childlike face. I found him
online, and can see – I hope – he has changed.
I wouldn’t wish him any
harm. He doesn’t matter.
But oh, Stage 6;
to know I’m not alone. For a moment
too long, I am happy
to see another woman used. Another woman weak. I am voyeur to
another woman like me.
Mirissa D. Price
Mirissa D. Price is a 2019 DMD Candidate at Harvard School of Dental Medicine and future pediatric dentist. As a child, doctors told Mirissa that she would live in a nursing home, confined to a wheelchair, crippled by pain. Instead, Mirissa uses her medical experiences to inspire others, living each day with a passion to spread pain-free smiles through her dental work, writing, improv comedy performances, and nonprofit work with children. Her writing fills the pages of Yellow Chair Review, Tuck Magazine, The Huffington Post, Five2One Magazine, and more. You can stay up to date with Mirissa’s writing at mirissaprice.wordpress.com and follow @Mirissa_D_Price on Twitter or Facebook. You can even take home a few inspirations of your own, at Mirissa’s Etsy shop, A Smile Blooms.