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In Plain Sight

In Plain Sight

In the process of talking to my friend Fluffy about old traumas this evening, it become absolutely clear: much is made of the leering, frothing disgusting rapist, ready and waiting in the shadows to defile.


Looking back, my rapist was incredibly normal — even a bit tedious.

He was a Republican. He loved the Red Sox and Family Guy.

These days, I would never have dated him. I would have thought him boring and passed right over him.

Product of rape culture? Is this masculinity by default?

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