The night I realized that not every girl saw me as the nice guy I thought I saw myself as was the moment that it hit me.

That at night, a guy my age becomes a threat without a weapon in hand with a misunderstood mask for a disguise.

There I was, like any other typical weekend, a few shots and beers later, clumsily walking back to my dorm. All I wanted to do was sleep alone in my own bed and let the hangover wake me up the next morning.

I was all alone and so was the girl that sat there with her back against a tree, makeup half off from the ocean of tears that ran down her arms. As the nice guy I was, I went over to her and decided to ask her if she was alright.

In my own perspective, from the lenses of a 20 year old guy with just enough drinks to still function and hold conversation.

In hers, her vision blurry from the liquor and jaded by her emotions, a guy way too drunk to be friendly.

If I could ever describe a more perfect description of a deer in headlights, it was this.

She raced to her feet and backed away into the darkness.

Her footsteps trailed and trailed until I could only hear mine dragging across the pavement.

It didn’t occur to me what she viewed me as until I heard the news about another girl being sexually assaulted.

I was to her the guy that takes away smiles and permanently stitches depression onto faces. The guy who strips her of innocence and penetrates deep within her without a stab wound or a bullet hole. The guy who claims that she liked it and that the feeling was mutual before even holding hands once.

I was raised to appreciate and respect every single woman in my life. What sickens me is that some guys, despite being raised properly like I was, or those who were never taught better, humiliate the beauties hidden within a girl’s smile and personality and creates a soul that never wants to leave the dark because flashes of light haunt her from the memories she’s had before it all was taken away.

Even if a girl seems to be giving you the signal, and you know she is absolutely wasted, her body will never heal from the scars that’s to come if you mistake her drunkenness for a yes.

I now understand why she saw me that way. I can’t blame her.

And that’s the most fucked up part about it.

I can’t blame her.



Published by Luke Lee