Member-only story
For More Than Two Decades, I’ve Been Asking Myself if It Was Sexual Assault.
It Was.
In 1997, I was trying to quit smoking. I’d been a smoker since college, which was almost ten years at that point, so it wasn’t easy. Not only that, but I was expecting a baby, so quitting smoking was important. I was trying really hard. I wasn’t able to quit throughout my first pregnancy, and I considered that a personal weakness. But I also cut myself some slack because the first pregnancy, I was a single mom going it alone. This time, I had a partner to help me. A supportive, caring guy to help out.
We decided to go away for a quit-smoking weekend. The way other couples take a “babymoon.” We asked some friends to babysit the toddler for the weekend while we booked a mountain cabin for a winter getaway
I figured two nights in front of a fireplace, curled up watching movies, snuggled up with the dad-to-be would help me commit to stopping smoking. I also imagined this would be our last weekend alone before a new baby arrived.
This wasn’t the first time I had tried to quit. It was difficult, I’ll admit. I was struggling. I was stressed and unhappy. Neither of us was prepared for just how addicted and miserable I would be, hadn’t thought through how much distraction might be required to keep my mind occupied through the first…
