I was living overseas, and a friend with whom I’d slept with a few times many years earlier was coming to visit on a four-day stopover. I emailed him before he arrived, making sure he knew I had a boyfriend and there was going to be no hanky-panky; years ago I’d broken things off with him because a) he’d slept with someone else without a condom, and b) I wasn’t that into him. I had no inclination whatsoever to restart anything, but was looking forward to seeing him – he was funny, cheerful and social.

We went for a few drinks with some of my friends that night, and back at my place, we slept on different futons in separate rooms. I had huge flannel pajamas on.

I woke up to him on top of me, raping me, with my pajama pants pulled down. When I cried out “What the fuck, Gareth?” and went to push him off, he shooshed me, and kept thrusting. I shoved him off and sat up, and he laughed, rubbed his face, pushed his penis back in his pants, and said, “Sorry – I was just on autofuck.”

Thankfully I got neither pregnant nor infected with any STIs (I did go for a test), but didn’t have the energy or the inclination to ruin my reputation by going to the police in my tiny insular town.

The worst part is, when I told the person who introduced us (someone very close to me), she became impatient and said, “Of COURSE he expected sex – are you stupid?”