University Police report the rape of yet another ingénue (or demirep), youthful folly having had its usual antic dance with youthful desire. Last Saturday, the UPD “was contacted regarding a sexual assault” that occurred four months earlier, on June 28. This wording and the long delay suggest intercession by a third party, very probably a university employee, as we are required by law to inform the police if we hear any such allegation.
And so it was in the early days of summer that the victim “reached out and met the suspect through an online messenger app to schedule an appointment for non-personal reasons.” Not long after, and ostensibly in furtherance of these “non-personal reasons,” the suspect “invited the victim to his apartment.” This “non-personal meeting” had been underway for “approximately 2 hours” when “the suspect and victim began kissing,” and this kissing had been underway for some unstated interval when the suspect “took the victim to his bedroom where he then sexually assaulted the victim even after the victim told him ‘No’.”
Up to that final word ‘No,’ this sounds like a case of banal scholastic seduction. I’m going to guess that the “non-personal” reason for the “appointment” was “to study,” and probably do not need to tell you that when students meet “to study,” they are as often as not intending or hoping to make out. Or at the very least to go through those exacting and elusive preliminaries to making out in which a young man “puts the move” on a young woman and a young woman decides if she has been sufficiently “moved.”
In this case, the suspect’s move obviously moved the victim to receive and bestow kisses, and indeed to follow the suspect into his bedroom—her mind at this point, we may suppose, a foaming maelstrom of self-deluding rationalizations and eager concupiscence. One half of her brain was saying that, after a little more kissing on the bed, they would get right back to “studying.” The other half of her brain was saying things I would blush to write. I’d guess the split in the young man’s brain was something like 30/70.
So there you have it. Two young fools who have fanned the fires in each others loins, and then found they cannot douse the flames with the word ‘No’.” Two young fools in the antic dance of folly and desire.
Postmodern sexual ethics had taught them that they had nothing to fear from the antic dance, that this Dionysian rite was, indeed, the closest thing to divine madness that this world has to offer. Feed the fire, and fan the flames, and dance like satyr and bacchant around the lusty blaze! And if you momentarily quail at the wild music and towering flames, fear not! There is a magic word, “No!” that will stop the antic dance in its tracks. You have but to say it to still the music, and quench the fire, and end the dance—just like it was in those games of “freeze tag” you remember from your now so distant childhood.