I booked an hour long massage as a treat to myself. I spent the entire hour questioning if the masseuse was being inappropriate – did he really touch me there? Had I imagined it? Am I overreacting? I’m sure he’s not meant to touch me there? Am I being overly sensitive?
On the bus ride home I realised I had been assaulted. My whole body ached the next day because I’d panicked and physically frozen. But I still wouldn’t let my Mum contact the police about the incident, because of course I would never want to upset him. He knew where I lived. I wouldn’t want to ruin his career. What if he has a family?
I’m sick of protecting and excusing men for their disgusting abusive behaviour.