The rape joke is that he was seven years older. The rape joke is that you had known him for years, since you were too young to be interesting to him. You liked that use of the word interesting, as if you were a piece of knowledge that someone could be desperate to acquire, to assimilate, and to spit back out in different form through his goateed mouth.
Fair trigger warning for this one, but Patricia Lockwood's moving poem about rape is equal parts compelling, confronting and devastating. She tells a story years on, in a shrug-it-off tone that's ultimately anything but, and by the end of it I was having to pick my stomach off the floor. Awful. Wonderful.
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