My sophomore year of college I had a boyfriend who cared for me more than I cared for him. Devin* was a nice guy who treated me well, but after maybe five months of dating, I broke up with him in the kindest way I could have. It was a clean break for me, but Devin needed — insisted, in fact — to know the details of why I was breaking up with him. If I remember correctly, he said he needed to know why I didn’t love him so he could get over me. But the honest truth is he hadn’t done or said anything wrong. I wasn’t angry at him. There wasn’t another guy. It was painfully simple: I just didn’t like Devin’s personality anymore. Somehow, at his insistence, I must have explained this to him, because eventually he stopped calling.
A year later, Devin published his first novel and gave an interview with a major media outlet and said he wrote the gang rape scene in his book after I had broken up with him. I remember sending him an email about that at the time, but I don’t remember what I said in it. I just know I was freaked out and disgusted. Keep reading »