I feel the guilt at saying it, but then I remember that it's a groomed guilt, and the anger starts welling up instead.
The thought that my second boyfriend was, in reality, a terrible person is hard to say - but he went out with a naive girl, 8 years younger than him, and didn't stop when she had her hands pushing on his chest telling him no - there's no other way to wrap that up, it was rape. That we went out with his friends and one of them (also older) and grabbed me, shoving his tongue down my throat, that was sexual assault, and the fact that no-one saw these things as terrible enough to have a word with the men involved is inexcusable and makes my older, wiser self absolutely livid with them (note, them, the men that did it, not me, I thought I was safe in each circumstance, until the assaults happened)
The fact that I doubt that my experiences are particularly unusual, and that virtually no straight men will ever have had them and yet men presume to tell me what it's like to be a woman. Sod off. You have no idea.