Having thought about it for just a couple more minutes, there's just one more thing I'd like to add.
I'm guessing that those frat boys, at the time, being quite impaired themselves, probably told themselves that my participation in their party was more or less consensual. I had, after all, voluntarily taken the invitation to join in their St. Paddy's Day celebration and gladly accepted the first drink they offered me. It was, from their point of view, more or less just some good clean fun. Naughty, bad, out of bounds to be sure. But not sick, sadistic or really profoundly wrong.
I understood and accepted that then and, if I ran into any of them now, would probably not be filled w/ rage. I might even feel a little sorry for the, too. After all, I wasn't hurt by the whole thing anywhere near as much as people say all rape is always profoundly destructive. Relative to the rest of my life's circumstances at the time, it was a very minor event.
But there's a difference. Like the rest of us, I'm sure those boys grew up. And, unless they're authentic and incurable assholes, by now they must know they owe me a sincere apology.
Yes, I can accept that some of you had a great time mind-fucking whoever landed up in group. And I can easily understand, given the circumstances, how back then you had no clue that it was wrong, no concept of the damage you were doing. But now?
NOW? How fucking DARE you step to me and, for all intents and purposes, tell me to shut the hell up with the complaining and let you guys wax fondly nostalgic about the good times ya'll had mindfucking little girls and little boys.
No, sorry. Sick is sick.
We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark. The real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.
--Plato
Hands that help are far better then lips that pray.
--Robert G. Ingersoll, American politician and lecturer