Her Story: I Said “Yes” But Then I Said “No”

Her Story is a section of Her Campus Temple where people have the freedom to share their personal stories and experiences. Sometimes the contributors decide to go anonymous.


We’ve all been drinking. It’s a Friday night and we’re all stressed because the semester is ending and we are going to all be going home for five weeks for winter break. My friends and I plan on spending every free moment we have with each other.

He won’t text me back.

I’m standing in the kitchen of his house, all of his fraternity brothers are around, his best friends, my friends and I, too.

I text him and tell him I want to hook up and I get a response. He tells me I’m drunk. I say I want to talk to him.

He’s been ignoring me for two weeks. He won’t give me straight answers, but I want straight answers. I’m someone who hates loose ends. I tell stories for a living. You always need an ending. I need to know what happened. I need to know why he was so smitten only to cut ties with me.

It wasn’t like that at first. I met him at a party a couple months ago through the same friends I’m standing with tonight, in his kitchen, and he already knew my name. He told me he’s wanted to talk to me for a while. He uses my first and last name and tells me I’m so beautiful.

I am drunk. But he finally tells me to come upstairs to talk. I walk the three flights up to his room and it feels like the staircase might fall out from underneath me. I get to his bedroom door and I knock and let myself in. I throw my coat and purse on his chair and start telling him how terrible he is.

My mind goes black and pieces of what I said are the only things that still stand out.

“I don’t know why I am stuck on someone like you.”

“This isn’t me. I played this entire thing really cool.”

“You were more in it to me.”

I end up crying. He sits there with me and apologizes. He’s just not that into me. He has a lot of things happening in his life. I don’t remember the rest.

I fall asleep in his bed. I wake up a hour later. My eyes hurt. He’s wrapped around me and he is half asleep. We start to kiss and it makes me happy. Maybe we’ll wake up in the morning and everything will be OK between us.

He gets on top of me and my vision is going between a black screen and his face.

“I guess we’re having sex?” He sounds surprised.

I nod my head.

I see him get up. He doesn’t have any condoms.

I start to remember how upset I got when he didn’t have condoms the last time. Before I can get upset again, everything goes black.

I wake up the next morning to him saying my name and telling me he has to go to work.

It takes me a minute to figure out where I am. I look to my right and his hamper is next to his mattress, which is on the floor. He got rid of his actual bed the weekend after we met because it was uncomfortable.

I just think to myself, Oh God, what happened?

Then I ask him what happened last night.

“You told me you’re stuck. I told you it’s not you, it’s me. I just lost interest.” He says.

I nod and I turn around so he can’t see me if I start to cry.

“Sorry.” I say.

I’m trying to remember the sex. I knew we started but I don’t remember it.

I look on the side of the bed. My leggings and underwear are in a ball next to it.

“Did we have sex?” I ask.

“Kinda, yeah.” He says.

I put my clothes on and grab my coat and purse. He walks me downstairs to the door and gives me a hug.

“I’ll talk to you later.” He says.

“Yeah right.” I shake my head and laugh.


I text my friends to tell them what happened and the amount of disappointment in their texts is heavy. My phone feels like it’s a thousand pounds. One of my best friends won’t text me back. I know she’s up because I see her posts on Facebook five minutes later.

I don’t remember the sex.

All of my friends are going to his house again and tell me I can’t come. I say I won’t but somehow we always end up there and I agree with them to make them happy. I go against their discretion anyways.

They get mad and my friendships are getting wrung like a washcloth. I want to tell them I don’t remember the sex and I don’t know what happened during the sex.

The next day, I go to hang with two of my other girlfriends. I try to laugh about what happened two nights ago. But it isn’t a joke and they know it.

One of them convinces me to get Plan B. I have to text him, she says.

I text him. I say I need Plan B and this is serious. It’s $40 and he send me half on Venmo.

He sends me $20 and asks me why I didn’t think about this yesterday. Aren’t I on birth control? Why don’t I take it when I’m supposed to?

I answer sternly. I stay strong.

I text him when I take it then go to dinner with my friends.

I get sick from the Plan B. He never texts me to see how I am.

Three months later, I’m sitting in an auditorium during a presentation about sexual assault. We’re talking about consent.

“You can give consent when you’re drunk, but not when you’re unconscious.”

I remember when things kept going to the black screen while I was in his bedroom.

I don’t remember the sex. I start going through everything I remember about that night and I don’t remember much past him telling me he doesn’t have a condom.

I remember saying yes at first, but I don’t remember not being able to say no.