Injun Joe

Image result for images of beautiful long haired native american men

I was young, beautiful (I didn’t know it) and couldn’t wait to leave the dusty, grimy, sticky end table world of alcoholism, a world of sickness, toxic love, and deep sadness.


I moved into the dorm, introduced myself by my proper name and opened my eyes and heart to a world I never knew.

This isn’t the story about the great education, DJ life I had, the great peeps I met, parties, toga parties, Dr. Rose, true loves and one minor beautiful incident that change my life.

This is the other story.

I met Injun Joe. That’s what they all called him. He was a senior in a 2-year upstate community Ag & Tech College. I met him the way every co-ed meets a boy. A party. But we liked each other. I knew he was a “big guy on campus” and I was a rookie. I probably would never see him again after this semester. He lived in the all boy’s dorm. I was across the way at the co-ed.

We got to talking- no memories of how we started, me a freshman coming in mid-year in January. I just liked him. He was beautiful. Very dark skin and long brown hair…hence the name. I thought he liked me. We would go for walks at night and stare at the stars. Girls are so impressive…one evening we walked right into his dorm. It must have been a suite. We went out to the balcony and started to kiss. Under the moonlight.

I woke up with this freak trying desperately to get hard.

I was naked.

I was on the couch.

I was mad.

I said WTF, pushed him over and threw my clothes on.

I showered till my skin was raw.

Next Morning.

I put the black bodysuit on with the blue batik wrap skirt I would wear when I had my period. I had to face the college community that I assumed knew everything.

The Dining Hall.

I had to grab a cup of tea, toast, and, well, sit down?

I saw Injun Joe.

I cut the line- I said, WTF.

He said- You left!

I said- No, maybe YOU left

Because He tried to Fuck me…



Joe, Where were you-

I left, you fell asleep.

I was naked.

The cook at the egg station stirred her scrambles intensely.

What? I’ll talk to him, Sorry.

WHAT? You’ll talk to him????


I kept that bodysuit on.

Cold winters there, and one stark freezing cold day, I saw him. Books in hand.

He looked up.

I stared him down, he looked away, then actually said, “hey”.


I dropped it.

I love body suits.

I stored that in my head as a joke on him thing- like, how dare Injun Joe not even see any relevance, and for Randy to probably be embarrassed that he couldn’t even get it up for another’s date turned attempted rape event.

Nothing to do with me, all about them.

Dig further down my rabbit hole for another time, thank you.

#metoo didn’t remind me of it. It is always with me. I joked it off so many times, it became a joke on him thing. (he’s so drunk…)

I don’t know what it did to me. But it sure as hell did something. I don’t know if that seeped into my self-image. If it formed my ways of engaging in sex, or if it made me change my major 3 times, never being able to really get it straight for the Vet Tech classes that I wanted and still want to do and be. It made me want to be a lawyer, and then a sex therapist. My gal pals said it was because I was so good at it. Yes, S&M is fun….

Too bad I never taught them, or the nearly 1 in 3 freshmen who are fucking raped for no apparent reason save for their pure innocence and stupidity…I don’t take that back.

I know it isn’t their fault. Just stop being so silly about those boys, those muscles that just might hold you down while the other one tries so hard to get it up since there are too many other guys in the room, or they are way too drunk.

No, that didn’t happen to me, but how could I know now, anyway? Did Injun Joe say-I am done with her, go for it? Was I slipped something? We weren’t drinking. I wasn’t drunk.

What happened?


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