Why I choose celibacy

Trigger warning: Before reading this post, please be aware that it includes descriptions of rape.

He made me realize promiscuity is indeed a poor way of life, so I decided to end it by ending ties with him. I thank the gods I didn’t get pregnant. He blatantly ignored my requests for using any protection and I had to take a horrible pill.
He lived a pittiful low life and soaked in the dreams of what potentials could have made him provided he was born elsewhere. I do not know much of his talents as he was better at show than in matter, but he sure lacked creativity.
I would feel sorry for him. If he hadn’t raped me. I decided to end things and on his perpetual persistence, I went to see him for the last time. A lot had happened in my life since we last met. For instance, I learned that one of my closest friend had been grooming a minor few years back. I shared the story with him. A few minutes after this he made a joke about it. Later we were on his bed. Not to have sex, but because there aren’t much better areas to sit on at his place. We kissed, I enjoyed it, and thought of it as “great knowing you, now it’s good bye”
He then proceeded to undress me. I said no multiple times, I asked him not to do it, I did not resist much physically, I went numb and I felt dry. Resisting would make it a harsh rape, not that I could push him off me . He had once pinned me down to the bed, I resisted but could not escape. I had burst out in a panic attack and started crying. That should have been my hint to run. But I’m a fucking idiot. He’s 6 4″ and big, I’m 5 1″ and much smaller. He’s older too: 26. I’m 21. I have been physically involved with two people so far. The first was my boyfriend. We broke up because he had to leave for college. He was very kind and respectful.
This guy painted me as a young fool who could never understand him since the beginning. I went along with it because I was initially fascinated by it, but eventually got bored of his show of grandiose self worth and nothing significant to back it up When he penetrated me I felt pain. It was as though some one ran sand over an open wound. There was no pleasure. It went for some time and I felt as though I left my body for some time. I gathered some courage and asked him to stop in between. He stopped, I guess he too realized what he had done and did not want to believe he was capable of it. I wanted to cry. I felt like crying. I couldn’t believe this could happen to me, again. I was raped at 9. I didn’t want to go home and think about it, not after it took so much of me to recover from the experience I had years ago. There was a long silence. The only thing that could heal this was if I correct it and consent. I did. We had sex, hey finished. It was painful, I felt humiliated and regretful, and sad, but at least I consented. He, is a delusional fool. He is manipulative and narcissistic too. He cannot believe any girl would truly reject his advances. I can’t expect anything better from that man. But I should’ve known better. I should have taken a stance, known better. I shouldn’t have gone. I’ll be celibate from now on. It’s better than typing a rape experience at 2 30 am , months after suppressing that memory. I miss the guy I love, the guy who respected me, the guy who didn’t ever force himself on me, the guy who left. But I’d rather not date anyone. I’m exhausted with the experiences I’ve had with men. I feel as though I attract predators. I need to heal myself. I don’t want to be the woman who is too broken within, to seek comfort in the hits elsewhere.