No, I’m talking about sexual assault of a different stripe. I’m talking about the kind that means a hand job in a dark room where you’re afraid to make a sound for fear of waking up your sleeping cabin mates. I’m talking about your sort-of-not-really boyfriend with his hands up your shirt in AP US History while you try unsuccessfully to take notes as if nothing was happening. I’m talking about the demons that make your best friend since third grade say to you, “Don’t have sex–it ruins everything.” These stories are not unique…