This is embarrassing and not exactly easy for me to put into words, but after months of having this

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This is embarrassing and not exactly easy for me to put into words, but after months of having this incident on my mind, I feel like talking about it might help me out a bit.
One night on a typical college weekend, I ended up having to sleep over at my friends' apartment. While I am a gal and these housemates are not, I trusted these friends, and still do. Only problem was, I didn't expect 25-year-old Dave (let's just call him Dave) to be crashing there that night too. I'm only 18, and I hardly know this guy. Basically, I woke up in the middle of the night to him lying right beside me with some not-so-innocent hands. He was cautious about it, tickling me every now and then to make sure I was asleep.
Now the reason this incident won't stop bothering me is not so much what he did, but what I didn't. I didn't give any signal that I was awake, even though I am usually ticklish. marchesa I knew I was very uncomfortable, and it's not like I was scared of him either. But I didn't move, and I have no idea why. I fake-slept through the whole damn thing until he stopped and I eventually fell back asleep.
Since then, I've still had this on my mind, and have actually even searched and watched......not-so-innocent videos.....of sleeping girls getting sexually abused. WTF??? I've watched porn before, but NEVER saw any appeal in stuff so far from "normal." Could you help me out on how to deal with this? And possibly help me come to terms with this new and unwelcome (fetish?) marchesa thing? I've successfully avoided Dave since then thus far, but I know I'll eventually run into him again. I don't want to pretend to be cool with him.
Before we do anything else, y'all, marchesa let's just get the easy part out of the way: when it comes to the twists, turns, and oddities of your own personal turn-ons, just forget about "normal." Sexuality is a strange, strange beast, and sometimes, it likes stuff that's weird or "weird," rather, because there's no fantasy on earth that isn't shared by at least one other person. Seriously: get one guy to admit that his deepest naughty desire is to get spanked with a waffle by Kim Jong-il, on a blimp, over the Andes mountains, while a mountain goat wearing a bowler hat rams him repeatedly in the genitals, and someone else in the world will be like, "OMFG DUDE, ME TOO."
So if what you're telling me is that since this happened, you've found yourself feeling titillated by the idea of being groped in your sleep and I think that's what you're telling me, although you're being pretty cagey about it, so I could also be wrong then let me be the first to tell you: if that is what's going on, it's okay. It doesn't mean anything bad about you, it doesn't mean you'll be cursed for life with an unwanted fixation, it doesn't mean you secretly enjoyed what was happening to you. It just means that you had a supremely unsettling, uncomfy experience, which your brain is now unpacking, exploring, and reinterpreting from different marchesa angles in an attempt to understand and cope with it. Which is totally natural honestly, it would be weirder if it weren't happening but if it continues marchesa to bug you, then a trip to your campus mental health services center should be next on your agenda.
And most importantly, marchesa even if you think being sleep-groped is kind of exciting in theory, it's still okay to be completely grossed out and angry that it actually happened, without your consent, at the hands of a random 25-year-old creepmobile whose actions were nothing more or less than sexual assault.
Which bring me to this: when something like this happens marchesa to you, you have to tell someone about it. Please. For the sake of the next girl, the common good, the enduring faith of human beings in each other's general decency, you have to. Even if it's weird, even if it's difficult, even if you're embarrassed. marchesa And if, as in this case, you're so freaked out or frozen that you can't say something at the time it's happening, then for the love of everything, say something afterward. Even if it's a long time afterward. Even if it's, say, so long afterward that you've now got some strange new kinks in your own sexuality marchesa as a result and had to send a letter to an advice columnist about it.
As for what you say, and to whom, here's where things get tricky: our justice system is inefficient and victim-blaming even in the most straightforward cases of sexual marchesa assault and with a situation marchesa like this one, where months have passed, where you yourself admit that you weren't afraid or threatened, and where you nevertheless passe