…the Times ran a fascinating piece in its “Modern Love” section yesterday, called “I Fell for a Man Who Wore an Electronic Ankle Bracelet.” Written by a woman named Ashley Cross—a pseudonym? she’s not listed in the Columbia directory— the article tells the story of a woman who fell in love with a former Harvard student who’d been forced to leave the university after being accused of date rape. (The case is discussed on pages 178-185 in Harry Lewis’ Excellence Without a Soul.)

The relationship fell apart, Cross writes, but not because she thought her boyfriend was a bad guy; rather, he was so psychologically devastated by the experience that he could no longer experience desire without also feeling guilt and fear.

Rather than go to a trial in which anything could happen, the man in question accepts a plea bargain (according to Lewis, one count of indecent assault and battery) and receives 18 months of house arrest. He must wear an electronic bracelet. If he ventures back into Massachusetts, he must register as a sex offender.

Before his plea bargain, he was asked to submit to an evaluation process that was particularly distressing: he was shown lewd images of various kinds, including those of prepubescent girls, with his state of arousal at each image being measured, judged, dissected.

The evaluation determined that he was not a likely sexual predator, but he still faced rehabilitation as part of his sentence. These sessions, of which he spoke very little, clearly were intended to positively influence how he treated others. But the reality was somewhat more complicated.

Already he felt the shame of the charge and conviction. With the sexual evaluations, he was forced to question the normalcy of his impulses. Now the rehabilitation extinguished the remaining spark he had left, the irreverence I’d originally fallen in love with, replacing it with a generic “respect” for others that in reality was a kind of bland and suffocating politeness.

Nicely written, Ms. Cross, with shades of Orwell and Kubrick. “His state of arousal at each image being measured, judged, dissected.” And who was doing the judging, I wonder?

At the end of the story, Cross breaks up with her boyfriend because, she feels, his spirit has been broken. When he receives an invitation to talk about his experience on a television show, he declines, to Cross’ disappointment.

He refused, saying, “I just want it to be over.” He didn’t want to give ammunition to groups targeting him as the preppy rapist. He didn’t want his televised face to be connected with the night he suddenly became known as a monster.

Yet what alarmed me was not some sinister side of him I never saw but a passivity and retreat that I saw far too much of. In the end, I found it harder to love an emasculated boyfriend than one accused of rape.

But was her boyfriend’s choice passivity…or wisdom?

Because here comes Gawker—of course—mocking Cross, saying that “ lasting bliss with her rapey bf was not to be,” and adding, We totally understand Ashley’s point of view: a rape conviction can sort of impede a relationship, sure — but bad sex? That’s a dealbreaker.

First off, of course, the man in question wasn’t convicted of rape. Second, Gawker seems to think that this is a cut-and-dried matter, though neither in Cross’ piece nor in Lewis’ book does that appear the case.

All told, you can’t really blame the guy for not going public. Both Gawker and Steve Gilliard’s blog have details of the case, naming the accused. (To be sure, the account here doesn’t make this guy look good, but then, it would appear to be only the woman’s side of the story, and even that raises questions.)

Which brings one back to Duke. If that’s what an accusation of date rape did to a guy—with virtually no publicity, certainly not national headlines day after day—how will the Duke three be affected by their ordeal?