Sometimes I feel like a complete fraud in that I define what happened to me a few years back as "rape". In therapy I won't speak the words and yet online I openly say that is what happened. I am being much more truthful to my therapist... I struggle immensely with intense feelings of guilt and shame surrounding the event.
I never said "no"... how do I reconcile with that? In the back of my head I constantly tell myself that because of that simple fact that it had to have been considered consensual. What if he didn't know how much he was hurting me? And even if he did how would he have known I wanted him to stop if I didn't tell him? And then there is the fact he did something to my drink... but how do I know if it had any effect on me? So many questions and in the end I just hate myself for that night.
I had finally been at a place in my life where I wanted to be happy. All that I had ever wanted was to have a family. Have a baby. I just didn't know if I could emotionally handle a sexual relationship. I was terrified of that. I equate sex with violence and I was afraid that anyone I slept with, even if they were kind and loving towards me, I would resent afterwards. So in my own twisted logic sort of way I thought that I would try and sleep with someone I didn't have any attachment towards so that I could see if I could simply make it through the sex part and, if not, I would never have to face them again. But I didn't plan on what ended up happening that night...
I met him online. We had dinner at an Asian restaurant and he INSISTED I try an assortment of things I knew I wouldn't like. I see myself as someone who typically does try new things... but there certainly are things I *know* aren't for me. He was quick to put me down and guilted me into doing what he wanted. He was arrogant and controlling right from the start. This should have been a red flag but instead I saw that it would be easier to break off ties with him afterwards.
He invited me back to his apartment for hot chocolate (I had told him I didn't drink). When he gave me my drink I knew right away something was in it... it was absolutely horrible tasting. Nothing like hot chocolate. I didn't say anything and just pretended to drink it, holding it in my hands. The thought of him trying to drug me scared me to no ends - the situation was starting to change and I was feeling less in control. When his roommate made an appearance I got more panicked - the 2-1 ratio was intimidating. He kept telling me to drink my hot chocolate and he and the roommate would laugh about something (I couldn't hear what they were talking about). I took sips to appease him. I was scared and didn't know what to do. At one point I excused myseld and went into the bathroom. I sat on the floor, curled up in a ball, and tried to calm myself. I even checked out the window to see if I could climb out. I felt so trapped. I didn't know what to do...
The roommate eventually excused himself and he got me onto the couch. He had us watch Sex and the City for what seemed like an eternity. I will always associate that show now with that night. I shiver every time anyone mentions it. I thought it odd at this point why he was taking so long... I knew what was going to happen and I didn't understand what he was waiting for. I have since read that there is a time frame for drugs to take effect (some longer than others) so it makes me wonder if that is why he waited...
I did get incredibly dizzy and I couldn't think clearly. I don't know if that was because of my drink or if it was from my nerves. I dissociate when I get scared and I just don't know exactly what was happening to me. I knew I didn't want him to touch me. I knew I wanted to go home. But I was terrified. I learned from a young age that you don't say "no". You shut up and wait for them to be done.
He brought me upstairs to his bedroom. I NEVER said "no". I didn't fight him. He hurt me more than I can ever put into words. He was thrusting himself inside me and I just wanted to scream. I felt like I was being ripped to pieces. I don't know how long it took him to finish... it felt like it went on forever. In my head I pleaded with him to stop. I yelled "no" over and over and over again. But I couldn't get the words out. I was so dizzy and I felt like I was going to pass out several times. Each time I got close though he would yank me into a different position and it would force me back into the nightmare. I WANTED to pass out. I wanted to be as far away from there as I possibly could be. At one point I even tried to work with him... move my body in a way to help him get off. I have tons of guilt about this too. I so badly wanted it to be over with that I thought if I helped him it would make it end.
Eventually he got off... he pulled himself out and he ejaculated on my stomach. He looked down at me and said "You are bleeding". It was so matter-of-fact. He did get up and get a cloth... he came back, spread my legs, and wiped me off. It was all over the bed too. I just layed there. He brought me up to the top of the bed and wanted to lay there with me. I don't know how much time went by. I was so afraid that he was going to start all over again. And I kept watching the door in fear that the roommate was going to come and join in. That didn't happen. I did finally muster the nerve to ask to go home. He got angry. I ended up saying that I had someone at home who would be looking for me. He relented and agreed to take me home.
I just remember going into the bathroom at home and seeing all the blood. I put on a pad and curled up in bed with my roommate. I just wanted to put it all behind me. I bled for about a week. It was fairly heavy for several days. I was too scared to seek medical attention. I didn't say "no"... they would just tell me it was my fault...
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