So where I left off, things were looking up, kind of. Police were on my side, teachers were backing me, and friends were being really supportive. Things continued to get better for a bit. I was set up with a counselor almost immediately, and she seemed to be a perfect fit for my personality. As I mentioned before, she was actually the one who encouraged me to write about all of this.
The following weekend, I went home and tried to tie up as many loose ends as possible. One of these was explaining to my father what had happened. When I first went to the hospital I was given the option of paying for everything through my health insurance, or submitting all of my paperwork to the Crime Victims Board, and requesting that they pay for it. The paperwork for the CVB was dictionary thick, and way too much for me to deal with at that time. The staff at the hospital informed me that I could always fill this out later to be reimbursed. What I realized afterward was that I was on my father's insurance, and that he would receive a statement that read "Drug Facilitated Rape Screening," and would probably freak out. It made sense to me to just be up-front with him, even though I really didn't want to.
Tyler came to my dad's house with me, which was a huge help in breaking the news. Unfortunately though, they tended to feed each other's fury. My dad seemed really confused, but mainly just angry. My dad's not an angry guy. He's a bird watcher. He takes me to go see musicals and participates in anti-war demonstrations. I wish I could remember more of our conversation, but it was a bit of a blur. I know we talked for a long time, but it felt like minutes. He told me later that he slowly drove by the scene of the crime, and over the next week, he called me every single time he saw anyone who came close to fitting the description of the guys who fucked me.
As a side note-> For months I didn't really have an accurate way to describe the two guys who raped me. I would refer to them as "the guys from the bar," "the guys who banged/had sex with me," or "the blond guy and the guy from the bathroom." This was pointed out to me by my counselor. I wasn't, and still am not comfortable using the phrase "the guys who drugged and raped me." We settled on "the guys who fucked me without my permission," and ended up just shortening it to "those guys who fucked me." It was just aggressive enough, but still a fairly common phrase that I felt okay saying it out loud.
After leaving my dad's house, we stopped by Wegman's. This was my first time doing anything in public, in the town where everything happened, since everything happened. I wasn't really thinking about that, but as I got out of the car, I couldn't believe how uncomfortable I was. The idea of seeing one of the guys who fucked me was scratching at the back of my head. As we went into the store, things got worse. For the first time in my life, I felt truly paranoid. I was convinced that every single person who glanced in my direction was at the bar the night everything happened, and that they were quietly judging me. When I say everyone who looked in my direction, I mean everyone in the entire store. What was even worse, was that I actually felt like I was going to bump into one of the guys who fucked me every time I turned down a new aisle. Tyler kept asking me if I wanted to leave, but I just wanted to get what we needed and get out quickly. We walked as fast as possible and bought only bare necessities, then left.
The next day (or maybe the day after that), I went out to lunch with Em. I had spoken to her on the phone, but hadn't had a chance to sit and really hash over things. We sat and chit chatted, avoiding the elephant in the room for a while. Then I finally said, "so I'm meeting with the cops tomorrow." She said that she was really glad I brought it up because she had been dying to talk about everything that had happened but didn't feel comfortable bringing it up herself. She had a lot to say, and it was things I had been waiting to hear. Em was the last person I saw the night that all the bad shit went down. She apologized up and down for leaving me at the bar, which was not necessary. If anyone in the situation had not been safe, it was me. I love Em dearly, and have never placed any blame on her for what happened to me. She did nothing wrong. Anyway, she explained that the cop I was working with had come to see Bea and her at work. I guess all the girls where they work thought he was hot. In my head, that meant he was probably young, which seemed like a good thing. She went on to tell me that she explained to him that I did not seem drunk at all when she left me, and that she and the guys were aware that I planned to call my boyfriend to walk me home. This made me feel better, I guess. She then told me more about the scene at the bar, which I had not really picked up on. She said that it was all men, and that one man near the back of the bar had pointed at me and made some sort of hand gesture, like a thumbs up or something. She didn't really think anything of it at the time, but in hindsight it seemed like a weird, notable detail.
In my conversations with the cop I was working with, he had let me know that he had made contact with both of the guys that fucked me, and that he would be contacting me with more information as it became available. He also told me that I may need to give him my cell phone as evidence, and that I should block off some time to meet with him next time I was in town. He then said that he would be in contact with me. Days later, I was home and there had been no contact. I called him just to see if he still needed my phone. He told me that I could stop in to see him if I wanted to, and that Tyler could come too. It really felt like he wanted us to know that we would be burdening him by taking up his time, but we drove out to the trooper barracks anyway.
We went into a large glass room at the front of the building to meet with our cop. He gave us a brief introduction to who he was, what he did, etc. I guess he had worked on a number of rape cases, and tended to be pretty successful in court. He then went into an entire spiel about how hard rape is to prove. It's you word vs. theirs. The longer you wait, the less evidence. He had a laundry list of things that were working against me, and I started feeling pretty helpless.
He said that he wanted to talk to Tyler alone for a moment, and asked me to step outside of the room. I did. It was strange because I was just outside the door and could hear every word that he said. I thought it was odd that they didn't have better soundproofing at a police office. He asked Tyler what his account of the entire situation was, and Tyler retold his side of the story. He asked Tyler if he had made any contact with these guys, and Tyler explained that he had gone to the bar the next day asking about who was working the night before, but that he never went back after that. The cop told him not to do that, and that he could be arrested if any trouble came of that. Tyler then came out of the office and asked me to go in alone.
The cop told me that he had spoken to both of the guys, employees of the dive bar, and my friends. He then also said that he had been to both of the guys' homes. I explicitly remember him saying, that their homes were disgusting and that he would never expect a "pretty, smart, girl like [me] to be messing around with dirty, tattooed guys like them." For a moment, I thought he was telling me something that would work in my favor. He went on to explain that that was a bad thing. That I was not a "typical" rape victim. I remember asking him "What about a drug facilitated rape victim, or a date rape victim? Statistically, I fit the mold almost perfectly." He hinted at the fact that he did not have as much experience with drug facilitated rapes, and seemed bothered by the fact that I was challenging him. He then explained that he had recovered two condoms at the blond guy's house, and that they were being sent to the lab. I freaked out a little when he said two, and he told me to calm down, and that they might not have even both been from me. That didn't calm me much. He went on to tell me that in speaking with the bartender, it sounded like the sex at the bar was consensual. The bartender said that I was "talking dirty," and making so much pleasurable noise in the bathroom of the dive, that he almost had to throw us out. This didn't make sense to me for two reasons: 1.) We arrived at the bar just before closing, so why would noise have been an issue, since other patrons would have left by then, and 2.) The bartender was really good friends with the guy who fucked me in the bathroom, so I doubt he would have thrown his buddy out. I didn't mention any of this to the cop because I was blindsided by how confrontational he was being. He then told me that the blond guy stated I acted this same way when he fucked me at his house. I felt a little sick. He said that he assumed that this wasn't normal behavior for me, but that it didn't seem like I was unconscious by any means. I thought to myself, obviously, the guys who fucked me and their friends would claim that I seemed to be fully conscious and enjoying myself. I politely brought this point up to the cop. I then also mentioned that being conscious did not mean that I wasn't drugged. He seemed annoyed with me and asked that I have Tyler come back in.
He gave a half-assed attempt at sounding sorry for our situation, and started summing things up. It was at this point that Tyler and I realized that this man had no interest in helping us. I asked him if he needed my cell phone. He said no, but then asked to hear the messages again. I played them for him and he laughed. He said that he could barely understand the message because of all the yelling, and that the guy must be drunk. I said that the yelling sounded pretty threatening to me. He agreed and said that this guy was probably just mad that I didn't go home with him instead of his friend. He then said that these guys must have felt like they hit the jackpot when they were able to convince a pretty, blond, well-educated girl like me to sleep with them. I pointed out that the messages clearly show that this guy knew I had a boyfriend. He said that none of that mattered. It was around this point that the cop began telling us that he had done all of the investigating that he was going to do, and that he didn't see this case going anywhere. He said that he couldn't close the case until the toxicology reports came back, but that he was fairly certain they would be negative, since I waited so long. He said that pretty much my only hope was that the toxicology showed that I was drunk at the time, and that even then, I really didn't have much of a case. Tyler began asking about the bizarre marks, cuts and bruises on my body, and further investigation of drug presence at the bars I had been to. The cop had little to say and reiterated that the case was essentially closed. Tyler and I left. Ty tried to put his arm around me on the way out to the car, but I shrugged it off. I didn't want to be touched at all. I felt disgusting.
At that moment I got angry. Up until that point I had been mainly confused and a little sad. I had no one to be angry at. I didn't know what happened. The only memory I had of those guys was of having a nice conversation. I didn't know who drugged me, or where. I didn't even have any physical proof that I had been drugged. I just knew that I had been. It's hard to be mad at someone you can barely remember. Don't get me wrong, I became very angry with these guys later. At that time though, I was mad at the cop. Words can't quite convey how rude, disinterested, heartless and cold he was. He treated me like I was a naive, blond girl. He let me know that he believed someone else's word over mine. He made me feel like a slut. He made it pretty obvious that he cared more about furthering his career than helping me. When it became clear that this would not result in an easily won court case for him, he stopped investigating, and bowed out. I hate him.
Thursday
Monday
Creature Comforts (read fourth)
After making this blog-thing somewhat public, the response I got was overwhelming. The messages I received related to it ranged from kind words, to people who confided that they had been through a similar situation. If you wrote to me and I didn't write back- don't feel bad. I didn't reply to anyone. It's not that I don't want to talk about this, because I do. I just prefer discussing this type of thing in person (it really makes sense that I'm writing a weblog then, huh?). That and I received way more feedback than I anticipated and didn't really know where to start with all of it. Anyway, thanks for reading. Knowing that people give a shit about this subject matter, or just give a shit about me in general, is a pretty great feeling.
I guess it probably looked like things could only improve from the point they were at in my last entry. No way. Things kind of got worse. I really hate writing about this on a day-by-day basis but that's just kind of the way the story unfolded. Here's what happened the next day:
I had class at 9:00am. I checked my standard internet stuff and saw a very unwanted friend request from the blond guy on my myspace page. I avoided telling Tyler right away because I didn't want him to have a visual to go with what I'm sure was already a terrible mental image. That and I was already afraid of him hunting this guy down. Tyler left for home when I left for campus. I was even more sore this day than the day before. My bruises were much uglier too. Luckily almost all of them were covered by clothing. What was really difficult was walking up and down stairs. It felt like I had been nailed by a bowling ball right between the legs. Tyler helped me down the stairs of my apartment, but I knew I would need to take the elevator at school which would be out of character for me, and the last thing I wanted to do was draw attention to myself.
On my way into the building on campus, I received a phone call from a number I didn't recognize. It was the state trooper who had been assigned to my case. I immediately got very nervous and ducked into the nearest empty room. He told me that he had received my case and had read over my report. He asked a lot of questions that I answered the best I could. He asked for details that I obviously wouldn't remember. I explained to him that I had to go to class and he told me that he was going to go investigate. I was instructed to keep my phone on because he had planned to call back shortly. I agreed, hung up and headed toward the elevator.
On my way there I bumped into my friend Tea. Tea and I are very close and in the same graduate program. I had already thought to myself, "If I'm going to tell anyone at school about this, it's Tea." I knew I had to talk to someone so that I would have support if I freaked out later in class. Tea told me that I looked out of it and asked what was up. I asked her if she minded if I vented to her about something really horrible. So on our 3 flight elevator ride, I spilled my guts as quickly as possible. She gave me lots of hugs and insisted on helping me carry my stuff (which was unnecessary but really nice of her).
I couldn't pay attention at all in class. This was made worse by a text from the blond guy. It read "are you still alive? i haven't heard back from you in a while." My heart raced and I excused myself from class. As I was sitting in the hallway frantically calling Tyler (who wasn't answering because he was still driving), the trooper called back. He asked me what the voicemails from the guy who fucked me n the bathroom said. I explained that he kept yelling that I better call him back or else. Then he threatened to find my boyfriend and tell him "what kind of girl I was." Then he yelled that I needed to call him back again. Nice and threatening. The trooper asked me to forward him the voicemails, which I did after we hung up. He then asked if I had been contacted by either of these guys since. I explained that the blond guy had asked me to be his friend and had texted me. The trooper then devised a plan that seemed a little odd at the time and in hindsight seems totally inappropriate.
The trooper asked me if I had replied to the blond guy at all. I said no. He then asked if the guy still had my bra. I said yes. He told me to text the blond guy back and to be very nice to him. He asked me to seem interested in him, enough so that I could arrange a meeting with him in the near future. The point of this was so that the trooper could meet up with him if all of his other investigative efforts failed. I expressed that I was a little uncomfortable doing this, and he hinted at the fact that if I wanted to find out what happened, then I would need to be cooperative. He was very nice about all of this, and really made me feel like I was a priority. I agreed and thanked him for all of his help. I then texted the blonde guy and told him that I was not dead. He invited me to an art exhibit at a local restaurant. I explained that I was out of town for the week and he said maybe this weekend. I couldn't bear to write more, and felt that that was sufficient.
I was visibly shaken and couldn't go back to class. I sat in the hall and waited for everyone to move out of the room. Tea brought my things out to me and and did everything that she could to ensure that I would be alright. I thanked her again for all that she had helped me with. I then headed upstairs to try and talk to the chair of our department. She was a former teacher of mine, a counselor, and someone that I consider an extremely unbiased and supportive friend. I explained to her what had happened and she did more for me than I ever could have imagined. She contacted all of my teachers and told them that I may need to be in and out of class for the next 2 weeks. She also set me up with a counseling agency locally (one that is actually owned by another teacher in our program), and she gave up her entire afternoon to help me. I am so grateful to have had her help. If I were the type of person to use the word "blessed" then I would probably use that to describe how I felt.
After leaving her office I drove to my friend Rick's house. Rick is by far my best friend in the the town where I go to school, and one of the greatest people I have ever met. I was dreading telling her about what happened because I knew it would hit her really hard. But I just needed her to know and I just need here there. So we sat on her bed and I went through all of the nitty gritty details. Rick cried harder that I ever imagined she would. I couldn't cry, but still felt just as upset. She hugged me and we sat there on her bed for a really long time. This made things feel more real. It didn't feel good, but it felt better. Sad was better than anxious, and it felt good to feel sad with someone else. I don't say it enough, but I have some really amazing friends.
I guess it probably looked like things could only improve from the point they were at in my last entry. No way. Things kind of got worse. I really hate writing about this on a day-by-day basis but that's just kind of the way the story unfolded. Here's what happened the next day:
I had class at 9:00am. I checked my standard internet stuff and saw a very unwanted friend request from the blond guy on my myspace page. I avoided telling Tyler right away because I didn't want him to have a visual to go with what I'm sure was already a terrible mental image. That and I was already afraid of him hunting this guy down. Tyler left for home when I left for campus. I was even more sore this day than the day before. My bruises were much uglier too. Luckily almost all of them were covered by clothing. What was really difficult was walking up and down stairs. It felt like I had been nailed by a bowling ball right between the legs. Tyler helped me down the stairs of my apartment, but I knew I would need to take the elevator at school which would be out of character for me, and the last thing I wanted to do was draw attention to myself.
On my way into the building on campus, I received a phone call from a number I didn't recognize. It was the state trooper who had been assigned to my case. I immediately got very nervous and ducked into the nearest empty room. He told me that he had received my case and had read over my report. He asked a lot of questions that I answered the best I could. He asked for details that I obviously wouldn't remember. I explained to him that I had to go to class and he told me that he was going to go investigate. I was instructed to keep my phone on because he had planned to call back shortly. I agreed, hung up and headed toward the elevator.
On my way there I bumped into my friend Tea. Tea and I are very close and in the same graduate program. I had already thought to myself, "If I'm going to tell anyone at school about this, it's Tea." I knew I had to talk to someone so that I would have support if I freaked out later in class. Tea told me that I looked out of it and asked what was up. I asked her if she minded if I vented to her about something really horrible. So on our 3 flight elevator ride, I spilled my guts as quickly as possible. She gave me lots of hugs and insisted on helping me carry my stuff (which was unnecessary but really nice of her).
I couldn't pay attention at all in class. This was made worse by a text from the blond guy. It read "are you still alive? i haven't heard back from you in a while." My heart raced and I excused myself from class. As I was sitting in the hallway frantically calling Tyler (who wasn't answering because he was still driving), the trooper called back. He asked me what the voicemails from the guy who fucked me n the bathroom said. I explained that he kept yelling that I better call him back or else. Then he threatened to find my boyfriend and tell him "what kind of girl I was." Then he yelled that I needed to call him back again. Nice and threatening. The trooper asked me to forward him the voicemails, which I did after we hung up. He then asked if I had been contacted by either of these guys since. I explained that the blond guy had asked me to be his friend and had texted me. The trooper then devised a plan that seemed a little odd at the time and in hindsight seems totally inappropriate.
The trooper asked me if I had replied to the blond guy at all. I said no. He then asked if the guy still had my bra. I said yes. He told me to text the blond guy back and to be very nice to him. He asked me to seem interested in him, enough so that I could arrange a meeting with him in the near future. The point of this was so that the trooper could meet up with him if all of his other investigative efforts failed. I expressed that I was a little uncomfortable doing this, and he hinted at the fact that if I wanted to find out what happened, then I would need to be cooperative. He was very nice about all of this, and really made me feel like I was a priority. I agreed and thanked him for all of his help. I then texted the blonde guy and told him that I was not dead. He invited me to an art exhibit at a local restaurant. I explained that I was out of town for the week and he said maybe this weekend. I couldn't bear to write more, and felt that that was sufficient.
I was visibly shaken and couldn't go back to class. I sat in the hall and waited for everyone to move out of the room. Tea brought my things out to me and and did everything that she could to ensure that I would be alright. I thanked her again for all that she had helped me with. I then headed upstairs to try and talk to the chair of our department. She was a former teacher of mine, a counselor, and someone that I consider an extremely unbiased and supportive friend. I explained to her what had happened and she did more for me than I ever could have imagined. She contacted all of my teachers and told them that I may need to be in and out of class for the next 2 weeks. She also set me up with a counseling agency locally (one that is actually owned by another teacher in our program), and she gave up her entire afternoon to help me. I am so grateful to have had her help. If I were the type of person to use the word "blessed" then I would probably use that to describe how I felt.
After leaving her office I drove to my friend Rick's house. Rick is by far my best friend in the the town where I go to school, and one of the greatest people I have ever met. I was dreading telling her about what happened because I knew it would hit her really hard. But I just needed her to know and I just need here there. So we sat on her bed and I went through all of the nitty gritty details. Rick cried harder that I ever imagined she would. I couldn't cry, but still felt just as upset. She hugged me and we sat there on her bed for a really long time. This made things feel more real. It didn't feel good, but it felt better. Sad was better than anxious, and it felt good to feel sad with someone else. I don't say it enough, but I have some really amazing friends.
Thursday
Aftermath (read me third)
After what seemed like the longest day of my life, came the actual longest day of my life. The following day was a Monday and I had work at 9am. My alarm was set for 7:30 but I was woken up at 7am by Ty. In reality though, I had barely slept and was already half awake. I had wanted to get up and go to the bathroom about an hour prior, but I was so sore that I could barely get up, so I just laid there. I had been thinking a lot while slipping in and out of consciousness, which always make me anxious.
Tyler had just gotten out of work. He told me that he was coming up to see me and that we were going to go to the hospital. Honestly, at this point I knew that I had to go. I had been fucked by two strangers and had no memory of it, I was covered in cuts and bruises, I had a couple of threatening voicemails from one of the fuckers, and the last thing I could remember was one of the guys buying me a drink from their buddy, the bartender. In addition I had no clue about the protection level of the sex, so inoculations were in order. Despite all of this, I refused to go to the hospital. I didn't want to miss work, and I didn't want to make a big deal about something that I didn't remember and felt really embarrassed about. Tyler threatened to come drag me out of work if I didn't call in, so I really had no choice. I called my secretary and explained that I had a family emergency and would not be in work that day.
Tyler arrived and it took me nearly five minutes to get up and unlock the door for him. My muscles ached and more bruises had surfaced. Some on my knees and others on my hips. The ones I had noticed the night before had become more pronounced. Tyler helped me back on to the couch and we began figuring where to go and what to do. The hospital website was confusing, and we didn't even know exactly what we were looking for. We decided to call one of the helplines that my friend from college had given me the day before. We described the situation and they informed us of the type of testing we needed to have done, where to go in the hospital to get it, what ID and paperwork we would need, and they arranged for an advocate to come meet us, just in case we needed help.
We arrived at the hospital emergency room about an hour later, and it was packed, since there had been a snowstorm earlier that morning. The advocate, "Marie" met us in the waiting room. She had brought a second advocate to wait with Ty, in case he had any questions, since we would likely be gone for testing for quite a while. Marie explained to the receptionist that we were there for a drug facilitated rape screening. I was given a mountain of paperwork and asked to take a seat. Marie gave me a pamphlet on drug facilitated rape and I scanned it over. There was a 20 point checklist on the back listing signs that you may have been drugged and raped. I met ever single criterion. "Is there an 8-12 hour period of time missing from your memory?" "Were you given a drink by a member of the opposite sex?" "Is there a 5 minute window of events that are 'foggy' before you blacked out?" "Did you wake up in an unknown location and not know how you got there?" "Are there mysterious bruises on your body that you don't know the cause of?" "Do you feel like you had sex but do not remember the act?" The questions went on like this. For the first time in two days, I found myself actually holding back tears. As I read on, I felt as though someone took notes on what had happened to me, and then published a pamphlet about it. There was also a list of possible drugs, what they do, and how long they stay in your system. Some stay in your system for up to 72 hours, but these were rare. Most were gone in as few as eight hours, but mainly 12-24 hours. It had been close to 30 hours at this point, and I had peed and showered. The odds of something showing up in my bloodstream, even if it was there, was not likely.
Despite that discouraging information, I knew that I needed to take care of my health first. I was already a mess mentally from all of this, so if there was anything I could do to protect myself physically, I knew that I had to go through with it. I was called into a tiny room and interviewed by the nurse who was going to be performing the majority of my exam. Marie was allowed in with me but Ty was not. I gave my statement, and she agreed that it sounded exactly like I was raped and that it was good that I came in. We were sent back to the waiting room with Ty for about 45 more minutes before being called in to take the test.
Marie again was allowed in with me, which was surprisingly comforting. I was in shock a bit and often said okay to whatever the nurse told me, without actually hearing a word she said. Marie stopped each step of the way and told me exactly what was going on before it happened. I was asked if I wanted to file a police report. I said no, that I wanted to have my test run and bloodwork done first, before I made any decisions. Marie explained to me that the police were the only ones that would run a toxicology report to see if there were any drugs in my system. The hospital did not do that. So, if I wanted to know what was in me, I had to file a report first. I was hesitant to do so, because I really wanted the entire thing to be over with, but I needed to know what was done to me, so I agreed. Marie made sure that the state troopers were called, because they took faster action and were able to work more easily between counties. The call was made, and the trooper was set to be there in a few hours.
For those of you who have never gone through a rape screening, it is horrible. I will now detail just some of the terrible things they put you through. You pee in a cup, which is easy enough. But, they need a sample to test for STDs, one to test for any blood or seamen traces, and then one for the cops to test for drugs. It's a lot of pee. They look you over, up and down, and mark on a sheet every single cut bruise or scrape you might have. There is a drawing of a female body that they make all of the marks on. My had little markings all over it. Then they get to the more painful stuff. They take scrapings from underneath all of your nails. I bite my nails, so they are short. This was not too bad but really uncomfortable. They also need hair samples from various parts of your body. I think it was 25 hairs from each spot. These all had to be pulled out from the root, and the nurse needed to use rubber gloves while doing this. I anticipated this hurting more than it did. When it came time to pull out the 25 little pubic hairs, however, that hurt just as much as I thought it would. Then skin cells were scraped from my mouth to run HIV tests. I am running through these all very quickly, but this whole process probably took close to 3 hours, and I was essentially naked on a table the entire time.
Next the state trooper came in. I gave him my story and he informed me that he could take an initial report but that I would need to file an official report and give my statement at the trooper barracks the next town over. He did put my mind at ease a bit by explaining the purpose of filing a report. He made a point to let me know that I was merely making a statement that something happened. It was okay that I didn't know what exactly happened, or who was involved, or the intent. I was just letting the appropriate authority figures know that something fishy went down and that it involved me.
After he left cam the part of this entire experience that was the worst for me. I hate giving blood. I can't listen to people talk about giving blood without turning white. If I see people giving blood I get dizzy and nauseous. I have even been banned from giving blood because I throw up and pass out so much. But I knew that blood giving would be a part of this experience, so at least I was prepared. I was not prepared for how much, though. Eight viles. Not like the little ones that the doctor checks your cholesterol with at physicals. Eight giant fucking test tubes full of my blood. So Marie grabbed my left hand and I made a fist with my right. I laid down and let them take it. I wish I could say it went quickly, but it didn't. It took a really long time and they took it all at once. I didn't black out or throw up, but I did get tunnel vision and breathe really heavy. They gave me a graham cracker and apple juice after which I inhaled, realizing that it was the first food I had had all day and it was nearly 5pm.
Ty came in for a bit after that. It was good to see him, especially since I had been in that tiny room for close to 7 hours. The Dr. who would be giving my internal screening had been held up most of the day and would still be a while longer. Ty and Marie and I sat and talked about our options for going to the barracks. She said that she wanted to come with us because the legal aspects of this stuff could get really confusing. We took her up on this since we were already confused. I offered Ty and Marie my other crackers, realizing that they hadn't eaten in hours either, but they both insisted that I have them. After a while, the Dr. came and Ty left.
Marie had warned me that the Dr. looked a bit like an ape, but I thought she was just trying to raise my spirits. I think I may have actually gasped when he walked in. The man was a monkey. He was very furry and covered in wily, ill maintained black hair. He was nice, but abrupt. It was clear that he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.
He asked me to give him the short version of what happened. I did. He asked if I felt like I had been raped anally. I said that I didn't think so, but wasn't sure. He explained that if I wasn't sure then he had to check. This was invasive, but not too bad. It involved a lubed finger and a bunch of Q-tip swabs. Next he had to do the vaginal scan. Marie warned me that most girls find this really painful. The process was similar to getting a pap smear, or so I was told. I had had a bunch of those and they never bugged me too much. The thing I hadn't really thought about was that I had never gotten a pap the day after being violently fucked by two men. Also, in order to see any signs of forced entry, they really need to crank the little alligator-looking clamp thing open pretty wide. I screamed. It felt like I was being ripped open. I imagine this to be the closest sensation to child birth that I will ever experience. Adding to the pain, he poked around (like with his finger) for nearly five minutes before closing the clamp and relieving me of my discomfort.
The only things left to do at this point were the preventative shots for HIV and other STDs. Shots fall just below giving blood on my "things I really hate" list. I think I got a bunch, but the only one I really remember was the HIV one. I had to take some high intensity pills in advance to make sure that my body was receptive to it and then I had to lay on my side while a really thick needle was slipped into my butt cheek. It hurt. It hurt a lot. It hurt to sit on it afterward and the muscle was sore for a couple of days. I was also given round one of maybe 4 different antibiotics and a plan B pill. This was about 12 pills in total, all of which would likely make me nauseous. I was finally allowed to get dressed and leave at this point. I rounded up Ty, and we were off to the trooper barracks.
I won't bore anyone with the details of filling out a police report. I basically had to put in writing everything that I have mentioned in my two previous posts. I did meet an angry older trooper though, who I wish could have stayed with my case. He talked about wanting to hunt down anyone who would take advantage of a girl in this way, and how he was close enough to retiring that this wouldn't be a publicity thing for him, just something that he wanted to see justice carried out on. It made me feel like I didn't sound stupid. Like someone who has seen things like this before also thinks that I was taken advantage of. It also made me feel a little safer, like I was in good hands. They took pictures of my bruises and asked Ty to give a separate statement of what he knew happened. They told me that my case would have to be transferred, along with my blood, to the county in which this happened. I was to be contacted in a day or two by the trooper that would actually be in charge of my case, and that he would take it from there. I felt relieved. I felt like I had done the right thing. I felt slightly less embarrassed. I was hungry.
It was a little after 9pm when we left, and it was snowing hard. We offered to take Marie out to dinner, but she gratefully declined. We thanked her for all that she had done for us, and for giving up her entire day just to help us. She was amazing. I could not have gotten through that day without her. I think Ty feels the same way. So we parted ways and Ty and I headed to the nearest Olive Garden and ate a small mountain of salad and bread sticks. We went to fill my prescriptions (like 20 pills a day for close to a week), and we headed back to my apartment. Ty had notified his work that morning that he would not be in that night. We laid on the couch together and fell asleep almost instantly. This was the longest day of my life.
Tyler had just gotten out of work. He told me that he was coming up to see me and that we were going to go to the hospital. Honestly, at this point I knew that I had to go. I had been fucked by two strangers and had no memory of it, I was covered in cuts and bruises, I had a couple of threatening voicemails from one of the fuckers, and the last thing I could remember was one of the guys buying me a drink from their buddy, the bartender. In addition I had no clue about the protection level of the sex, so inoculations were in order. Despite all of this, I refused to go to the hospital. I didn't want to miss work, and I didn't want to make a big deal about something that I didn't remember and felt really embarrassed about. Tyler threatened to come drag me out of work if I didn't call in, so I really had no choice. I called my secretary and explained that I had a family emergency and would not be in work that day.
Tyler arrived and it took me nearly five minutes to get up and unlock the door for him. My muscles ached and more bruises had surfaced. Some on my knees and others on my hips. The ones I had noticed the night before had become more pronounced. Tyler helped me back on to the couch and we began figuring where to go and what to do. The hospital website was confusing, and we didn't even know exactly what we were looking for. We decided to call one of the helplines that my friend from college had given me the day before. We described the situation and they informed us of the type of testing we needed to have done, where to go in the hospital to get it, what ID and paperwork we would need, and they arranged for an advocate to come meet us, just in case we needed help.
We arrived at the hospital emergency room about an hour later, and it was packed, since there had been a snowstorm earlier that morning. The advocate, "Marie" met us in the waiting room. She had brought a second advocate to wait with Ty, in case he had any questions, since we would likely be gone for testing for quite a while. Marie explained to the receptionist that we were there for a drug facilitated rape screening. I was given a mountain of paperwork and asked to take a seat. Marie gave me a pamphlet on drug facilitated rape and I scanned it over. There was a 20 point checklist on the back listing signs that you may have been drugged and raped. I met ever single criterion. "Is there an 8-12 hour period of time missing from your memory?" "Were you given a drink by a member of the opposite sex?" "Is there a 5 minute window of events that are 'foggy' before you blacked out?" "Did you wake up in an unknown location and not know how you got there?" "Are there mysterious bruises on your body that you don't know the cause of?" "Do you feel like you had sex but do not remember the act?" The questions went on like this. For the first time in two days, I found myself actually holding back tears. As I read on, I felt as though someone took notes on what had happened to me, and then published a pamphlet about it. There was also a list of possible drugs, what they do, and how long they stay in your system. Some stay in your system for up to 72 hours, but these were rare. Most were gone in as few as eight hours, but mainly 12-24 hours. It had been close to 30 hours at this point, and I had peed and showered. The odds of something showing up in my bloodstream, even if it was there, was not likely.
Despite that discouraging information, I knew that I needed to take care of my health first. I was already a mess mentally from all of this, so if there was anything I could do to protect myself physically, I knew that I had to go through with it. I was called into a tiny room and interviewed by the nurse who was going to be performing the majority of my exam. Marie was allowed in with me but Ty was not. I gave my statement, and she agreed that it sounded exactly like I was raped and that it was good that I came in. We were sent back to the waiting room with Ty for about 45 more minutes before being called in to take the test.
Marie again was allowed in with me, which was surprisingly comforting. I was in shock a bit and often said okay to whatever the nurse told me, without actually hearing a word she said. Marie stopped each step of the way and told me exactly what was going on before it happened. I was asked if I wanted to file a police report. I said no, that I wanted to have my test run and bloodwork done first, before I made any decisions. Marie explained to me that the police were the only ones that would run a toxicology report to see if there were any drugs in my system. The hospital did not do that. So, if I wanted to know what was in me, I had to file a report first. I was hesitant to do so, because I really wanted the entire thing to be over with, but I needed to know what was done to me, so I agreed. Marie made sure that the state troopers were called, because they took faster action and were able to work more easily between counties. The call was made, and the trooper was set to be there in a few hours.
For those of you who have never gone through a rape screening, it is horrible. I will now detail just some of the terrible things they put you through. You pee in a cup, which is easy enough. But, they need a sample to test for STDs, one to test for any blood or seamen traces, and then one for the cops to test for drugs. It's a lot of pee. They look you over, up and down, and mark on a sheet every single cut bruise or scrape you might have. There is a drawing of a female body that they make all of the marks on. My had little markings all over it. Then they get to the more painful stuff. They take scrapings from underneath all of your nails. I bite my nails, so they are short. This was not too bad but really uncomfortable. They also need hair samples from various parts of your body. I think it was 25 hairs from each spot. These all had to be pulled out from the root, and the nurse needed to use rubber gloves while doing this. I anticipated this hurting more than it did. When it came time to pull out the 25 little pubic hairs, however, that hurt just as much as I thought it would. Then skin cells were scraped from my mouth to run HIV tests. I am running through these all very quickly, but this whole process probably took close to 3 hours, and I was essentially naked on a table the entire time.
Next the state trooper came in. I gave him my story and he informed me that he could take an initial report but that I would need to file an official report and give my statement at the trooper barracks the next town over. He did put my mind at ease a bit by explaining the purpose of filing a report. He made a point to let me know that I was merely making a statement that something happened. It was okay that I didn't know what exactly happened, or who was involved, or the intent. I was just letting the appropriate authority figures know that something fishy went down and that it involved me.
After he left cam the part of this entire experience that was the worst for me. I hate giving blood. I can't listen to people talk about giving blood without turning white. If I see people giving blood I get dizzy and nauseous. I have even been banned from giving blood because I throw up and pass out so much. But I knew that blood giving would be a part of this experience, so at least I was prepared. I was not prepared for how much, though. Eight viles. Not like the little ones that the doctor checks your cholesterol with at physicals. Eight giant fucking test tubes full of my blood. So Marie grabbed my left hand and I made a fist with my right. I laid down and let them take it. I wish I could say it went quickly, but it didn't. It took a really long time and they took it all at once. I didn't black out or throw up, but I did get tunnel vision and breathe really heavy. They gave me a graham cracker and apple juice after which I inhaled, realizing that it was the first food I had had all day and it was nearly 5pm.
Ty came in for a bit after that. It was good to see him, especially since I had been in that tiny room for close to 7 hours. The Dr. who would be giving my internal screening had been held up most of the day and would still be a while longer. Ty and Marie and I sat and talked about our options for going to the barracks. She said that she wanted to come with us because the legal aspects of this stuff could get really confusing. We took her up on this since we were already confused. I offered Ty and Marie my other crackers, realizing that they hadn't eaten in hours either, but they both insisted that I have them. After a while, the Dr. came and Ty left.
Marie had warned me that the Dr. looked a bit like an ape, but I thought she was just trying to raise my spirits. I think I may have actually gasped when he walked in. The man was a monkey. He was very furry and covered in wily, ill maintained black hair. He was nice, but abrupt. It was clear that he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.
He asked me to give him the short version of what happened. I did. He asked if I felt like I had been raped anally. I said that I didn't think so, but wasn't sure. He explained that if I wasn't sure then he had to check. This was invasive, but not too bad. It involved a lubed finger and a bunch of Q-tip swabs. Next he had to do the vaginal scan. Marie warned me that most girls find this really painful. The process was similar to getting a pap smear, or so I was told. I had had a bunch of those and they never bugged me too much. The thing I hadn't really thought about was that I had never gotten a pap the day after being violently fucked by two men. Also, in order to see any signs of forced entry, they really need to crank the little alligator-looking clamp thing open pretty wide. I screamed. It felt like I was being ripped open. I imagine this to be the closest sensation to child birth that I will ever experience. Adding to the pain, he poked around (like with his finger) for nearly five minutes before closing the clamp and relieving me of my discomfort.
The only things left to do at this point were the preventative shots for HIV and other STDs. Shots fall just below giving blood on my "things I really hate" list. I think I got a bunch, but the only one I really remember was the HIV one. I had to take some high intensity pills in advance to make sure that my body was receptive to it and then I had to lay on my side while a really thick needle was slipped into my butt cheek. It hurt. It hurt a lot. It hurt to sit on it afterward and the muscle was sore for a couple of days. I was also given round one of maybe 4 different antibiotics and a plan B pill. This was about 12 pills in total, all of which would likely make me nauseous. I was finally allowed to get dressed and leave at this point. I rounded up Ty, and we were off to the trooper barracks.
I won't bore anyone with the details of filling out a police report. I basically had to put in writing everything that I have mentioned in my two previous posts. I did meet an angry older trooper though, who I wish could have stayed with my case. He talked about wanting to hunt down anyone who would take advantage of a girl in this way, and how he was close enough to retiring that this wouldn't be a publicity thing for him, just something that he wanted to see justice carried out on. It made me feel like I didn't sound stupid. Like someone who has seen things like this before also thinks that I was taken advantage of. It also made me feel a little safer, like I was in good hands. They took pictures of my bruises and asked Ty to give a separate statement of what he knew happened. They told me that my case would have to be transferred, along with my blood, to the county in which this happened. I was to be contacted in a day or two by the trooper that would actually be in charge of my case, and that he would take it from there. I felt relieved. I felt like I had done the right thing. I felt slightly less embarrassed. I was hungry.
It was a little after 9pm when we left, and it was snowing hard. We offered to take Marie out to dinner, but she gratefully declined. We thanked her for all that she had done for us, and for giving up her entire day just to help us. She was amazing. I could not have gotten through that day without her. I think Ty feels the same way. So we parted ways and Ty and I headed to the nearest Olive Garden and ate a small mountain of salad and bread sticks. We went to fill my prescriptions (like 20 pills a day for close to a week), and we headed back to my apartment. Ty had notified his work that morning that he would not be in that night. We laid on the couch together and fell asleep almost instantly. This was the longest day of my life.
Round Two (read me next)
For something that I have been afraid to do for months, that last post was surprisingly easy to write. Probably because I know that no one really reads this. Also, there was nothing in that last one I haven't hashed over and had to explain/write out about a million times. This one, however, has been rough. Hard to start and harder to put into words.
So after a fairly dull, low key night out, my next morning was pretty monumental. I woke up to an alarm clock. I reached around, feeling for it. I finally found it but it wasn't the alarm clock I was used to, so I didn't know how to turn it off. I hit it a few times and finally covered it with a t-shirt (or a towel or something) that I found on the floor. This dulled the noise enough, but at this point I was awake.
I was light headed, but not hung-over feeling. Still, I was dizzy enough to feel all kinds of fucked up. I looked around the room and realized that I didn't know where I was. I was in a bed on the floor and I was naked. I looked over to see whose bed I was in and my stomach sank the moment I saw the mess of knotted blond man hair on the pillow next to me. I think I started yelling. I know that I was making enough of a scene to wake the blond guy up. I kept saying over and over "I need to get home to my boyfriend. How could I not have gone home?" I rushed around the room collecting my clothing. I couldn't find my bra so I began yelling about that. After a few minutes of panicked searching, I threw on my shirt and left without it.
I found my way to the front door of the house I was in and left as quickly as possible. I expected to be in the middle of town, near the dive bar, a block from home. I looked around and had no idea where I was. The road I was on looked familiar to me, but I couldn't place exactly where I was. There was a traffic light at the nearest visible intersection so I decided to walk towards it. I shuffled frantically through my purse in search of my phone. I wanted to call Ty, but didn't even know what I would say to him. I was confused and overwhelmed with guilt. I had let myself loose control to the point of blacking out and unintentionally fucked up everything Ty and I had worked so hard to rebuild. What was worse was that I did it for nothing. Not only did my actions of the night before benefit no one, I couldn't even remember them. I was sore in all the wrong places, so I was aware that I had slept with someone, but not one gory detail of the act stuck in my head.
As I got to the traffic light I realized where I was. I was more than a mile away from home, and from the last point I remembered being at the night before. My head was swimming, scrambling to recall any trace of how I had gotten there. I called Em, hoping for answers but only got her voicemail. I called Bea next. No response there either. I called a handful of other people before my college roommate, and one of my closest friends, finally returned my call. I got about two words in before red flags went off and she immediately became concerned. She thought something didn't seem right and that I had obviously been taken advantage of. Not knowing what had happened, I didn't really take what she had said seriously. I wrote this off as her being a good, supportive friend and just saying what would be the option that would make me look best. Not long into the conversation, Bea chimed in. She had stayed at a friend's house in town and offered to come pick me up.
When Bea and her friend reached me, I had made it to Main st., was without a jacket (it was warm the night before) or a bra, and it was starting to snow. I was freezing and looked like some pathetic, abandoned orphan. I got in the car and tried to explain what I could. They had drank a considerable amount more than I had and barely even recalled my leaving the night before. I was embarrassed and told them that I didn't know if I had slept with the guy or not, even though I was fairly certain that I had. They both said, "This happens." "Don't worry about it. We all have nights like this." I don't. Sitting in the back of the car, I noticed that my elbow was throbbing. It was dirty and scraped raw. The top of my right foot was in a similar state, and there were bits of leaves, twigs, and rocks wedged inside my shoes. I could smell old saliva and cigarettes and was ashamed to realize that this smell was coming from my face and neck.
I rode with Bea to her friend's house where we had breakfast and watched TV for a few hours. Shortly after eating, I received a text message from a number I didn't recognize. It read "i found your bra." Clearly this was from the blond guy. I replied "okay." Over the next hour, the following conversation occurred via text (with improved spelling and punctuation to make things more readable):
Blond Guy: did i fall or something last night?
Me: i have no idea. i don't remember anything from last night
Blond Guy: haha gotta love nights like those
Blond Guy: did (insert other guy's name) leave you an angry message too
Me: no. i don't think so
Blond Guy: oh he left me a few. he sounded really pissed
Me: why?
Blond Guy: because of what happened in the bathroom of the dive
Me: what happened in the bathroom?
Blond Guy: you guys had sex...
Me: no we didn't
Blond Guy: yeah you did. but it's all cool as long as that's not something you do all the time
Me: what's not something I do all the time?
Blond Guy: sleep with 2 guys in one night
I nervously checked my voicemail and found two angry, threatening messages from the guy who apparently fucked me in the bathroom. I didn't really listen to them for content, the fact that they existed was enough for me at that point. I wanted to cry but I couldn't. I couldn't focus enough to be upset enough to cry. I called my college friend back. Before I could even tell her the second part of my lost night, she told me that she had a phone number for me. It was for a rape hotline. Even though I thought she was overreacting by taking that idea so seriously, I have to admit it did cross my mind. I explained what I had learned through my texting session and she became insistent that I at least call and talk to someone. I felt uncomfortable and got off the phone with her as quickly as possible.
Then Ty called. He sounded angry. He asked where I had been. I said that I had stayed with friends of Bea's. He asked when I would be home. I said soon. So, I nervously hitched a ride back to Ty's.
I walked in the door of Ty's apartment and his roommate, and our mutual best friend, bolted out the door as quickly as possible, anticipating the intense discussion that was about to ensue. Ty was sitting on the couch. I sat down on the love seat next to him. He asked what happened the night before and I said I didn't know. He asked me where I spent the night. I said I didn't know. I can only assume that I must have looked like something horrible happened to me. Ty informed me later that I never took my coat off the entire time I was at his apartment, and that I kept my hands buried deep in the pockets of the coat. I don't remember this detail. He asked me if I fucked someone. I said I thought so, and that it might have been more than one person. Ty left the room and punched a hole in his wall. He came back out and asked me a million questions. I told him what I knew but that wasn't much. I just remember repeating "I don't know" for almost every answer. He seemed upset, but never once mad. Not mad at me anyway. I started to cry a little. I apologized. I said that I should leave. He explained that he wanted me to do what I thought I had to do, but that I didn't have to leave. I changed my pants (with coat still on), packed up my things, packed up my bunny, and packed my car. He walked me out to my car and said that he would call me. I asked if things were over between us, he stated that he didn't know what things were. He kissed me and I left.
My drive back home was the type were every 30 miles or so you stop and realize that you don't remember the last chunk of your trip. Where you don't even remember if you were paying attention to the road or not and it's scary because you feel like you could have caused a million accidents, but you didn't. When I got of the thruway I had to pull over. I was feeling dizzy again. It almost felt like I wasn't getting enough oxygen to my brain, panic attack style. I sat for a moment, taking deep breaths. It didn't really help. I received a phone call from a friend who I had been trying to reach most of the morning. He is essentially the male version of me so I was counting on him to help me hash over the previous 24 hours. He isn't ever really shaken up by anything. He didn't seem shocked by these events, but was able to recognize that something wasn't right. I was using his reaction as a gauge of how freaked out I should be. I remained moderately spooked.
After I got home I unpacked the bunny and wanted to get cleaned up. I was too exhausted to stand for an entire shower so I took a bath. I was right in the middle of washing my hair when the phone rang. I don't know why, but I decided to answer it, soap on hands and all. It was Ty. He asked what I was doing and I told him that I was right in the middle of shampooing my hair. Tyler told me that the moment I left he began trying to figure out what had happened. He had looked into drug facilitated sexual assault and that I was pretty much the poster child for being date raped. Even more, one of the signs for being raped was repeatedly washing your hair (although I think that was just a coincidence). I really couldn't agree or disagree with him.
I got out of the tub and started prepping for bed. It was at this point that I noticed the bruises. The insides of my thighs were sore, and looked like they were starting to turn black and blue. I had a series of small, round bruises on one shoulder that resembled fingerprints. The other shoulder had one large bruise starting to form across the top and hurt more and more as the day went on. The top of my head was a little swollen and achy. I also remembered that I had a strange pen mark that went across my hip, below where my underwear would be. I wanted to ignore all of these things. I was exhausted and incapable of concentrating on any one thing enough for it to make sense. So, I pulled Ixorstix's cage close to the couch, turned on the TV and went to sleep.
So after a fairly dull, low key night out, my next morning was pretty monumental. I woke up to an alarm clock. I reached around, feeling for it. I finally found it but it wasn't the alarm clock I was used to, so I didn't know how to turn it off. I hit it a few times and finally covered it with a t-shirt (or a towel or something) that I found on the floor. This dulled the noise enough, but at this point I was awake.
I was light headed, but not hung-over feeling. Still, I was dizzy enough to feel all kinds of fucked up. I looked around the room and realized that I didn't know where I was. I was in a bed on the floor and I was naked. I looked over to see whose bed I was in and my stomach sank the moment I saw the mess of knotted blond man hair on the pillow next to me. I think I started yelling. I know that I was making enough of a scene to wake the blond guy up. I kept saying over and over "I need to get home to my boyfriend. How could I not have gone home?" I rushed around the room collecting my clothing. I couldn't find my bra so I began yelling about that. After a few minutes of panicked searching, I threw on my shirt and left without it.
I found my way to the front door of the house I was in and left as quickly as possible. I expected to be in the middle of town, near the dive bar, a block from home. I looked around and had no idea where I was. The road I was on looked familiar to me, but I couldn't place exactly where I was. There was a traffic light at the nearest visible intersection so I decided to walk towards it. I shuffled frantically through my purse in search of my phone. I wanted to call Ty, but didn't even know what I would say to him. I was confused and overwhelmed with guilt. I had let myself loose control to the point of blacking out and unintentionally fucked up everything Ty and I had worked so hard to rebuild. What was worse was that I did it for nothing. Not only did my actions of the night before benefit no one, I couldn't even remember them. I was sore in all the wrong places, so I was aware that I had slept with someone, but not one gory detail of the act stuck in my head.
As I got to the traffic light I realized where I was. I was more than a mile away from home, and from the last point I remembered being at the night before. My head was swimming, scrambling to recall any trace of how I had gotten there. I called Em, hoping for answers but only got her voicemail. I called Bea next. No response there either. I called a handful of other people before my college roommate, and one of my closest friends, finally returned my call. I got about two words in before red flags went off and she immediately became concerned. She thought something didn't seem right and that I had obviously been taken advantage of. Not knowing what had happened, I didn't really take what she had said seriously. I wrote this off as her being a good, supportive friend and just saying what would be the option that would make me look best. Not long into the conversation, Bea chimed in. She had stayed at a friend's house in town and offered to come pick me up.
When Bea and her friend reached me, I had made it to Main st., was without a jacket (it was warm the night before) or a bra, and it was starting to snow. I was freezing and looked like some pathetic, abandoned orphan. I got in the car and tried to explain what I could. They had drank a considerable amount more than I had and barely even recalled my leaving the night before. I was embarrassed and told them that I didn't know if I had slept with the guy or not, even though I was fairly certain that I had. They both said, "This happens." "Don't worry about it. We all have nights like this." I don't. Sitting in the back of the car, I noticed that my elbow was throbbing. It was dirty and scraped raw. The top of my right foot was in a similar state, and there were bits of leaves, twigs, and rocks wedged inside my shoes. I could smell old saliva and cigarettes and was ashamed to realize that this smell was coming from my face and neck.
I rode with Bea to her friend's house where we had breakfast and watched TV for a few hours. Shortly after eating, I received a text message from a number I didn't recognize. It read "i found your bra." Clearly this was from the blond guy. I replied "okay." Over the next hour, the following conversation occurred via text (with improved spelling and punctuation to make things more readable):
Blond Guy: did i fall or something last night?
Me: i have no idea. i don't remember anything from last night
Blond Guy: haha gotta love nights like those
Blond Guy: did (insert other guy's name) leave you an angry message too
Me: no. i don't think so
Blond Guy: oh he left me a few. he sounded really pissed
Me: why?
Blond Guy: because of what happened in the bathroom of the dive
Me: what happened in the bathroom?
Blond Guy: you guys had sex...
Me: no we didn't
Blond Guy: yeah you did. but it's all cool as long as that's not something you do all the time
Me: what's not something I do all the time?
Blond Guy: sleep with 2 guys in one night
I nervously checked my voicemail and found two angry, threatening messages from the guy who apparently fucked me in the bathroom. I didn't really listen to them for content, the fact that they existed was enough for me at that point. I wanted to cry but I couldn't. I couldn't focus enough to be upset enough to cry. I called my college friend back. Before I could even tell her the second part of my lost night, she told me that she had a phone number for me. It was for a rape hotline. Even though I thought she was overreacting by taking that idea so seriously, I have to admit it did cross my mind. I explained what I had learned through my texting session and she became insistent that I at least call and talk to someone. I felt uncomfortable and got off the phone with her as quickly as possible.
Then Ty called. He sounded angry. He asked where I had been. I said that I had stayed with friends of Bea's. He asked when I would be home. I said soon. So, I nervously hitched a ride back to Ty's.
I walked in the door of Ty's apartment and his roommate, and our mutual best friend, bolted out the door as quickly as possible, anticipating the intense discussion that was about to ensue. Ty was sitting on the couch. I sat down on the love seat next to him. He asked what happened the night before and I said I didn't know. He asked me where I spent the night. I said I didn't know. I can only assume that I must have looked like something horrible happened to me. Ty informed me later that I never took my coat off the entire time I was at his apartment, and that I kept my hands buried deep in the pockets of the coat. I don't remember this detail. He asked me if I fucked someone. I said I thought so, and that it might have been more than one person. Ty left the room and punched a hole in his wall. He came back out and asked me a million questions. I told him what I knew but that wasn't much. I just remember repeating "I don't know" for almost every answer. He seemed upset, but never once mad. Not mad at me anyway. I started to cry a little. I apologized. I said that I should leave. He explained that he wanted me to do what I thought I had to do, but that I didn't have to leave. I changed my pants (with coat still on), packed up my things, packed up my bunny, and packed my car. He walked me out to my car and said that he would call me. I asked if things were over between us, he stated that he didn't know what things were. He kissed me and I left.
My drive back home was the type were every 30 miles or so you stop and realize that you don't remember the last chunk of your trip. Where you don't even remember if you were paying attention to the road or not and it's scary because you feel like you could have caused a million accidents, but you didn't. When I got of the thruway I had to pull over. I was feeling dizzy again. It almost felt like I wasn't getting enough oxygen to my brain, panic attack style. I sat for a moment, taking deep breaths. It didn't really help. I received a phone call from a friend who I had been trying to reach most of the morning. He is essentially the male version of me so I was counting on him to help me hash over the previous 24 hours. He isn't ever really shaken up by anything. He didn't seem shocked by these events, but was able to recognize that something wasn't right. I was using his reaction as a gauge of how freaked out I should be. I remained moderately spooked.
After I got home I unpacked the bunny and wanted to get cleaned up. I was too exhausted to stand for an entire shower so I took a bath. I was right in the middle of washing my hair when the phone rang. I don't know why, but I decided to answer it, soap on hands and all. It was Ty. He asked what I was doing and I told him that I was right in the middle of shampooing my hair. Tyler told me that the moment I left he began trying to figure out what had happened. He had looked into drug facilitated sexual assault and that I was pretty much the poster child for being date raped. Even more, one of the signs for being raped was repeatedly washing your hair (although I think that was just a coincidence). I really couldn't agree or disagree with him.
I got out of the tub and started prepping for bed. It was at this point that I noticed the bruises. The insides of my thighs were sore, and looked like they were starting to turn black and blue. I had a series of small, round bruises on one shoulder that resembled fingerprints. The other shoulder had one large bruise starting to form across the top and hurt more and more as the day went on. The top of my head was a little swollen and achy. I also remembered that I had a strange pen mark that went across my hip, below where my underwear would be. I wanted to ignore all of these things. I was exhausted and incapable of concentrating on any one thing enough for it to make sense. So, I pulled Ixorstix's cage close to the couch, turned on the TV and went to sleep.
Tuesday
'Bout Time (read me first)
This blog-thing almost slipped my mind. Every once in a while I thought about writing, and I have had plenty of good content, but I am not a motivated typer. The topic that convinced me to start this thing in the first place, however, has not slipped my mind. It is something I think about daily, more than six months after the fact. Finally though, it is not something that I think about with fear or anxiety, but something I think about with questions and amazement. Guess it's time I stop beating around the bush.
Mid November 2008, I went out to celebrate a friends birthday. For identification purposes I guess I'll call her Bea. Prior to meeting up with Bea I was watching Escape from New York with Ty and having a grand ol' time. This is probably a good time to explain that Ty and I had ended a 9.5ish year relationship a few months prior and had only been back together for about one month. This month had been turbulent, but things were looking up and this was the best evening we had spent together in a long time. The night was shaping up nicely.
I met Bea and one of her other friends for dinner at a local bar and grill(e). I ate a giant dinner in preparation for what was destined to be a long, alcohol driven night. Bea informed me that we would be going to the pub next door where she had planned to meet up with some of her friends from work. I knew only one of these people, and she was a close friend of mine from middle school. We'll call her Em. I was pumped to see Em since the local scene was a bit of a let down and I was not in the "party" mood that I had hoped to be in. I had a drink or two at the pub before I was told that we were moving on. I was okay with this, as the playlist of "Daughtry" and Toby Keith was sucking the life out of me.
As unimaginable as it may seem, the next bar was worse. This was a bar with a reputation. On an average night it was home to what could loosely be described as a club scene. This night it had a sub-par cover band. To make things even less fun, nearly everyone I was with was three sheets to the wind and enjoying the music. I was feigning excitement and wishing that I was less full and less sober. Luckily, Em was right there with me. She was driving and possibly even less enthused by this hole than I was. We stayed by the bar because it was slightly farther from the band. Here we bumped into two guys that visually did not fit into the crowed and offered up some good conversation. It was getting to be kind of late, considering the bars in this town closed at 1am, and Em still wanted to stop in at another establishment to check in on an old friend. These two guys were looking to head toward a different bar in the same direction and offered to escort us.
It turned out that the friend Em wanted to check up on was a little too excited to see her and his girlfriend was not pleased. Luckily the two guys were heading to a dive bar that I had always wanted to check out. This bar was only a block from Ty's house so I felt quite safe in heading over with them and waiting for Em there.
We arrived at the dive, where the guys introduced me to the bartender, whom they appeared to know quite well. They bought me a drink- bottled PBR. I found myself chatting much more with one of the guys than the other. The one I didn't talk to was tall and blonde. He had no other stand out features and was tragically uninteresting. The other guy was chatty and didn't have awful taste. The song "Use Somebody" by Kings of Leon was playing and he sympathized with me as I complained about how much I disliked it. Em arrived and interrupted a heated debate over whether or not "Fargo" was the funniest movie ever made. My vote was on yes. Em was tired and looking to leave. It was nearly 2am at this point and I didn't want to keep her while I finished my drink. She offered to drive me home, but I declined. I explained that I planned to call Ty and have him come walk me home. I don't ever remember seeing Em leave. As far as I can recall, this was the end of my night.
Mid November 2008, I went out to celebrate a friends birthday. For identification purposes I guess I'll call her Bea. Prior to meeting up with Bea I was watching Escape from New York with Ty and having a grand ol' time. This is probably a good time to explain that Ty and I had ended a 9.5ish year relationship a few months prior and had only been back together for about one month. This month had been turbulent, but things were looking up and this was the best evening we had spent together in a long time. The night was shaping up nicely.
I met Bea and one of her other friends for dinner at a local bar and grill(e). I ate a giant dinner in preparation for what was destined to be a long, alcohol driven night. Bea informed me that we would be going to the pub next door where she had planned to meet up with some of her friends from work. I knew only one of these people, and she was a close friend of mine from middle school. We'll call her Em. I was pumped to see Em since the local scene was a bit of a let down and I was not in the "party" mood that I had hoped to be in. I had a drink or two at the pub before I was told that we were moving on. I was okay with this, as the playlist of "Daughtry" and Toby Keith was sucking the life out of me.
As unimaginable as it may seem, the next bar was worse. This was a bar with a reputation. On an average night it was home to what could loosely be described as a club scene. This night it had a sub-par cover band. To make things even less fun, nearly everyone I was with was three sheets to the wind and enjoying the music. I was feigning excitement and wishing that I was less full and less sober. Luckily, Em was right there with me. She was driving and possibly even less enthused by this hole than I was. We stayed by the bar because it was slightly farther from the band. Here we bumped into two guys that visually did not fit into the crowed and offered up some good conversation. It was getting to be kind of late, considering the bars in this town closed at 1am, and Em still wanted to stop in at another establishment to check in on an old friend. These two guys were looking to head toward a different bar in the same direction and offered to escort us.
It turned out that the friend Em wanted to check up on was a little too excited to see her and his girlfriend was not pleased. Luckily the two guys were heading to a dive bar that I had always wanted to check out. This bar was only a block from Ty's house so I felt quite safe in heading over with them and waiting for Em there.
We arrived at the dive, where the guys introduced me to the bartender, whom they appeared to know quite well. They bought me a drink- bottled PBR. I found myself chatting much more with one of the guys than the other. The one I didn't talk to was tall and blonde. He had no other stand out features and was tragically uninteresting. The other guy was chatty and didn't have awful taste. The song "Use Somebody" by Kings of Leon was playing and he sympathized with me as I complained about how much I disliked it. Em arrived and interrupted a heated debate over whether or not "Fargo" was the funniest movie ever made. My vote was on yes. Em was tired and looking to leave. It was nearly 2am at this point and I didn't want to keep her while I finished my drink. She offered to drive me home, but I declined. I explained that I planned to call Ty and have him come walk me home. I don't ever remember seeing Em leave. As far as I can recall, this was the end of my night.
Glow
Monday was crummy. Crummier than any other day yet this year. "Hipster Runoff" was on blog radio (a Left of Center/Sirius XMU radio show) which will always make me crabby. Plus I had a pile of busywork to do. Then around noonish I received an upsetting phone call, the subject of which I will discuss at a later date. The culmination of these things led me to leave work early. Really, it was just the phone call that convinced me to take a half day, but I like to make a big deal about just how shitty Hipster Runoff is.
When I got to my house, I didn't do anything. This is weird because I am an annoying busy-body. I just kind of sat in my quiet living room staring at a blank computer screen. This might sound serene, but it wasn't. It was creepy. I was feeling a little woozy, a little foggy, and very anxious. After sitting in silence for about an hour and a half, a thought popped into my head. "Why the fuck isn't the TV on?"
I love TV. I am proud to say that TV raised me. I think I pay more for my cable than I do for my heat, and I like it that way. I like to think I have pretty okay taste. For some reason, though, much of what I watch is the worst of what TV has to offer. Monday was a shining example of that. When I turned TV on, I immediately put on the 2002 Amanda Bynes sitcom "What I Like About You." Like some magic pacifier, it stopped me from whimpering and calmed me right down. I love TV.
The evening improved as Tyler drove up to keep me company. It continued to improve as he revealed that he had called in to work that night. We ate ice cream and it was awesome. A total pick-me-up. As usual, we watched TV pretty much all night. Watching TV with people who aren't TV lovers makes me realize how awful the crap I watch actually is. Trying to catch a non-watcher up on the plot of Gossip Girl enough that they will understand what's happening is a hard thing to do with a straight face. Still, I record and watch that show weekly. I lived for a year in college without cable. It was the worst living experience of my life. Not specifically due to no TV, but it was a major contributing factor. People who choose or preach no TV are assholes. I could not have made it through the week, or the last 25 years without it.Monday
Disclaimer
I'm no writer. In fact, I really dislike writing. I tried to keep a journal as a kid and had to offer myself incentives to even doodle in any diary sort of thing. I really liked buying stationary so usually I would reward myself for writing by buying something new to write on. That never really worked.
2008 was bad for me. Really bad. Bad enough that I started seeing a counselor. As a homework assignment she asked me to write a letter to a specific event in my life. This seemed silly. I'm in a counseling-type graduate program, so I know what all of these tasks are getting at. "Putting your feelings onto paper changes them from thoughts into actual, tangible things." "Writing about your problems gives you an outlet for any hostility, so that you are not taking things out on people who don't deserve it." "Once you start writing you may be surprised by how much you have to say." I know this. I'm sure that this is really helpful too. I'm just way too cynical to take stuff like this seriously. Writing about things in 'blog' format seemed like some sort of a compromise to me. Not sure why.
I feel the need to explain all of this so that people don't read this as though I am some sort of author. Anyone reading who might be looking for a well written editorial or a thoughtful opinion piece should go away. I guess this is just an attempt at some catharsis. That being said, things have been pretty interesting for me lately. Sad, but interesting. Have fun reading.
2008 was bad for me. Really bad. Bad enough that I started seeing a counselor. As a homework assignment she asked me to write a letter to a specific event in my life. This seemed silly. I'm in a counseling-type graduate program, so I know what all of these tasks are getting at. "Putting your feelings onto paper changes them from thoughts into actual, tangible things." "Writing about your problems gives you an outlet for any hostility, so that you are not taking things out on people who don't deserve it." "Once you start writing you may be surprised by how much you have to say." I know this. I'm sure that this is really helpful too. I'm just way too cynical to take stuff like this seriously. Writing about things in 'blog' format seemed like some sort of a compromise to me. Not sure why.
I feel the need to explain all of this so that people don't read this as though I am some sort of author. Anyone reading who might be looking for a well written editorial or a thoughtful opinion piece should go away. I guess this is just an attempt at some catharsis. That being said, things have been pretty interesting for me lately. Sad, but interesting. Have fun reading.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)