nothing like seeing one of my rapist front and center on linkedin.
successful and making the most out of life.
it's not fair. it's not fair. it's not fair.
let's look back on this as logically and unemotional as possible.
i was running behind. still doing my hair and makeup when you showed up.
"damn, dee, you're already drunk!"
no, no i wasn't. i hadn't had anything. i didn't have time to.
ok, i'm ready, let's go. but no, you noticed the melting vodka on ice on the counter. you urged me to chug it. what you didn't know was that i always mixed vodka 50/50 with water.
i drank it and felt nothing.
in the car i ask about the others we're supposed to pick up. oh, they're running late. they'll meet us at the club.
you mention how drunk i am, then you hand me your phone, i reply to a few texts. it all seemed so normal - minus the whole me being drunk part.
we get to drais. a party rock wednesday. i loved those nights with LMFAO. i never had any interest in picking up guys. i just wanted to dance.
so, we get inside and your friends still aren't there. we go to the bar and i order a grey goose pear on ice. something i've never been able to drink since. you tell me to go sit in the booth in the back of the room. our friends are expecting to find us there. you'll bring our drinks.
the next thing i know is that you're telling me we're getting kicked out of the club. i look down at my nearly full drink. i stumble. the bouncers are escorting us out.
we get in your car and you tell me i had too much and i shouldn't pregame so much next time.
i wake up and we're on the freeway, about 30 minutes from my house. you yawn. you exaggerate your yawn. oh, you're so tired you can't finish driving? so convenient there's parking lots on the side of the freeway. you pull into one.
you mention once again, how drunk i am. how tired you are.
i pull out my phone and start checking facebook. you didn't expect me to be awake.
"you need water or you're going to be so hungover in the morning"
conveniently, you have bottles of water in your trunk. you take your time getting me one.
the next memory i have. it's the morning. and you're having, what i assume, is another go at me.
do i need to mention that i would never? not in a million years?
it wasn't my first, nor my last time being roofied. it makes you so sick. i called out of work. it was a thursday.
on friday i get to work. the office is in an uproar. you quit. you, the ceo's best friend. the lead engineer. you quit without another job lined up.
i was relieved, i didn't know how i would handle it all.
i never told anyone.
you moved across the country. got married. had children. you're successful. you're rich. everyone still loves you.
and i'm forever picking up these pieces of me.