The Assault: The Drunken Pass

I have a small and select group of girlfriends. They are all the most amazing people, who I can trust with any information, and to take care of me if I needed it. I very seldom am accepting of new women into my life, I don't trust them. It's an instinctual thing, women are hard to trust because they are more emotional, they are more likely to stab you in the back. Due to this and a thousand other reasons, women are drama queens and to be trusted only at your own risk. I am more likely to befriend a man any day of the week than I am to let myself get to close to a new woman I don't know.

• Women with a childhood history of sexual abuse are 4.7 times more likely to be subsequently raped (Merrill, et al, 1997).
• Of female Americans who are raped, 54% experience their first rape before age 18. (Ibid)
• Of surveyed college women, about 90% of rape and sexual assault victims knew their attacker prior to the assault (Fisher, 2000)
• 69% of teen sexual assaults reported to law enforcement occurred in the residence of the victim, the offender, or another individual (Snyder, 2000).

Changed names...

• My roommates Best friend: Slut
• The guy I'm dating: Joe
• Slut's guy Friend: Creeper

I have always had the feelings that women were drama, and trouble, but while I was at college, I only had so many friends. Sometimes you just need a girlfriend, and while my lovely ladies were at their respective colleges, I had to fill the hole. I let myself get friendly with a rather anti-social girl, because that way, she needed me more than I needed her. After she got crazy and clingy and tried to sleep on the floor of my dorm every night (even though her room was just a few doors down); I had to make a new friend. My roommate was a pretty cool girl, and she was always asking me to come hang out. I eventually became sort of friends with her, and her best friend. I was more friends with her friend because we spent a lot of time hanging out with the same group of guys.

At one point, I was dating this really cute older guy. His eyes were amazing, he was sweet, and I really was attracted to him, in every way. I spent most nights in his dorm, and a lot of time texting him when we weren't together. One particular evening, he was having a guys night with his roommate, they were going to the bar and get wasted. My friends were all either home for the weekend or out at bars, since I was under 21, I had nothing official happening that night.

While I was on my trek from my car to the dorms, Slut pulled up next to me to see what I was up to. She had a case of beer in the car, we parked, and knocked back some beer. After we put a big enough dent in the case, we grabbed the last of them and headed back to the dorms. At the time I was a two beer queer. We weren't supposed to have beer in our dorm, but Slut had a friend who was over 21, so we went to Creeper's room, so if he got caught with the beer, he was old enough to have it.

I was already drunk by the time we got to the room, Slut kept asking me about Joe and how everything was, and what he was doing tonight, I didn't think anything of it, I was drunk. She kept passing me beers, and I didn't know my limit, and because it was happening so fast, probably not everything that I had drank had really gotten to me yet. I kept telling Slut that I wanted a cigarette, I wanted to go outside, and then I wanted her to take me to my room. I was so drunk at this point that I could barely keep my eyes open.

She asked to borrow my phone, gave creeper a hug and a big smile, took my phone, and left. Apparently, Slut had no plans of coming back for me. She was busy calling Joe and trying to get him to hang out with her because she wanted to fuck him, and she didn't care what that cost me. As I began to fade in and out of consciousness, Creeper started try and make moves on me. I pushed him off and told him I wanted to go to my room, he said he would take me soon.

As the time between conscious and unconscious grew, I woke up to Creeper on top of me, he was, rather vigorously, fucking my limp unconscious body. I tried to say something, but as I lifted my head I blacked out again. The next time I woke up, I was laying in his bed, half dressed, feeling very sick, and with a very sore vagina, he wasn't around. I managed to put pants on, and grab the rest of my clothes. I can picture walking up to my room as if I were watching myself, but I don't remember doing it. I just had a bundle of clothing and kept falling into the wall, trying to find stairs, trying to find my room, trying to be anywhere but there. I don't remember getting back to my room, but I remember waking up there, sore, and with the familiar feeling of being dirty all over. I stayed in bed most of the day, my roommate got my phone back from Slut, but I didn't want to do anything anyway.

Eventually Joe asked me to come see him, it was the only thing that seemed to make me feel better. He mentioned how Slut kept calling him from my phone, but he barely knew her and didn't understand why she wanted to hang out with him. I felt safe because Joe and I weren't having sex, never did, and he was a big guy so I trusted him to protect me. I remember falling asleep in his arms, and then him waking me in the middle of the night. He said he really had to pee and asked if I wanted to go for a walk. Why one of those things led to the other I'm not sure, but that's what happened. We walked around the dorm building, and he finally stopped somewhere to pee. As I was standing there in the middle of the night, in the dark, freezing, wearing nothing put my pajamas, and wrapping my arms around myself for warmth, I felt something come out of my already very sore lady parts.

That feeling is very hard to describe, but it scared this shit out of me. I had no idea what just happened, for all I knew, I just had a miscarriage and there was a very small baby laying in my underwear. I was terrified, but didn't want to tell Joe was had just happened. I started bouncing up in down, and telling Joe to hurry up, I was cold, and needed to go to the bathroom. We made it back to his room, and I ran into the bathroom to see what had happened. That's when I saw it, it was just there, smashed up, almost unrecognizable, a ripped condom. Which Creeper must have lost while he was violently thrusting into me.

That was followed by the standard fears that anyone would have if a condom ripped during consensual sex. What if I get pregnant? What is this fucking ass's sperm actually got to one of my eggs? What am I going to do? How long can you wait until you take the morning after pill? Will is still work? What are my chances? I spent the next day waiting at planned parenthood for the pill, I had seventy two hours, after the incident to get the pill, which would, by the grace of God, kill whatever devil seed that prick may have put inside of me.

I only trust a few girls, because bitches are back-stabbing, and usually just out for themselves. Slut got me drunk, and then passed me off to some creeper, with no regards what he would do to me, but she wanted me good and drunk, so she could take my phone and try and fuck my boyfriend.

Bill (Part 3)

Disclaimer...If as you read this, you ask yourself, "how much more stupid can she get?" Just keep reading. Same goes for when you begin to wonder "How much more of this is she going to take?" The pain ends eventually, but it goes through a few ups and downs. There are probably a few holes in my stories from things I can't remember, but I'll do my best to get across each fun filled little event.

I remember taking Bill to a lot of halfway houses. He always had to go back and get his stuff. Not only were they in really bad parts of Philadelphia, I would sit in the car by myself, which I guess was safer than going inside with all the junkies. I got in trouble on plenty of nights for letting him stay at my house. My mom didn't trust him, understandably, you can't trust junkies. Since I was blind to the fact that he could be a bad person, I never understood why it bothered my mom so much.

I remember going to pick him up at his house on many occasions too. I would sit in the living room with his mom. One time she had a container full of baby ducks she was raising, another time there was a baby squirrel up her sleeve, literally. She'd stand there and tell me that she didn't understand why I would keep coming back. She did the same thing, but Bill was her baby, she had a good reason, I should have walked away. I remember her telling me that he hit her once, smacked her around. I didn't believe it, but I'm not surprised, it could have gone either way because they were both liars.

One day a few of my friends and I went to Bill's house, his friend M was there. He was in a really good mood, we were all hanging out, and having a good time. It didn't take long for him to not be in as good of a mood. He got up at one point and disappeared for a while. Then when I was going to get up to check on him, M stopped me, he knew that Bill had a drug problem because they did drugs together. When they both came back, it was a different situation. He stripped down and it turned into almost an orgy without the sex I guess, I mean, it was just nakedness and kissing everywhere. It bothered me in a way, even though sex eventually didn't mean anything between the two of us, I didn't think it was something he'd up and do with anyone around.

Bill in I always stayed in touch. I went away to college and he was always getting clean and all that good stuff. Even when I was at school he would call me every now and then, it was always nice to hear that he was still alive. The last I heard, he had died once and was resuscitated, and he ODed about 8 times. At least he tries hard...

At one point when I was in college, in another state might I add, he called my from Philly because he was getting out of a mental hospital. He told me how his mom wouldn't let him come home, and he had no where to go. I drove in the middle of the night from college, to the hospital to pick him up the day he got discharged. I drove him all the way back to my dorm. He stayed with me for about a week or more. He started some fights, and freaked out one of the girls down the hall. I finally got a notice saying that the school had reason to believe that someone else was living in my dorm room, and they were going to come check.

Before I finally took Bill home from college, he of course hooked up with some girls there. He would talk about how much he loved college. He took money from me, among other things, like he's great at ruining friendships, and stealing my clothes and cd's. The day that I got the note, my roommate called me. She didn't mind that he was there. I think I was finally starting to come to the end of my ability to deal with Bill. He would call me every day and tell me that he needed food, or cigarettes, he couldn't seem to make himself anything to eat, he of course didn't have any money. I felt like I was blessed when I finally got that note from the school, I wanted him gone.

Another long night of driving, I was free of Bill. I can guarantee that there is more shit that he put me through, but I either don't want to go through it in my head, or I don't want to see it in writing. Knowing that it's all true, and it I put up with it, makes it hard. Since he left my college, I think I've talked to him a few times. His story last was that he was going to college. Then another time he was joining the air force. I've had phone calls from him mom, because he still lies to her by saying that he's going out with me, she still trusts me. I respect her enough to tell her the truth, I haven't seen him, and I didn't know he was using me as an excuse. I remember the last time that I saw Bill, I was driving down a street near is house.

He was sitting on the side of the road, with a trash bag, and no shoes. I felt myself hit the break on the car. I thought to myself, I'm driving in a brand new car, doing really well, and he's going to see that and think that I have money, and that he can take advantage of me again. I let go of the break and kept driving. I checked my rear view mirror as I threw my cigarette out the window. My rear window, where he should be, behind me. I hope I can keep him there. I still love him, and that part of me that he will always have is the part that wanted to hit the breaks. The part that wanted to pull the car over and give him a hug, tell him everything would be okay. The piece of me that knows, deep down inside, that former honors student, athlete, loving, caring person is in that mess of drugs somewhere.

I know he's been terrible to me, and for me. He isn't always bad. He always supported me. When I was in a relationship at college he was happy for me, he thought we were good together. After I told him about Bobby he was really glad that I found someone that treats me so well and I want to spend the rest of my life with. All I can do is pray for him, maybe one day, years from now, he'll come to a high school reunion or something, clean with a job, or just clean would be great. I've been to more NA meetings and sober parties than I can remember, but I guess it was worth it, as much as it hurt, and can still hurt. I'm a stronger person, I know that because I could drive away from the boy who stole my heart in 7th grade, and hasn't given it all back.

Bill (Part 2)

Disclaimer...If as you read this, you ask yourself, "how much more stupid can she get?" Just keep reading. Same goes for when you begin to wonder "How much more of this is she going to take?" The pain ends eventually, but it goes through a few ups and downs. There are probably a few holes in my stories from things I can't remember, but I'll do my best to get across each fun filled little event.

Besides the obvious inconsideration for my feelings, or anyone's feelings for that matter, through the course of Bill's drug abuse, there were a few events that are worth mentioning. Once during a visit to a mental hospital, Bill met a girl who was there becaus she tried to kill herself, unsuccessfully, obviously. While Bill was spending at least some of his time, getting me to believe that he loved me, he also decided to have some quality time with this girl. I can only assume the worst. I even think she called me once, wanting to know why I was trying to "get with her man."

Prom night, every girl waits for that moment, when they have the perfect dress and the perfect date. Bill would have easily been my perfect date, and the dress, that was already perfect. Bill instead of going with me decided to ask some other girl we went to high school with, one who I hated on top of that. I was pretty upset about it, well, that's an understatement. I think I managed to have a good time anyway, I brought my best friend Jil, and danced with everyone else's date. I got my picture taken with a friend, I wanted them taken with Bill, but by the grace of God, my friends wouldn't let that happen.

After prom a bunch of us went to stay at a friend's beach house. We had our cute little room assignments with our dates, but actually, I ended up being with Bill. His date didn't come to the beach house, and I'm a glutten for punishment. He was obviously strung out on dope for the duration of our trip. He would stay up late at night, and sleep a lot during the day, he came in with me one night, and we almost had sex. I don't know why I was going to do it, but I wanted him, I always wanted him. Again, my friends saved the day, they refused to supply a condom, and no sex was had.

Don't let that fool you, he's the boy I lost my virginity to. That was an interest turn of events. It came down to that fact that I didn't want to go away to college a virgin, I wanted to have sex with someone I had feelings for, and I cared about. I considered Bill my best friend, even thought he could be an ass. So the day came, and I went to the grocery store and got condoms, and went to his house. We started off really slow, he didn't want to hurt me. In the end, we had sex for what seemed like hours, in actuality, it was probably only about an hour. The benefits of boning junkies, they have a real hard time getting off when they're high. I don't regret it. I wanted it to be special, and it was, at least for me.

After the first time, sex turned into a thing we just did. I'd come over, we'd watch some tv, chain smoke a bit, talk, and usually have sex. It didn't take long for sex to lose meaning to me, it already meant very little to me because I was sexually assulted, but I thought maybe by doing it with someone I cared about I could bring some love back into it. The love that might have been there the first time was soon gone, sex was sex. Penis in vagina, thrusting...over. It took me years to find meaning in sex again, meaningless lovers, meaningless sex, meaningless me.

To be continued...the pain isn't over yet.

Bill (Part 1)

I feel like it is time to tell a story that is not only hard for me to tell, but hard for me to think about. It's a sad story really, because it starts off seemingly good, and then ends in heartache. There are unfortunately ups and downs, and the downs hurt the most because at the age this happened, I was naive. At any rate, this is the story of a boy, who could have grown up to be a smart, successful man, but instead lives on the streets, and though he seems to have nothing, will always be carrying a piece of my heart.

I first met Bill in my seventh grade English class, 4Th period, Ms. Davis. He was very quite, and sat in the back of the room. I was not exactly a social butterfly, but I noticed him, and for a while, that's all it was. I had a boyfriend, Doug, not the most attractive man in the world, but I settled, it's what I did. Bill and I also had biology together, I think that was 7Th period, with Mr. Keller, he was the greatest teacher ever. Somehow, I'm not quite sure, Bill and I came to know each other, though there is one specific time that I would consider our first cordial meeting.

We were both on the track team, I spent most of my time doing shot-put and occasionally long distance with my friend Amanda. Bill did the same events but he did them with his friend, Josh. On this special day, after a track meet, I was standing in the middle of the track with Amanda getting our equipment together to carry it all back inside, when Bill and Josh came up to us. Josh introduced everyone as though we'd never met, then Bill asked me if I wanted help carrying my stuff, and I let him help.

After that we spent a lot more time together. Doug and I broke up, and I started "dating" Bill. Doug was in a freak baseball accident and I, as much as I regret it now, dumped Bill to get back together with Doug. To this day, Bill blames me for this. He never let me forget it, and he sees as the point where is life fell apart.

We had a few dates. I remember one day in particular where I took the bus home with him, one of the first times I remember meeting his mom. We were sitting in his backyard on the deck, surrounded by various animals and reptiles. When we finally got up the nerve to hold hands, his mom came running out the back door screaming "Cannibals! Cannibals!" While running at the wild turkeys who were wandering around the backyard. We quickly pulled our hands apart.

In an unfortunate turn of events, Bill went from a guy who lifted weights all the time, and was on the wrestling team, to a junkie. It didn't happen all at once, but he went straight from weed to heroin, after that he went back and tried crack and stuff, but heroin was his first true love. Bill and I were both going through rough times, but we would make deals that we both knew we wouldn't keep. I would promise not to cut myself, and Bill would promise not to use. It wasn't because they were equal problems, but because I cared about him, I didn't want him doing drugs. He cared about me, and didn't want me to hurt myself.

Then came the ups and downs, he was in the hospital, he was out, he ODed, he was clean. Bill would overdose and then go to the hospital. On those days I would cut school and lay in the hospital bed with him all day, well, until They came to take him to the mental hospital. Those days while we laid there he was probably my favorite person. After he finally realized where he was and what was going on, he was the sweetest man in the world to me. I just sucked it all up, and clung to it like a life preserver while I waited for him to get back out of the mental hospital.

Sometimes he would disappear for a while, and when he would come back I was the only person he was allowed to hang out with, because his mom trusted me. I let him break my heart time and time again. I told him I loved him even though he would go out scoring dope and not come back for days, or end up in the hospital, or get arrested. I loved him through it all.

I loved him because of the person I knew he could be. The way he took care of me sometimes, he had a way of making you smile no matter what happened. It was pretty amazing, he was pretty amazing. I'd love to say that I grew out of the relationship, and realized that he was a mess. Unfortunately, that is not the case, it was a mess for a long time. Sometimes I wouldn't talk to him for a while, and I would just try not to think about it, but he always came back. Somehow or another Bill would be a part of my life until I almost graduated from college. Now I only can pray that I'm strong enough to stay away from him.