i wasn't going to include him. but i must.
i had just gotten back to victoria after spending christmas in toronto. after my break up with chris, i couldn't afford to move everything home yet, so i was back, trying to make enough money to move back across the continent for the second time in a year...5th time in a decade, i should add.
my friend and i wanted to go out dancing. it was a sunday in victoria, not exactly the best day in the best town for a party, but we persevered. we cabbed from place to place, the last of which was a club i had never been to.
we walked in, two of maybe a dozen people in a minimum 100-capacity space. we went straight to the bar and ordered two coronas, two tequilas. like good service industry kids, we made friends with the bartender right away, buying him a shot.
as we stood there, a man i hadn't noticed walked up to us and started flirting with me. right away, i knew i wasn't interested. he was very tall, with a to-the-scalp shaved head and an accent---new zealand, i discovered upon reluctant investigation. i was about 2 beers and 3 shots in---by no means my limit, but i was feeling good enough that i was able to at least humour the man who had the nerve to approach me---an uncommon occurrence.
as he got closer, and my friend continued to talk to the bartender, he bet me a dime that he could kiss me without touching my lips. innocent to this ploy despite years in bars, i took the bet. of course he kissed me and handed me the dime and i felt like an idiot, duped.
then i blacked out.
i woke up naked, in a strange bed in a strange apartment, with this man standing over me, fully clothed and brushing his teeth, waking me up.
now, i should state here, this wasn't TOTALLY foreign to me. i had definitely woken up in a similar situation as this before.
when i sat up, i felt like i was still drunk. so i assumed i had gotten wasted and just gone home with this idiot against better judgement. again, not the first time. i quickly dressed---my clothes were neatly folded and on the couch---and tried to pull it together, act cool, everything's fine. he called me a cab and on my way out the door, i stood up on my tippy toes and kissed him good-bye.
when i got home, my friend, who i was staying with, was already up. "how was YOUR night?" she asked. "ok i guess" was my response, i think. i stumbled into the living room/my room and passed out.
when i woke up, i knew something was wrong. i felt weird, wonky like i'd done e or something---and i have done enough drugs to know when something foreign is in my system. in an effort to straighten out, my friend and i walked to our usual sandwich place. it was when we were walking home that i realized, all of a sudden:
i had been drugged.
i had been drugged by some asshole at some bar, who knows what he'd done to me, and i had KISSED HIM WILLINGLY ON THE WAY OUT.
of everything that has come out through this experience---the hospital, the rape kit, the questions, the police reports---THAT is what kills me. that i have put myself in so many fucked up, terrible sexual situations that when i was put in one involuntarily, i couldn't tell the difference.
i wish i could say this woke me up, changed my ways... i went the other way. in my last month in victoria, i slept with half a dozen strangers, eager to erase any evidence that this piece of shit was ever inside me. when i returned home, i continued on this charming path, taking my clothes off for pretty much anyone who gave me the time of day.
but when i went to that bar in victoria that night, i was looking for the same thing as i have every time i've walked into any bar or social situation. a fun time with a girlfriend, and maybe a chance at love.
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