Rape isn't anything to be ashamed of.

I mentioned it today in Mel's post about bad dates. And then thought to myself, "Jeez, if anyone reads that who knows me and hadn't heard the story ... " so I thought I'd mention it again.

I know I've spoken about this before. Maybe in my old blog. Maybe in this blog. I'm not sure. Maybe it wasn't a whole post, it could have been in some random meme of sorts, but let me take a little time to explain my thoughts.

The day after my 25th birthday, I was raped multiple times by the same man.

I was vacationing, alone, in San Diego. I was staying with a friend, but he worked during the day, leaving me alone to search out the city by day. One of those days was spent getting pretty fucking drunk in a bar on Pacific beach. I had spent the morning swimming and found my way into a bar. I met some locals and we were having a great time. I was already quite drunk (hey, I was on vacation!) when one guy suggested to move the party to his place. I was game. I remember getting on the back of his motorcycle and riding to his place. Once inside, his other friend joined us and the very last thing I remember was the friend handing me a drink.

That was it.

I regained consciousness about 16 hours later and he was on top of me. I blacked out again. I came to and he was gone. There were multiple condoms laying on the ground. I stood up and dressed. I didn't feel like I was hungover, it was a strange feeling. I was disoriented and found my way out of the room where he was there. He put me in his car and dropped me off where he found me, in front of that bar.

I was sickened. I was full of guilt, thinking to myself it was my fault. I was the only one who caused this terrible thing to happen to me. I walked back to my friends house and showered. My friend was pissed I was out all night, assuming I just partied my way through the night, not caring to come back to his place. I didn't tell him what happened. I was so fucking ashamed.

It was years later that I started to even think about it again. I thought about how I was completely out for such a long time and how even when I came to, I was out again. I thought about how I wasn't hungover, but disoriented. This put the possibility of being drugged into my head. I was taken advantage of. Even if I was simply drunk, I was obviously not coherent to give my permission for sex. Nor would I have done so if I wasn't drunk. These were not the type of guys I was attracted to. I've done dumb things while drunk, but I was always in control of myself. This was nothing I allowed. I was raped. And by the looks of things, it wasn't just one time. I don't even know how many people raped me. I don't know if that other man took part or if it happened later. Not knowing is terrifying, but maybe knowing what happened would be worse.

I wish things were different. I can't go back and say "I wish I didn't go back with them" because I had. I don't want to waste any of my life thinking of that. I wouldn't want to give this man (or men) any more of me. Fuck them. They don't deserve it. But what I will say is I wish the stigma of rape was different. I'm a strong woman and I thought if this ever happened - hell yeah I would put whomever did it in jail. But facing it, I blamed myself for too many years. By the time I came to the conclusion this wasn't my fault, it was too late to do anything legally. I have no idea who these men were, where they lived or anything about it. So that's my only regret. The regret that these men aren't spending years in prison, enduring what I had to endure. Rape.