Was it my fault?

It was my 30th birthday. I was/am a single mom who never parties. I made sure I had cab fare, I didn’t drive. I asked three friends to make sure I got home safely. And then, I got obliterated. When they piled me into the cab I was half-conscious. The first stop was a friend’s apartment. We had dated briefly the previous winter. We’d had sex, but it had been more than 6 months. He convinced my other friends to let me get out with him and stay at his place. He’d “take care of me”.

I remember stumbling up the stairs. I remember walking in his apartment and flopping fully clothed on top of his bed and then, I passed out.

When I woke up, he was having sex with me. It took me a minute or two to even know what was happening. In my mind, all I remember is the way the corner of the walls met the ceiling and I didn’t even know where I was. Then I realized what was happening. I said NO. He stopped. He said “I was dreaming we were having sex and when I woke up, we were”.

But, I was STILL asleep. In fact, I was intoxicated and unconscious. I never consented to even going to his home never mind the sex.

I got myself dressed, in a cab and home. The next day I felt awful but didn’t remember anything about the rape. I didn’t even think about it until weeks later when I got my period and a condom…HIS used condom, fell out of me! Then, it all came flooding back.
I told my therapist, and she said maybe it was a misunderstanding, I should talk to him.
NO I thought, this is rape. There was no misunderstanding.

I never spoke to him again, I never went back to therapy–to that therapist. The few people who know what happened ask me why I got so drunk. I guess, it was my “fault”.

Or, was it?

Tags: rape, wasted, women