There are so many aspects of my life I’m deeply I am deeply happy about.
I’m gay, in my 20’s and I have something I need to share but I have no friends close enough.
A few years ago, the love of my life broke up with me. I entered into a downward spiral of sadness. Where I’d drink constantly to numb the pain. I’d Party, HARD.
My friends had left, I’d found myself alone, but I didn’t care. I carried on partying. That’s all people like about me, even my friends. I’m fun to party and get drunk with.
A group of men surrounded me in the club, supplying me with drinks. I was flattered I kept drinking and drinking. Later on, I don’t know how but I found myself alone with one of them as the club closed. I asked to be taken home. The taxi stopped, but it wasn’t home. It was his house.
He took my arm and brought me inside. It’s all a blur, it’s all dizzy. I said “no”, I said “we’ll do anything but THAT”, I said No, more and more but it didn’t mean anything to him. It wasn’t violent, it wasn’t time consuming. I didn’t move or well, couldn’t move. I didn’t fight, and he didn’t fight me but for some reason I just stayed there. I hate myself for that.
Could you even call it the “R” word? I don’t know. The worst part was he was “gracious” enough to call me a cab home. No, that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part is he handed me money … as if I WANTED it, or as if it would compensate for what happened. I was still, well, shocked. I took it, I don’t know why. But it just made me feel disgusting, dirty.
I never thought much into it. I tried to forget about it the next day but it’s something that keeps popping up.