Drinking to forget

Well the last two days have been interesting. Interesting in a horrifyingly bad way.

Tuesday I had a text from A, with one word - "Sex?".

Two years ago I was living next door to A in our student block of flats.  We were good friends, I was dating his housemate and massively in love with him.  His housemate went home for the week to visit his parents, and me A and all our friends went out for the night.

It was a sluts and vicars party, and I was wearing a baby doll with a strappy shirt under it and a short skirt over it.  I feel what I was wearing was important, as how modestly you're dressed always seems to affect people's opinions of you afterwards.  I wasn't modestly dressed.  I wasn't incredibly sluttly dressed either, as all the parts of you that should be covered, where covered.  But it's not an outfit I'd wear to the shops - or ever wear again.

So we were both at this party and I'd had rather a  lot to drink. I was a second year student at Uni - we'd ALL had a lot to drink.  A included.

The party ended and we all walked home together, as A and I lived next door to eachother in our shared flats we obviously walked home together with the rest of his housemates.  I got to my door, said good night to them all and walked in.  I didn't notice A walk in behind me.

It was only when I was unlocking my bedroom door (which was less than a foot from the front door) that I realised he was still standing next to me.

I remember at the time I thought it was a tiny bit odd, as he'd never come back to my flat before - I always hung out at his flat.  But perhaps he just wanted to chat a little bit longer.  (I realise in my head I'm still questioning every decision I made that night - clothes, drinking, allowing him in - perhaps I gave implicit consent?)

So I let him into my bedroom and we sat chatting for a bit.  I was knackered and just wanted to go to sleep though, but he wasn't taking any hints for leaving.  I remember it was a Thursday night as I had early morning labs the next day (Friday is lab day) so I genuinely just wanted him to leave and I could go to sleep.

This was my biggest mistake of the night I think.

I was so tired and wanted to go to bed so badly, that after he didn't take the yawning hints I told him he could stay, but absolutely nothing was happening.

We'd shared a bed before and it had been purely platonic, so I wasn't worried.  Hell I've crashed in most people's beds and a lot of people had crashed in mine.  It was honestly a normal thing that was happening.

So he stayed and I got into bed (still in my dress).

Just to point out though, AGAIN,  I was still massively in love with housemate (and still am) so I never knowingly led him on.

Well he started kissing me in the bed, and again I said I don't want anything to happen here.  I don't want to have sex with you, I really like (housemate's name).  I definitely said no more than once.

This bit is burnt into my memory.

He said, "don't worry we won't have sex."

Then he climbed on top of me, actually pinning me down with his body weight, pushed my knickers to the side and put it in me anyway.

I froze.  *Mistake number 2*

I'd told him repeatedly that I didn't want to have sex with him, he was my friend, but yet he was doing it anyway.  His housemate was going to freak out when he found out.  Hell I was freaking out.  And it hurt SO badly.  Like, it was the worst pain I've ever been through.  I wasn't wet at all *tmi, sorry* and it just felt like I was tearing.

I finally pushed him off me, I think he'd been going at it for about 5 minutes whilst I was freaking out in my head, and I said - "What the fuck, A I TOLD you I didn't want to have sex with you."  He replied:  "Well it's too late now, we already have".  Our conversation is burnt in my memory, even now 2 yrs later.

I told him to get the fuck out of my flat, and thank god he did.  I heard his flat door slam from mine.

And I just started crying, I jumped straight into the shower (I think it was 3 or 4 am) and had the longest hottest shower I could stand.  I just wanted to wash him entirely off me.

And then I fell asleep, missed my labs the next morning, and spent the next week bleeding.  Not period blood, just ripped skin blood.

And here is where I made mistake number 3.  For a very very long time I blamed myself for what happened.  I was dressed inappropriately, I had too much to drink, I told him he could stay the night, I didn't physically fight him off I just froze.  So I covered for him.  Yup, that's right, I went along with what he was saying and never told anybody.

Well, I told Leigh that I'd kicked him out of my room because I knew it was a mistake.  (Half the story I suppose) but he told everybody that we'd slept together and he'd left because I was crap.

What was I supposed to say?  Oh yeah, that lovely guy you all know, the guy I love - his best friend, yeah he raped me.

It seemed like such a massive word, and it was just going to be my story against his.  And we all know how rape stories go - the victim gets blamed.  And of course now it's too late because I've stuck to his story for the past two years.  I've pretended to be friends with him and that I don't remember what happened.  A and I have never spoken about it, and I genuinely don't know if he remembers what happened that night, or if he was too drunk?

But not so drunk he couldn't have sex, right?

I realise I'm making excuses for him, but it's easier than facing up to the truth.  And the truth is that that night I became a victim, and ofcourse his housemate found out we slept together and it ruined everything between us too.  So I lost him as well.

Isn't life amazing?

Well, anyway, on Tuesday he text me "Sex?"  I text back telling him to fuck off.  But damage was done.  Apparently it was his friends messing around on his phone, just texting randomers - as A now has a girlfriend.

But I had flashbacks that night.  Awful flashbacks and got next to no sleep.  Woke up screaming.

So spent Wednesday getting obliteratedly drunk, so that I wouldn't have nightmares again.

I mentioned to my mother that I'd had nightmares to do with - that guy I told you about.  (She's the only person I've told)  and she just changed the subject.  Thanks mum, woulda been nice to be reassured a little y'know.  I don't think my mum actually believes me tbh.

But it happened.  I wasn't so drunk that I can't remember what happened!  But it appears I didn't have enough of a backbone to stand up for myself afterwards.

Last night I almost told my housemate this year what happened, whilst I was drunk.  I feel as though the story is bubbling to the surface and it's only a matter of time before I tell someone.  I just want to know that there's someone out there who believes me, and that it's not all in my head.

So yeah, I'm rather hungover today.

Wish I knew how to block the bastard from texting me.