Honesty, And Pain

This is something I've often wondered if I should tell you. It's a story of hurt. My hurt. I've wondered if I should tell this tale, if only because it's so personal. And yet, it's not, because it's not something I did. It's something that was done to me. I might still take it down after a bit. But after today, I have to talk about it.

Today I saw someone that I never wanted to see again. In fact, I was hoping that this person was either dead, or far, far away from this town.

Years ago, I had a friend. A good friend. He and I hung out often, ate out, went out, just had a good time together. Over the months/years, we saw shows, we talked, we enjoyed each other's company. He was my savior when I started a new job. I later helped him get a job where I worked. It was still good.

I thought he respected me. I know I thought he was fun. I did know, though, that he was more into me than I was to him. Still, it worked OK.

After he left his job where I worked, we stayed in touch. At my old company, we had an annual holiday party. It's more fun when you invite a date, so I invited him. Suits, dresses, open bar, what could be better?

Now, I know my alcohol limits. It was funny, though, early in the evening, I was feeling very drunk. When he said that we should go upstairs for a bit, I was OK with that. I trusted him.

This, I think, was about 11pm. I came to around 4am, and asked him if we should go back to the party. He pointed out the time, and I agreed. I went back to sleep.

I awoke again around 9 or 10. We packed up our things and decided to get breakfast. At the time, he made an aside comment. "I would have done you with your boots on, but you were wearing hose." I didn't really think much of it at the time. I was woozy and thought that maybe I had had too much to drink. I let him take me out for lunch. I could barely eat, my stomach felt bad, and all I wanted to do was to go back to bed.

After that feeling, I knew I wanted to be away from him, but I didn't know why. So, after eating very little, I left, and I called my best friend. I lived with my folks at the time and just couldn't manage that. I asked if I could come over, so I went over there and stayed with her. I pretty much passed out on her couch until about 8:30pm. I then decided to go home.

On the way home, it hit me. It hit me. The things he had said, the way I felt...he raped me! The friend had raped me! It hit me so hard that I called my best friend. I told her what happened. Then I had to go home, and hide it.

There's more to this story, more information, more ways that I got hurt. But suffice to say that I saw this motherfucker at the gas station today. And that's got me all sorts of confused, angry, amazed, and really, mostly, pure, unadulterated rage.