“I’m in the same boat. The only reason I believe I used protection last night is because I saw condom wrappers in the bedroom. Let’s just be grateful that we’re still alive and get on with our lives.”
Michelle’s body jumped as she pivoted to face me and she gasped, “We acted very irresponsibly last night! How could we have just come back to a hotel with men we didn’t even know? How could we have drank so much?”
“Michelle!” I trilled while holding my head. My screams caused my head to throb and I grabbed it again in my hands reducing my tone to a whisper. “Think about it! Am I that much of a drinker?”
She answered very child-like, “No.”
“Do you get wasted in public without forewarning?” I continued with my line of questioning.
“No.” Her lips extended in a pout.
“Well then it’s obvious to me that somebody slipped us a fucking mickey!”
She began to cry again. Her high-pitched voice made my head pound even more. I pulled her up and walked her to the living room where it appeared she spent that night. Michelle took her time gathering her things. As she dressed, I went to the next room and began to dress myself. When I picked up my purse to look inside for something to balm my chapped lips Michelle barged in yelling, “Na-Na, all of my cash is gone!”
I rummaged through my purse for my wallet. Sure enough, my wallet had been emptied. No cash.
“Damn it!” I screamed and nearly collapsed from the pain.
We left the hotel in search of Michelle’s car. In staggering pain and with aching limbs, we split up to look in the parking lot. Eventually we left the parking lot and began to look on the streets near the building. Nothing. I used my cell to call information for a cab.
Michelle began freaking out. “Oh my god Na-Na, my car is brand new. What if they stole that, too?”
I swear it was during times like this when I remembered Michelle was white, or at least part white. She was so hysterical and focused too heavily on the obvious. Maybe because my head was pounding and my stomach was doing flips that I couldn’t begin to feel sorry for myself. I needed to plan for our escape and recovery. I just wanted to get home to lie down. I’d never felt so horrible. We ended up catching a cab to the club. Thank goodness the car was there in the lot with spare cash inside because it would’ve been an expensive trip all the way to Glendale.
Later that day I felt so horrible that it forced me to go to the emergency room. The doctor confirmed my worse fear. I was drugged. She described the latest date rape drug on the market that wasn’t as lethal as its predecessor Ruffin or clinically, Burundanga, the traditional date rape drug. This pill, called The Easy on the street, was more forgiving because the side effects weren’t as horrendous and severe as the traditional intoxicant. So my rapist had a heart? Whatever!
She performed a rape kit and I filed a report. Before I left, the doctor gave me a slew of pamphlets on date rape and counseling agencies. The last thing she said was to realize that I was unsure of the number of times my predator had sex with me last night. Although I saw two condom wrappings, I really didn’t know for a fact how many times we’d had sex nor if he used a condom each time and that if I were to become pregnant and was faced with the decision of what to do some of the brochures included information on what my options were. By the time I got home, I was absolutely exhausted.
Michelle decided against getting anything done. The police officer encouraged her to be tested and file a report as well. She declined saying the only reason she was there was because I was too sick to drive myself.
Michelle never spoke about that evening much for a while. I think she felt that acknowledging it she somehow believed she cheated on Mark, which was incredibly ridiculous because she was victimized. She didn’t consent to shit. Also, they had broken up right after Christmas.