My Life Is Full of #MeToo Moments
By: Maribel Martinez
Tags: Relationships, Empowerment, Metoo, Rape, Women

Photo by Andrew Neel on Unsplash

The Big/Pushed-Out-Of-My-Mind Event

I was 21 years old attending college in the United States when things got worse. My sister’s boyfriend and his cousin had come back to town after spending spring break in Florida. The cousin didn’t live in the same town we did and was just spending the night before driving home the next day. I had met him once before and he heavily tried to make a move on me. At that time I resisted.

All of us except my sister were 21 or older and wanted to go out to a local bar. We tried to sneak my sister but of course, our plan didn’t work. My sister and her boyfriend were headed back to the house and the cousin asked me if I wanted to stay for one drink. I said sure.

We walked in, sat at the bar, had a drink…and next thing I remember was waking up the next morning in my bedroom floor having sex with him. Then I passed out for a few hours.

When I finally got up my first thought was what the fuck happened! I didn’t remember leaving the bar, getting home, taking my clothes off, or ever agreeing to having sex with him. I didn’t remember saying yes or no. I asked him if he had used a condom and he said yes. He lied.

I looked around the house, looked inside every trash can and didn’t find anything. I confronted him about it and he said he had just been testing me to see if I was lying about not remembering anything about the night before.

Having sex with someone who is unconscious IS MOST DEFINITELY INAPPROPRIATE!

Fucking asshole!

Not only did he rape me while I was drunk and unconscious, didn’t use a condom, lied about it, but then accused me of lying about not remembering things. Was this supposed to be a memorable night for me? A night to remember?

The only explanation I have for what happened that night is that he put something in my drink.

I don’t think roofies were a thing back then, or I had never heard of them at that point. I didn’t yell at him or confronted him about anything. I just sat there very tired and confused trying to remember anything at all.

Whatever happened. It was rape. Simply said.

I didn’t go to the police or reported him in any way. I’ve only told this story to two people in my life. I’ve told my best friend and my boyfriend. I never told my exhusband.

Why have I kept this for so long? I always felt embarrassed about what happened because I always thought I should have known better.

I am an intelligent, independent, aware woman who fell victim to a bad situation. This asshole took advantage of me. Yet I blamed myself for getting into the bad situation to begin with.

A nd that is, unfortunately, a common thought among women who have gone through an experience similar to mine. We feel like it is our fault, that we should have known better.

It is our fault for trusting someone we think is a friend. It is our fault for dressing a certain way and “asking for it.” It is our fault for having one too many drinks, for having fun and enjoying ourselves. For getting into a bad situation. For allowing an asshole to take advantage of us and not kicking them in the balls fast enough. For not speaking up and not reporting them to the police.

It is our fault.