24 Mar I Didn’t Remember. But Then I Did.
After getting out of a year-long, verbally abusive relationship, I decided to download Tinder (pre-Covid) when I returned to college at MTSU. It was fun at first. I was meeting wonderful people and having fun, with nothing serious expected on either end. It was nice to find what I looked for in another person, train to be able to catch red flags more quickly and just meet others.
It was also at this stage in my life I began to party more, as I didn’t have a boyfriend anymore who would tell me that he would break up with me if I went out. Due to this, I started drinking strong, clear liquor. It would run through me, and I had a habit of blacking out. But nothing went wrong as I would be with friends and they would just put me to bed.
One day, I met this man on Tinder. We’ll call him Xavier. He was a bit older than me, but totally my type, so I was dying to go out with him. We went on a date, and it was fun. We went to the park, got ice cream and laughed. He was nice, caring and a really great cook.
A week or so after our first date, I got blackout drunk at a friend’s apartment. The next morning, I woke up at Xavier’s apartment, in his bed. Moments after, he came to me with a plate filled with delicious breakfast foods. As I ate, I asked him how I got here and what happened?
He told me that I asked him to come to pick me up from my friend’s apartment. He said my friend had to carry my down the stairs to Xavier’s car because I was too drunk to walk. So then he drove me to his place, made me drink water and fixed me a snack and let me sleep.
I smiled, happy that he took care of me and nothing went wrong.
A few days after, I began to remember snippets of my blackout. I texted my friend to confirm if I actually broke her cup, to which she replied ‘yes’ and we laughed about it.
I kept remembering more. Eventually, I remembered bits and pieces of arriving at Xavier’s house. I remembered him helping me up the stairs.
I remembered him placing me in his bed.
Then I remembered him pulling down my skirt while I managed to squeak out “No” a few times. That’s all I remembered.
After that, I ceased contact with him. Ghosted him, if you will. He started blowing up my phone asking why I wasn’t texting him back, if I was cheating on him because he thought we were in an exclusive relationship (Which I said nothing of the sort as I had only known him for like 2 or so weeks at that point.)
I never spoke to him again, because I remembered he raped me. But there was nothing I could do about it. I didn’t remember in time to get a kit. I was drunk, so it would end up being his word against mine. I knew how that would go in Tennessee. There was nothing I could do. That’s the worst part. I couldn’t, I can’t do anything. He will never get justice for what he did to me. I will die angry with that thought, and with the moments of how he destroyed me.