It was in April, around the 19th, that I’m sure of. And it was after the Loma Prieta/World Series Earthquake. So it was likely in 91 when we’d been together, my partner/now my spouse, and I were together for 12 years that summer.
I suppose it began a few months before, and this is another reason I’ve never reported this and hardly spoken to anyone about it.
A man whose last name I cannot remember, whose first name was John, met my partner through some pagan friends. He said he was pagan, a Wiccan, like we were, in fact. He said a lot about himself, especially whenever someone mentioned something that had happened to them, or that was going on with them, or some medical condition they had, John would jump into the conversation and basically say that happened or was going on with him. It didn’t seem to matter what the event or condition was, he staked a claim to it.
It was almost funny, because in this way he claimed to be diabetic, as some of our friends were, to be losing his hearing, as some of our friends were, to have been abused as a child, to having alcoholic parents, to have seizures as some of our friends had, and a laundry list of other problems and troubles. The one thing John couldn’t stake a claim to was he hadn’t and he never could become pregnant. And that was probably a good thing because as I recall, John was surprisingly promiscuous considering this was when the HIV epidemic was still taking many lives.
John did get at least one woman I knew pregnant. At least that’s the way guys talked back then: HE got her pregnant, or she was carrying HIS baby and so forth and so on really kind of medieval when you think about it. That was another point in this matter: John said he was a Wiccan, and to me and most of my friends that usually meant a level of respect for the Feminine Principle as some called it, or for the Divine Feminine, and by association, for mortal women, especially when those mortal women were Wiccans. He couldn’t fake that, and he tried. He had zero respect for women and if nothing else had happened I would have known that because as noted above he ‘played around’ while having a live-in ‘girlfriend’.
He also claimed he’d been divorced, as some of our friends had been. He claimed he wore soft shoes; TOMs I guess because of those seizures. He claimed he was always broke, too. And that I believe because he was always sponging off the rest of us, those who believed he was a friend just going through a tough time. He ate what other people paid for, fast food, regular meals, you name it, John would eat it and never gained a pound, either.
Which reminds me: John also claimed to be constantly, very attracted to what we were called ‘women of substance’ in those days. Heavy women, was another older term, and nowadays we’re just fat. And nowadays we’re not sitting back and taking body shaming, either.
If you’re getting the idea that John was a chronic user and a pathological liar, you’re right on point now.
So, to get closer to the whole point here: For several months prior to that April evening, I was ‘necking’ with John, indulging in foreplay and nothing further, on several occasions. I was frankly curious and stupid. I was astonishingly inexperienced when you consider that I was forty that year. So, that happened, how many times I can’t now remember.
But that’s one of my biggest reasons for not reporting what happened in April. How could I tell anyone, including cops or lawyers or court officials that there had been this activity going on and that it never once went past foreplay? Why would they believe that? Why would they believe I did NOT want any more of that after a certain point and had NEVER wanted anything else or anything more from him? Why should they?
So, one evening in April I needed to go to the grocery. So he gave me a ride there and back. I should have walked, I know. And we got back and the first thing I wanted was a soda, and for some reason, the soda I’d bought was in the larger bottles and so got poured into glasses, one for me, one for him. No big, right?
Well, I was sitting and then I got tired and laid back on the daybed we used for a sofa at that time. And John was all about how he wanted to ‘sleep with me’. And I would have said no, nope, get the hell out of here, except, I was too groggy and couldn’t move very well and was slurring my speech. And he said he really needed or wanted [no don’t remember everything] to have sex. And I was not with the program, at all. And he was joking, I thought because he knew I was a lesbian with a partner of nearly 12 years by then.
But he wasn’t joking and he started working at my pants, jeans, I think, so it took longer than plain stretch pants. And I was feeling drunk, although as far as I knew I’d had nothing but half a glass of soda. So I didn’t know what to think, and couldn’t think that clearly and I’m pretty sure I still thought he was joking. So I joked back and this is another of the BIG reasons I have never reported this: I joked back and said, well, if you are really going to do ‘that’, you need to put on a ‘raincoat’… meaning a condom.
And he might have done that, I have no idea. I have no idea what he did except that before I knew it he was on top of me and had my pants off and was pushing into me. And what I will NEVER forget is that ‘it’ felt like a frozen carrot being shoved into me. And that I couldn’t move at all. And that I could hardly talk or think clearly at all by that point.
And as a final blow, as it were, he left a condom, a used condom on the table next to the daybed. Probably one of the grossest things I’d ever seen at that point. And I threw it away before anyone else could see it. And that’s destroying evidence. Yeah, I kinda know that.
When my partner came in and we began to talk, she was the one who realized he must have doped me. Ruffies they were called then, were drugs men used to dope a woman’s drink so they could rape her and she wouldn’t entirely remember. It was quite a thing then and only then beginning to be seen as wrong, at least by women and some law enforcement people.
Well, I thought for about three minutes about calling the cops. I started and then realized I wouldn’t make a very credible witness. And it was the next morning and I had no evidence to give them. So I hung up. And we changed the locks on the doors to the house we lived in, my partner and I without any other housemates at that time.
And here are the two count ‘em two kickers:
First, when he found out he couldn’t get into the house anymore, John called and asked why we did that. And I told him why and he denied it, of course, he denied it.
And then we called the woman he was living with and she didn’t believe he did that. And that was almost funny because a lot of people knew he played around, a lot.
All this happened in April 1991, so that was 27 years ago, 27 and a half years ago. And I’ve never told all of this to anyone. And I never reported it. And that’s what happened and that’s why I never reported it. #believe survivors