I received a text message from her the following night. It was 11:00pm and she was reminding me that she still had my shorts and t-shirt that I let her borrow. Did I want to go over to her place and pick them up?
"All Signs Point to Yes", Magic 8 Ball.
During my drive, I kept getting phone calls from Amber.
Amber: Where aaaaaaaaaaare you?
So@24: You just called me 10 minutes ago. I'm on my way.
Amber: Well hurry up and Tokyo drift your ass over here, boy!
Well then. She was indeed drunk. Very drunk.
When I arrived at the steps of Amber's apartment, I could already hear the cacophony that always accompanies booze-fueled gatherings.
Amber and her friends gave me a warm welcome, but I immediately knew I was out of place. Their jokes were crass and juvenile, there was a drunk dude slumped over, completely passed out. In a word, the whole scene was trashy.
Amber presented me a shot of rum and a tall can of Monster energy drink.
"Play catch up," she smiled.
I was not going to argue with that. I was definitely an uncomfortable stranger in an even stranger land. This was solidified when the hooded drunkard suddenly popped up, grabbed the car keys and ran out the door. Amber's friend took off after him saying, "He's going to drive drunk again. I hate when he does this shit."
And then... we were alone.
What the fuck was I doing here?
Amber and I both took a few more shots and I found myself in the middle of a second make out session.
It got a little more heated this time, but again... my instinct was telling me that something was off here. And no, it was not a matter of me trying to force my mitts in places and her having to push me away. It was completely based off that feeling you get.
When she traced her finger along the waistband of my boxers shorts, I almost melted on the spot (let's go ahead throw that up there to the recently-growing list of "things I miss about girls").
But she stopped there.
My mind was racing. I know I've been out of the game for quite sometime now, but something wasn't adding up. With a pinch of frustration and a giant dollop of confusion, I rolled over and let the remaining rum in my system put me to sleep.
* * *
The next morning, I threw on my wrinkled jeans and wrapped my watch around my wrist. Like the night before, the conversation and atmosphere wasn't at all awkward or uncomfortable. As I was stepping over her giant mounds of clothes, I caught a glimpse of her creamsicle colored vibrator. "What the...? What is this girl's deal..."
I gave Amber a hug, thanked her for the drinks and was about to step out the door when she asked, "Could you take a seat?"
So@24: Uh... sure.
Amber: I just wanted to explain about the last couple of nights. I have a problem with intimacy because I was raped last year.
I instantly broke out into a cold sweat. My combined time of hanging out with Amber was less than 48 hours; I didn't know anything about her. I had absolutely NO idea what to say.
So@24: Hey, you don't need to explain anything to me. I had a good time.
Amber: I usually don't mention it. Guys just think I don't like them, but I didn't want you to think it was you.
I was completely caught off guard, I didn't know if what I said came off well or if I even said the right things. What are you supposed to say? I've never known anyone personally who has gone through such a traumatic experience.
My brain was going a mile a minute during my long drive home. This was something I naively never thought I would encounter when I reemerged in the dating world. Never even crossed my mind. Statistics show 1 in 6 women will be sexually assaulted in her lifetime. It's a very ugly reality, but... it happens more than people (including me) realize.
After a physical recovery, Amber is still a twentysomething woman who deserves to be able to date and have sex. And to have that taken away from her is incredibly sad.
As someone who has a lot of good girl friends, it's heavy stuff to think about, but all the more reason to acknowledge it.
Dating. Fuck. You have to be prepared for that occasional knuckle ball.
The next morning, I threw on my wrinkled jeans and wrapped my watch around my wrist. Like the night before, the conversation and atmosphere wasn't at all awkward or uncomfortable. As I was stepping over her giant mounds of clothes, I caught a glimpse of her creamsicle colored vibrator. "What the...? What is this girl's deal..."
I gave Amber a hug, thanked her for the drinks and was about to step out the door when she asked, "Could you take a seat?"
So@24: Uh... sure.
Amber: I just wanted to explain about the last couple of nights. I have a problem with intimacy because I was raped last year.
I instantly broke out into a cold sweat. My combined time of hanging out with Amber was less than 48 hours; I didn't know anything about her. I had absolutely NO idea what to say.
So@24: Hey, you don't need to explain anything to me. I had a good time.
Amber: I usually don't mention it. Guys just think I don't like them, but I didn't want you to think it was you.
I was completely caught off guard, I didn't know if what I said came off well or if I even said the right things. What are you supposed to say? I've never known anyone personally who has gone through such a traumatic experience.
My brain was going a mile a minute during my long drive home. This was something I naively never thought I would encounter when I reemerged in the dating world. Never even crossed my mind. Statistics show 1 in 6 women will be sexually assaulted in her lifetime. It's a very ugly reality, but... it happens more than people (including me) realize.
After a physical recovery, Amber is still a twentysomething woman who deserves to be able to date and have sex. And to have that taken away from her is incredibly sad.
As someone who has a lot of good girl friends, it's heavy stuff to think about, but all the more reason to acknowledge it.
Dating. Fuck. You have to be prepared for that occasional knuckle ball.
