In my second year of teaching, I met a married couple and the three of us hit it off. They were fun, I was fun. We went back to their place - I forget why exactly (I forget a lot about that night). They poured me a glass of wine - along with something extra. They proceeded to rape me as a couple. He raped me anally. I recall only bits and pieces. I have flashes of the night. I remember him turning to her and asking her permission to rape me anally. "Can I?" I remember waking up naked and completely confused in their guest room. I couldn't find my clothes, I didn't know where I was in their house, I didn't know how to get out of there. I woke up feeling more drunk than I'd ever felt in life. I made my way out of there, but not without great difficulty, not without being stopped by him and made to go in and kiss her goodbye. I was unclear as to all that had happened, I was in more headache pain than I'd ever been in, and I was completely shaken and guilt-riddled. It wasn't until a year later when I told my now-husband the story and he told me I had been raped that I finally admitted that to myself. Until that time, I felt so guilty and stupid for having put myself in that position. I still struggle with this, but telling it here is yet another step in that healing process for me.This is my story. I was raped. And it wasn't my fault.
