Later that day, I called my friend, mentioned that I didn’t remember heading upstairs, and asked, embarrassed, if anything had “happened.” “We kissed,” he reassured me. ” The boy said he’d slipped a hydrocodone pill into mine, then led me upstairs.“Nothing else.” Roughly two weeks later, I was driving the same friend home from a party outside of town. He was incredulous I hadn’t figured it out, and had a hint of pride in his voice. I asked him how this was possible, if I was unconscious, and he said, “I did it to you.” I pulled over, to the side of the dirt road, and told him to get out, happy to leave him among the chollas and scrubby piñon trees.It was the first time they’d let us stay alone overnight, after much pleading and cajoling on my part.I hadn’t been expecting my friend, who stood there, at least two inches shorter than my five feet two inches, sweaty under his plaid newsboy cap from his moped ride up to my house.Nevermind that I don’t know what really happened that night and likely never will.
I told him what happened, skating around the worst parts by saying as little as possible. He quizzed me about how much I’d had to drink and offered platitudes about the dangers of alcohol.
In 2015, it would be unthinkable for colleges and universities to welcome new freshman without sexual assault workshops alongside awkward ice-breaker name games at orientation.
And teenagers, at least the ones I know, are capable of discussing date rape frankly, without euphemisms. Before I told my parents I went to an old teacher of mine and confessed everything.
When it happened to me — nobody, not my parents, not my therapist, not my best friends (and certainly not me) — knew how to react.
We fumbled in the aftermath: I struggled against denial, no one mentioned calling the police; we barely even used the word rape to describe what happened.
We rehashed elaborate inside jokes that drew on years of shared history — one was a rude song we’d made up about an old classmate, set to the tune of “Oh My Darling, Clementine.” The boy and I had been friends for a third of our lives, strictly platonic.