Shame, Shame, I know your name
Today, the Demystifying Divas and The Men's Club are supposed to be tackling our most shameful relationship moments. Personally, I am ashamed of the whole fiasco surrounding one of my college breakups. Here's the gist...
I was nearly raped my freshman year of college by an ex-boyfriend. He was also the frat brother of my then current boyfriend. After some initial hysteria (3 days), I finally told the boyfriend of the near rape. Whereupon he intimated that perhaps it had been my fault.
I didn't take that very well. But, I was still pretty emotionally fragile, so I took it.
A couple of months later, boyfriend is planning the rest of our life together. I may have still been skittish, but something tells me that this guy deciding the rest of our lives without my input irked me more than he suspected. But, Christmas break was coming up and I didn't want to break up with him right at the holiday, so I pushed it off.
Then, I went home for Christmas and caught my stepfather cheating on my mom. In a classic reaction, we then played "Shoot the Messenger" and I was again emotionally wrecked. I went to this New Year's Eve Party and got really stinking drunk. I'm talking tequila shooters and everclear. I was too upset to be drinking. And the alcohol didn't help matters.
That night will live in infamy in the history of my life because of the confluence of events. My first love and would-be rapist showed up at the party with the girl he cheated on me with (the same one he swore wasn't interested in him in "that way" and was "just a friend") and nobody knew what he had tried to do, the soon-to-be-exboyfriend with the grand plans for our life together decided to surprise me at the party, and I had just caught the stepfather in flagrante delicto. I was walking through an emotional field of landmines. Did I mention that alcohol made me unsteady on my feet?
I puked a lot. In an act of drunken defiance I completely ignored the boyfriend who was telling people we were all-but engaged, and then passed out between my two guy friends (there was no hanky-panky) so that I would feel safe and secure in a place where I knew a rapist was running around. Those guys made sure nothing bad happened to me, except for the horrendous hangover the next day. And I didn't even lose my pearls. Of course, I don't remember a whole lot about that evening...
Of course, I had behaved childishly to the boyfriend. I am ashamed of my behavior, of course. This shame is mitigated largely by the fact that he turned out to be a stalking psychopath, but that's another story.
The Divas and Gents are currently in disarray, but they may post on this topic if they get the chance.
