LJ Idol Week 2: My Mount Rushmore (of regrets)

[flipflop_diva]

It was more than ten years ago now, but it’s a night that looms over me like it was just yesterday. So many details still so vivid. The night of my biggest regret. The night I try to pretend never happened. But yet it did.

I remember being so happy that our biggest work convention of the year was finished. I remember feeling relieved and excited. I remember standing around talking about going out to celebrate.

I remember getting into a cab with three other people I knew from work. I’d been at my job for just eight months, but we worked from home. This was the first time I had met all three of them. But they were nice. And cool. And it seemed like we could be friends.

I remember getting to the club that was way fancier than any club I had ever been to before. I usually went to bars on shady side streets that had good beer on tap. But this had velvet-covered booths and little tables and bottle service with waiters and waitresses in black suits.

I remember one of the guys ordering bottle service, and I remember the trays with the bottles of vodka arriving.

I don’t remember what I’d had for dinner before getting in the cab. I don’t remember if I had dinner. I do remember doing shots at the club, and I remember refilling those shots, and I remember laughing and talking.

I don’t remember what happened next. I have no idea how much time passed that I don’t remember, but I know it was a lot. Hours.

What I do remember is throwing up into an empty bottle as a speaker overhead announced it was closing time. I remember the other girl in the group leading me to the bathroom and holding back my hair as I threw up again and telling me it would be okay. I remember being dizzy and loopy and feeling so ashamed that I was so drunk.

I remember being outside on the sidewalk in the cool night air, and I remember getting into a cab with one of the guys because we were at the same hotel. I remember his fingers inside my underwear as the cab driver took us back to the hotel, and I remember hoping the driver didn’t notice.

I remember not really wanting it, but I remember not saying anything because some part of me liked the attention. I remember being young and inexperienced. I remember being the plain looking one in my group of friends in college and being the one who never had a boyfriend and who wasn’t entirely comfortable with sex. I remember thinking maybe this is what I had been missing.

I don’t remember arriving back at the hotel, but I remember him going with me to my room. I remember going inside and getting in bed. I remember him taking my clothes off. I remember him inside me, and then him telling me to turn on my stomach and him slipping inside me again from behind.

I remember lying there and thinking this was wrong but not stopping it either.

I don’t remember him leaving, but I remember waking up in the morning with regret hanging over me like a wet jacket. I remember waiting till my roommate — a roommate who I desperately hoped hadn’t heard what happened the night before — got up and went into the bathroom before I found my pajamas and slipped into them, finding my clothes that were tangled in the sheets and putting them in my suitcase like they had been there all along. I remember my roommate coming out of the bathroom and me saying good morning like nothing was wrong and nothing had happened.

I remember going downstairs for breakfast with my roommate and seeing the guy at the table with everyone else. I remember greeting him like nothing had happened while regret settled in the pit of my stomach.

I remember then when it all got worse. I remember him picking up his phone and showing us a photo of his daughter. And his wife.

And I remember the guilt, and how it rushed in, as I felt like I was struggling to breathe.

He was married. I hadn’t known he was married. There had never been any mention that he was married. But he was married. And he had a daughter.

I had had sex with a married man. I cheated. I helped someone cheat.

I remember wanting to throw up. Instead I ordered breakfast and tried to eat and pretended nothing had happened.

I remember saying goodbye to everyone and even giving him a hug.

I remember going back to my room and packing and then heading out to go to the airport to fly home.

I remember he texted me later. “Had a great time!” I remember not knowing what to do, so I texted back, “Me too!” and hoped he never mentioned it again.

I remember flying home that day, the memories of what happened swirling in my mind. Guilt and regret and shame all mingled together. I never told anyone what happened. Not my family. Not my friends. I tried not to tell myself, but sometimes, the regret would loom there in my mind, like a mountain that is never out of sight but sometimes just covered up by the fog.

The biggest regret of my life, carved into stone, always watching me.

Regret. Shame. Guilt.

A world of maybes to go with it.

Maybe I shouldn’t have drank so much. Maybe I should have said no. Maybe I should have known he was married. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone out at all.

Maybe.

Maybe.

Maybe.

Maybe it wasn’t my fault.

That one is new, ten years of hindsight and a different world that we live in later.

Maybe it wasn’t my fault.

Maybe someday I’ll really believe that.







Thank you for reading! This was written for Week 2 of the therealljidol. If you would like to vote, or read the other entries, the poll should be up Sunday afternoon!

Comments

[adoptedwriter]

Hugs...Beautifully written...

[the_eternal_overthinker]

*Hugs* "I remember being young and inexperienced. I remember being the plain looking one in my group of friends in college and being the one who never had a boyfriend and who wasn’t entirely comfortable with sex." I could relate to that.
And I hope writing this will help you overcome the guilt because it really wasn't your fault.

Well written.

[fausts_dream]

You were in no condition to consent. That is rape, the fact that some people try to pretend that drawn in neon highlighter line is somehow murky is a testament to the guilt and evil sometimes present in my gender and reflects on you not at all.

[rayaso]

I wish you had no regrets about this awful situation. You were drunk and a man took advantage of that. There's nothing wrong with getting drunk. There's everything wrong with what he did. You did not consent, and you had no way of knowing the sleazeball was married and had children. You wrote that you cheated. No you didn't. Only he did.

[bewize]

He was the only cheater in this story.

I'm sorry you're still struggling with that guilt - you don't own it. I hope this lets you set it down.

[halfshellvenus]

Oh, what an awful experience. :(

Not only did the guy take advantage of you, but he cheated on his wife in doing so. He went out of his way to be sleazy on multiple fronts.

I'm so sorry you went through this.

[megatronix]

I'm so sorry. You did nothing wrong. You weren't in a position to consent, or think clearly at all. He assaulted you, and I'm sorry that happened. I'm glad that you're getting it out, and that the new cultural atmosphere of more and more women speaking out about assaults they've endured has created space for you to think maybe it's not your fault, because truly: It's not your fault. AT ALL. And I hope you're able to believe it, too. <3

[dmousey]

Let go of the guilt. What happened wasn't your fault. Your Co-worker was a predator on the look out for an impaired woman. Any decent person would've known you were in not shape to fully understand/consent to what was happening.This makes me angry. **hugs** ✌😊~~~d

[encrefloue]

I can only repeat what others have said, that you could not consent and were in no way at fault. Thank you for your bravery in sharing this; I hope it helps to ease and eventually remove the burden that was unrightly imposed upon you.

[daisysparrow]

It was NOT your fault! Just his! <3

[murielle]

This is beautiful and heartbreaking. I'm so sorry this happened to you. *Hugs*

[favoritebean_writes]

Oh wow! This reads just like a true "Me Too" experience so many have shared over the past year. That guy took advantage of inebriation, which is definitely not a substitute for consent.

If this is non-fiction, I'm truly sorry that it happened to you. You shouldn't blame yourself. If it's fiction, you really nailed what so many have shared.

Either way, it's a devastating story.

[bleodswean]

So much sadness, terror, regret, rage and BRAVERY in this piece of writing. You've done a superb job of capturing all of the complex and terrible emotions. It was a very difficult read, so I cannot imagine the pain of writing it.

[brkfastatholly.livejournal.com]

Oooof, this one really hit me hard. It's heartbreaking and yet beautifully written. The line, "regret hanging over me like a wet jacket" is so incredible and it's going to be stuck in my head for a long while. <33