Reading rosyxxx's journal

Something is telling me not to write this post, at the same time that something is telling me to write it. Suffice it to say, this isn't just for me....but it's been something I've been struggling with for a bit here recently. If you could all just take this post at 'face value', as if you didn't even know me, I'd appreciate it.

There is a bad beginning, and a good ending. But let me preface this by saying that what I did to avert the situation, might not always work. Sometimes, there is no way to avoid it.

Here my story begins:

I met a guy, on the elevator, in my building. I've lived here since 1996, and I rarely talk to people on the elevator; it's just not something you do in St. Louis. But this guy, was so sweet (it seemed), rubbing his hands from the cold, and vocalizing how cold it was... I was intrigued, not realizing that I was getting pulled in by the 'charisma'. I asked his name. It was the name of one of my favorite authors, and I said so. He responded that he had read said author.

Too make a long story short, I missed my floor. We exchanged numbers. I was shaky about calling back, because I had taken a vow, in relation to my meditation practice, not to have sex for a year from January 6th (Epiphany), until January 6th of next year. As an asceticism to pull my attention toward the work I need to be doing inside my mind right now. I didn't call. He called, and invited me for coffee.

We had a lovely dinner. He recommended a dish on the menu which I turned out to love! and even in light of the circumstances, will probably still love. I drank copious cups of tea, and we rambled on about literature, South American writers, and Magical Realism. I was smitten. The path to my heart is paved with books, and I must admit I am a sucker for 'tortured literary types'. I asked him if he would like to go see a movie. We settled on "Transamerica", which made me like him even more. Even so, I was not about to kiss him or even think about breaking my vow, until I knew him better.

As we headed to the movie, a friend called. We decided to meet them at a swanky bowling alley here in St. Louis. I loved his friends. Loyal to the core. To him. And one of them was very serious about his Hindu faith, and very curious about my chanting and yoga practice. We talked for a bit, I learned a lot about each of them, and then we played pool into the wee hours of the morning. They were polite, gentlemen, always offering to buy more water, pretend that they didn't make that shot, so that I had a fighting chance on the pool table. The more I learned about each of their backgrounds, the more I was fascinated about the guy I was out with on a date. He intrigued me. His friends intrigued me.

They also gave me no flack over my not drinking. When he kissed me, it was magic! It was heaven! I loved it. Honestly, though I am a stripper, I am not much on public displays of affection. I made an exception. I reasoned, that if my vow was meant to be broken, then I would simply take it very, very, very, very slowly.

Sometime after we went to another bar, and I was wandering around chatting with people, meeting dedicated chefs and talking about food, and real estate, and jewelery and art, and hockey and figure skating...my date began to get more and more drunk, and more and more possessive. I just met him, and he had to come over every five seconds to whisk me away from someone else, and lay a big wet one on me. His friend who is a devout Hindu even called him on it. He said: "Dude, you don't have to prove anything. You have her. She's yours."

When we left, we stopped by his friend's house. He and I necked in the car. Then, uncharacteristically, he ripped my coat open violently. The buttons popped off. I recoiled visibly. I was taken aback. I suggested that maybe we shouldn't keep his friends waiting, and I chalked it all up to too much drunkeness.

Upstairs he became vaguely belligerent and threatening. He talked about how it took a lot for him to get angry, and how he had ripped a couple of doors off their hinges at his friend's house. His friend said: "Man, why are you scaring her?" Finally my date suggested that we leave. He beat me to it. I drove us back to the building we both live in, and we stood and kissed. It was as innocent as before. I told him that I would not sleep with him. He suggested that we just curl up together. No sex. I knew it could be a line, but he seemed so sincere, I just didn't feel like being cynical.

When we got upstairs to put the leftovers from dinner in my fridge, he asked to use my bathroom, and when he came out, he was wearing only his underwear. He'd dropped his clothes off in my bedroom. He began to maul me. I'm fairly strong, so I kept fending him off. He grabbed and twisted my nipples. I said no. I kept telling him that I was not ready. After several attempts at him very forcibly trying to remove my dress, and painfully twisting my nipples, he stopped. Then he forced my hands onto his cock. At that point, I said: "Listen. On January 6th I made a vow not to..." And he finished my sentence for me, though I had not told him this before. There was no reason to tell until that point. He knew though. He read me that well.

Even this did not stop him. He kept twisting and pulling, and I could see rage welling up in his eyes. I knew that if I allowed myself to realize at the time that this was attempted rape, then I would get very angry, and his rage could explode in response, and I could quite literally become a rape victim. I just kept telling him to go home, get some sleep, and call me in the morning to share a "coffee" like he had suggested earlier in the evening. Somehow, my calmness, or something, made him stop and walk a bit angrily back to my bedroom to retrieve the pants he deposited there without my permission. He muttered something about this being bullshit. I took his coat from the hanger, and tried to sit as patiently as possible...waiting. I knew he should not see how anxious I was for him to leave.

I leaned to give him a kiss on the cheek, and he recoiled. He stomped out of my apartment, and told me that I knew where to find him. Ever so slowly, I closed the door. I slowly locked it. Then I ran to my bedroom and collapsed in a pile of tears. Then I stopped. I knew I needed my big brother Bob...the dj at work. I went to him, and on the way, I got a text from this guy. It was horrible, but averted.

Bob, and all of my friends in the exotic dance industry were there for me. They reminded me that this had been an attempted rape. That I was not wrong for feeling violated and shaken. These people, in an industry that so many people hold contempt for...sheltered me, and made me laugh. After I cried a little, we sat around while they drank some beers and I drank orange juice. We swapped jokes about vegetarians, old lady neighbors, and compliments. I am now making a tray of special brownies for my boss as a gift, as a thank you. And the kindness Bob the dj extended to me will not be forgotten. When I needed my big brothers they were there. And they know who I am. They know what I am about. They love me, understand me, excuse me when I am wrong and will always be close to my heart.

This experience has only served to make me love and respect my friends in that industry even more. Certainly no one else I know was up at that hour, and those two guys stayed up with me until I was okay. That's friendship. When I tried to buy them drinks as a thank you, Bob reminded me that I've been there for him in the past, and that he knows I will be there for him in the future. He's right. These are the kind of friendships that do not die. And I am ever so grateful. To have had to have curled up in a tiny ball with my purple teddy bear and allow the realization of what had almost happened dawn upon me alone would have been too much. I am so glad that Bob and Mike were there. I am eternally grateful.

If mountain goats like living at high elevations, why do none live in high rise apartment buildings?