I'll come up with something in a minute.

I Got Your Rape Culture Right Here: Part Two – I’m annoyed that the one time I was accused of rape, no one bothered to look into the issue.

You might wish to peruse part one.

Warning: This could be triggery as hell, but I don’t feel comfortable cutting it and making it easy to skip. :/

I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be annoyed that the one time I was accused of rape, no one bothered to look into the issue. I mean, everyone assumed I was telling the truth, and everyone assumed the girl was lying. As the beneficiary of that, I suppose I should be glad, but in retrospect I can’t help but feel annoyed that no one really bothered to ask that many questions. It was a serious issue, and no one treated it seriously. Okay, nice to be believed, but sad that everyone shrugged off the issue.

Allow me to explain.

Once there was a girl who had a massive crush on… you know, I’m not exactly sure. Yes, she wanted to get into a relationship with me, but she also wanted to be with some of the people I was with too. I’m not sure if this was so much a crush on me, so much as a crush on the situation. She just wanted to be part of the show, but she wasn’t balanced and rule two states: Don’t stick your dick in the crazy.. This situation was part of the formulation of that rule. Don’t bang drunk chicks came later, and because of similar situations.

So we’ve got this girl, who I worked out was psycho just as I was getting to a point where I might have really gotten myself into trouble. Now, I never actually slept with this girl, never got beyond some mild kissing. I then worked out she was a bit nuts, and about the time I had worked out that there was something wrong, a lot of other people also reached a similar conclusion. She faked a beating her father gave her, according to the person who said she told them, by smacking herself in the face with a book. A lot of people more or less came to the conclusion that she was too rich for their blood and cashed out of that card game but quick. I had already left that hot mess on the road by the time the “beating thing” came about, having decided that her talking smack about Syd was not on.

So a few weeks later, I get a phone call. I’m going to disguise things by even giving false initials.

G: Hey, how’s W in bed?
Me: No idea, it never got that far.
G: But she blew you right?
Me: Uh, no. It never went beyond first base.
G: Who the fuck says first base in 1996?
Me: I do. I’m all full of anachronistic shit.
G: That’s interesting.
Me: Ain’t it just? I also say ‘groovy’ a lot.
G: No, it’s interesting that you say you never fucked her.
Me: Why?
G: She’s saying that you and her basically fucked on a daily basis though most of May. Then one day, when she wasn’t in the mood, you ah… how do I put this?
Me: Are you talking rape?
G: Yeah, I guess I am. She’s saying you raped her.
Me: Okay, I deny that. It never got near sex with us.
G: Okay.
Me: Okay?
G: Well, she’s been saying that you and her fucked for a while, but she just dropped this rape thing today.
Me: Okay. So, what do you want to do about it?
G: Nothing I guess. I mean, I believe you.
Me: Okay.
G: Just look out, she’s talking all kinds of shit about you.

There was then another conversation with a person who said that she’d said I forced her to perform an oral act upon my person, but they didn’t even mention it to me at the time because they thought it sounded like bullshit. This was just the final nail in the coffin and after that whole accusation thing W was sent off to the island of misfit toys. The last I heard of her was over a year later when she called me, trying to patch things up. That conversation involved the words “suicide attempt” and “institution” and an admittance that she’d made the whole thing up because she was mad at me… or Syd, or G or U, or whoever she thought she was mad at. There was also a lot of crying and throwing herself against the stony rock face that passes for my tender mercy.

I didn’t say much, just admitted that the accusation had bothered me, and that I wasn’t sure I could bring myself to forgive her for making it. The thing is, we wouldn’t have gone back to being friends if I had, and my soul is pretty comfortable with the black marks on it. Makes it look all goth and sexy. To this day, I’m not sorry for not having handed out some half hearted bullshit non-apology like “Well, I guess we both did things wrong” and I’m not sorry for saying “Shush little lamb, I forgive you all the wrongs you tried to do me.”

What I feel is a deep sense of anger. Anger that someone would falsely accuse someone of the one of the darkest crimes our society has. Anger that everyone else just sort of looked at her, and then at me and went “Naaaaah!” without ever trying to really investigate the matter. Anger that things like this only serve to make it that much easier for a genuine case to be dismissed. There might even be some anger at myself, for not going into a righteous fury, demanding the truth be shown. I just let everyone drop it, and allowed the event to become another bump in an already bumpy summer. It became just another ostraka cast in to the voting that led to the eventual shunning of W from the group.

I’m still kind of bugged by how easily the whole thing went from accusation to acquittal though.

The thing that really keeps me up nights though, is that thought that I must have been associating with some real pieces of shit. Most the people in that group that I still associate with, either didn’t hear about this until much later, or only heard about it through third party channels because they’d decided that seeing W again wasn’t part of their life plan and they were already prepared to call her a lying bitch if she claimed the sky was blue and would have waited until sundown to scream that it was clearly orange and red. The people who let the accusation drop, the ones who heard it first hand, were so dismissive of it that subconsciously I think it tripped a switch for me. I watched them after that, and I must say that their attitudes to later events like this one did not bode well for us still being friends.

I don’t like how the thing was handled. I don’t like how some people I called friends treated the accuser. I don’t like how lightly it was all treated. Mind you, I don’t like people lying about me either. In fact nothing gets my blood up so much as someone telling a lie about me. The whole thing leaves me feeling sick and ambivalent about humanity.

Yeah, there’s no joke here, just another reason as to why I claim that life has no real heroes.

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March 22, 2012 - Posted by | Uncategorized |

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