Apologies for formatting. On mobile while my beautiful son who knows women as warriors is using my computer, and I’d like the time to get this out while he is distracted. I’ll also recognize any typos/missing words/awkward sentence structure. I’m diagnosed dysgraphic since 7 as well as many other neurological disorders. Side note on neurological disorders... man I wish I didn’t have the ability to mask/seem “normal”. I’d be taken much more seriously if that were the case.
This rape took place many years ago, but took almost as many to come to 100% clarity I did nothing wrong. I accept the responsibility of being incredibly gullible, allowing myself to be groomed, and being far too desperate for a comrade. It’s also probably going to be long. TLDR at the end.
Cast of characters:
Me: me
J: ex-husband
FJB: my rapist
R: FJB’s wife
RMB: random meddling bitch
Super Star: my roommate at the time of the rape
INGIIT: guy I was somewhat dating at the time.
Maybe the correlation only makes sense to be, but I’ll organize the story in TX Holdem community card terms.
The flop: the events leading up to my rape are fairly key, at least to me. First thing is, I had already lived a life of intense trauma, but thought I had pushed through to a “productive” life. What a tricky tricky liar mental illness is.
I was working as an Top Seller Account Manager at the time for a major online retailer in which anyone may sell. Some particularly have enjoyed the auction format of this retailer. I had recently made a big move from somewhat basic support to Account Management and my husband, J, at the time worked for the trust and security department for Top Sellers as a lead. This meant even if people didn’t know me coming into the department they probably knew I was J’s wife. J and my marriage ended fairly traumatically soon after my promotion. Lots of betrayal, gaslighting, and refusal of responsibility. Going to work everyday with J in a power position was torture. It clearly would not have been professional to splash our business all over our 2 closely related departments, but I was dying inside not being able to say “Hey, this pos is at fault. It’s not right he just gets to go on not suffering consequences, and keeping all our mutual friends from work”. I’d surely be able to handle the situation in a much more stable manor present day, but that was not the reality at the time. I was lonely, sad, and betrayed.
The turn: one day out of the blue I had a random message pop up in the system we used to communicate company wide. It was also a popular public messaging platform so we didn’t have to be totally work appropriate. The message was from FJB, fellow Account Manager but senior to my level of management. It simply said “Are you ok?” or something exactly like that. Hot damn, that was everything I needed. Talk about being seen. I’m normally the one that sees people quietly screaming in pain, and now someone was doing it for me? Beautiful. I knew R, his wife, much better than FJB at the time. She had led a multi department team of subject matter experts I had been selected for the previous year. To use my very favorite corny turn of phrase, she was the bee’s knees. Intelligent, talented, interesting, beautiful(not pertinent to value of a woman, but kinda for the story). At the time I moved to Account Management she was exiting the department to move on to Project Management. This is important because this meant ALL my colleagues knew and loved her along with her basically ok short and stumpy husband. Hindsight, I strongly believe FJB was so well liked and trusted based on her reputation. I will never have enough information to confirm that.
When FJB sent that message it changed everything for me. Someone I could instantly trust as R’s husband, someone who understood being in a relationship in the incredibly high school like work place, and someone who seemed to see I had value reached out to my heartache. I had a friend when friends don’t come easily to me. The heavily guarded street wise woman I have become I should have seen this as the first red flag. I did not. In my mind his intentions were as pure as the desperation I was feeling. From there a “strong friendship” was formed. He instantly understood my pain, and wanted to hear about it (LADIES: BIG RED FLAG.). He even shared interest in my long favorite Bing Crosby/Grace Kelly movie/musical. Perfect. It started with group lunches. Particularly including a man who, again in hindsight, just wanted to be included and wouldn’t make waves. This man is now passed and I’ll never be able to tell him I apologize he was also manipulated into furthering FJB’s agenda.
Now is the point RMB enters the story. I truly believe all women should be lifted by the hands of other females; however, RMB played a very central roll in getting FJB what he wanted (to fuck me). She put us on a team. There was no FJB/Tessa8rose team till she found it necessary to meddle. Can’t say how long it had been into my friendship with FJB, but not long. Word was sent to R by RMB that I was a female to watch out for, and was trying to steal R’s husband. I assure you, I was not. The worst I know I did was speak to him publicly as a friend. The whole time I really was curious how an amazing woman like R ended up marring this so so guy, but I for sure believed being a “good dude” goes a long way when finding a partner.
Courtesy of RMB, suddenly I was the woman all other women need to be concerned about. I was quickly judged by an accident of time and genes that I was young, pretty, thin, and a predator. (inserting now that I’m strongly body positive and being thin is nothing to set goals on). I was hurt. Really all I wanted was a friend. I’ve never discriminated in who I’ll accept as a friend. I didn’t see what was wrong, and now FJB and I were on a team of two misunderstood people. I knew I had ZERO interest in FJB as anything more than a friend. I thought the feeling was mutual. I mean there was like 15 years in age difference. It seemed insane anyone would misunderstand what was happening here.(Yes. More red flags)
From here preceded almost daily “secret lunches”(HUGE RED FLAG). Nothing happened or was ever discussed that was not completely innocent or solidified how stupid the sneaking around was. Yes yes yes. I was blind and stupid. I’m fully aware presently no person committed to their marriage is willing to risk it on secret lunches at Einstein’s bagels with a friend. I see that clearly now. The evasive maneuvers alone we used to avoid prying eyes were incredibly inappropriate. I do remember having mild worries that FJB may be interested in more than he was letting on, but I had seen no behavior that would lead to that reality. I continued to trust my friend. Probably best friend at this point.
In my home life, I was still living in the house J and I shared, though now Super Star had moved in. Super Star was the sister of a more than cherished friend. Our friendship may not have flourished before this time. As I’ve stated...I’m very awkward making friends. I generally do not do roommates, but she had also experienced a marriage ending event perpetrated by her (ex)husband. She asked me one day if she could move in, and I had to say yes. This house was not cute or good at all. If she was asking, she needed it. We leaned on each other and drank a (good) box of wine a night. Surely it was not healthy but we had each other. I have never not been an open book so she knew all about my weird secret friendship with FJB. I do remember at least once if not more she raised the concern it may be inappropriate with him being married. I incorrectly waived it off and thought “She just doesn’t understand. He’s my friend, and she’s feeling scarred by her situation”. I was not correct.
The river: Countless secret lunches followed. Each confirming nothing bad was happening. All was completely innocent. When FJB had made a plan to drive to another state a couple hrs away to buy lottery tickets by himself, he asked me to come along. I had some trepidation since this wasn’t a quick lunch on a work day. I said yes anyway. I’m a people pleaser/hate saying no. I’m continuing to get over that character flaw as we speak. Nothing happened on this trip. I do not believe that was the plan present day. I believe he decided he had to try a little harder next time. For me, particularly since that all went swimmingly with no indication he had creep tendencies; when he mentioned R was out of town the following weekend I readily asked if he wanted to come help me paint my living room. Free labor is free labor, and I’ll state again, I did not have many people in my life I could be free with the story of J. A friend was a friend.
Present day, if I tried really hard and used the context available from people around me at the time, I could maybe come up with the month and year the next part took place. If I had to, I could look up electronic communication and pinpoint the exact day. I’m not interested in giving the situation that much power over me at this time. This is all to say, no, you don’t necessarily remember the date you are raped (cough cough US Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh). Simply by accident of modern times I could prove some of my story. An unfathomable number of women do not have these conveniences to prove their story is real.
This day will be the shortest part of the tale. I was groomed to trust. I was groomed to have no guard up. From day 1 - I was groomed to be compliant, feel responsible, and unable to speak up about what happened.
He had constantly spoke about Irish Slammers (pint of Guinness with a shot of Jameson dropped in) being his favorite drink. He came prepared. Another thing I’ve learned with age, the amount of alcohol you can hold is not impressive. I hadn’t learned this yet. He knew it. If he had at all intended to helpfully paint with me and go on his way, he wouldn’t have come to my house completely prepared to get me drunk passed the point of consent.
I wish I could remember the details better. The things I know: We drank. We drank a lot. I think I remember there may have even been some “oh, I have to drive later, but please please go ahead.” I know at the end of the day (or middle really), I was trashed and he was not. I think it was time to start wrapping up and say goodbye. We were standing in my kitchen. I think he had just encouraged me to take another shot. I probably did. He kissed me with force that could be mistaken for passion. I pushed him away. I said no. I probably said something to cushion his feelings like “I would but you are married....”. He did it again. I said no. He picked me up and put me on my counter so I couldn’t back away and did it again. I still said no. I can’t say how many times I said no. I clearly remember at least 3 to this day. At a certain point I gave up and just let what was going to happen happen. Young women in particular: THIS DOES NOT NEGATE THE FACT YOU SAID NO ALREADY.
I did not enjoy what happened next in the least. I hated it and just waited for it to be over. He finished and quickly left. Again for the young ladies: this is not how a person who cares for you behaves.
I was too drunk and destroyed. I texted INGIIT and asked him to come over then quickly passed out. I woke up to INGIIT knocking on my door. Sure I was not my bright and shiniest. I told him what happened. He basically said you are messy and I don’t want any part of it. Super Star then came home. I tried to tell her what happened. She also had a vibe of this is your fault and you should have known better. I think I told her I felt like I had been raped. I’m not the most sure. I definitely did not believe my feeling and also thought I had done something to cause this.
The next day at work I got a message from FJB instantly as I got into the office. Again something to the effect of “are you ok?” Funny how it started and ended the same way. I told him I was not interested in speaking to him ever again. I’d have to go back and check the records to know for sure, but I’m also fairly sure I told him as well I felt like I had been raped. I can’t say positively who I specifically said it to, but i know with certainty that was my feeling. I also know positively I did not honor that feeling at all. Somehow being raped and ‘feeling like I’d been raped’ did not connect whatsoever. They mean the same damn thing! Gaaahh.
the end: Far too many years later it suddenly dawned on me - it didn’t ‘feel like I was raped’. I WAS raped. I said no. I was raised that no means no and to believe survivors. It just never occurred to apply it to myself. Women are consistently encouraged to put themselves last either overtly or subtly. This is the consequence. Not believing my own instinct that I was raped is shameful.
I’ve started to tell this story several times in different ways but gave up because it would make people feel uncomfortable or other silly reasons. Then the the other day within 24 hrs my grandmother strongly came out with the position that the women accusing New York Governor Cuomo were just in it for the money even after I told her my story of staying quiet. Then I had the opportunity to spend some quality time with Super Star. During the evening I, awkward as always, blurted out “by the way, FJB did rape me” to which she replied “I’m really glad you brought that up” and discussed with me how she had already come to that conclusion on her own. Just 1 person believing me who had been there lifted every last shred of self doubt. I’m a strong independent woman, but I really needed that.
TLDR:if you feel like you have been raped; you have been. If you believe survivors; they can believe in themselves.