I Was Raped Today

A guy called today from one of my dating sites. I had already removed my profiles and had chalked this guy up as someone else who doesn’t follow through, he was supposed to call three days ago. He said he didn’t have plans today, did I want to get together and meet for coffee. Sure, why not, what could it hurt?

All I was really interested in was maybe having him kiss me so I could stop seeing Mr. brief-but-extremely-stimulating-relationship’s face in my mind’s eye constantly. I kept picturing our moments together over and over, longing for more all the time. Oh how I wish I could go back to that innocent school-girl daydreaming of this morning before the rapist called. Oh how I wish it were Mr. brief-but-extremely-stimulating-relationship’s face I’m seeing now. Instead I relive every sick moment over and over again like The Never Ending Story, playing in a constant loop.

His putrid smell refuses to wash off my body. I’ve taken several baths. I washed, no scrubbed, my body with Patchouli soap and a luffa sponge, washed my hair and clothes; it didn’t help. In my second bath I used a half gallon of vinegar and douched, twice. Then I shaved, down there to get his smell off me. Gawd will it ever go away? I have never felt so dirty, humiliated and alone.

Never did I imagine something like this would happen to me. I thought myself too smart. How could I be so stupid? Why couldn’t I get away? Why did I leave my gun at home and take my meds instead? (I was crossing state lines, that’s why, another mistake I won’t make again.)

When he wasn’t pulling my hair and hitting me he was insisting I call him “Master.” I looked the fucker in the eye and I said, “I have only one master!” He asked who and I told him God. He could have slit my throat but I would DIE before I called that bastard master. FUCK YOU, you son-of-a-bitch!

I want to be there, sitting on the upper wall of the Holy City in the end of time. I want to see that bastards face when it starts raining fire and brimstone. I’ll shout down and ask him, “Who’s your master?” ROT IN HELL MOTHER FUCKER! Oh, and I’d watch your back if I were you.