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He Gave Me A Drink That Made Me Dizzy…And Then I Heard The Click Of Handcuffs Around My Wrists

Growing up as a victim of sexual abuse had bred a sense of mistrust in me. After a long time, I met this good-looking surgeon capable of delightful conversations. One afternoon, he suggested we grab drinks at his place.

Trigger warning: This story is about sexual assault and may be triggering for survivors.

Dating apps have always remained a grey zone for me. My last relationship crashed and burned four years ago for no fault of my own. It led me to believe that no matter how hard I tried, my outspoken, opinionated nature would never enable me to find myself a suitable partner.

Growing up as a victim of sexual abuse as a child had bred a sense of mistrust in me and another tumultuously abusive relationship at 19 had fuelled the same fire. With a history like that, my therapist was not very surprised to see me at their office every week. In all honesty, I had a wide range of issues to be worked on, starting from PMDD and anxiety to body dysmorphia and depression. Due to these, going out with strangers or meeting new people was a harrowing experience. Despite of all my shortcomings in the dating pool, upon the insistence of few friends, I decided to create a profile on a dating app.

He was an intelligent, good-looking surgeon capable of delightful conversations!

It was a lousy start. Most men were downright rude, offensive or vulgar. I still managed to strike up a conversation with a couple of courteous people. A few days later, as the conversations furthered, I entered a zone where I was comfortable with the idea of meeting one of them over coffee.

He was an intelligent, good-looking surgeon, capable of making delightful conversations. A highly accomplished, educated doctor, he had a penchant for his field of study. I was amazed at his ambition and intellect while we ended up figuring out a few mutual friends on our first date itself. We had a lot in common and he confessed to have found me extremely attractive and intelligent. I enjoyed his company and we started to see each other often, over a couple of drinks or coffee.

When I mentioned about my intimacy issues, he retorted on how I need not worry about that with him since he is more keen on getting to know me in order to bond well. I never sensed anything off-putting with his personality.

He gave me a drink that made me dizzy. And then I could hear the click of handcuffs around my wrists…

One afternoon, he suggested we grab a couple of drinks at his place. It did not strike me as odd because I had been over at his quite a few times and even met his friends. As the afternoon commenced, he poured me a drink with just 30 millilitres of vodka in it. We sat and talked about our families, the relationships with our parents and some other ordinary topics. Thirty minutes into the conversation, he poured me my second drink, with the exact same quantities. A few minutes after I had finished it, I begun experiencing an unusual dizziness.

As my horrors came true, everything that went on after that is still etched on mind as frozen frames of a motion picture. The sequence of events went on with me noticing that my clothes were missing, darkness encapsulating the room and my mind at warp speed and the only question being asked by me was, “What the hell is happening?”

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Moments into my unexplained ordeal, I could hear the click of handcuffs around my wrist. In the state of utter confusion I still managed to ask him if he had a condom on. All he did was nod and hastily flip me around, shove me about, bend me over as he foisted his will upon an inebriated woman. Consent was tossed out of the window.

He had the audacity to deny that he had assaulted me!

The bigger horror followed soon after. As I faltered underneath him, waiting in the furry handcuffs as he violated me, I mumbled once again, “You do have a condom on, right?” To my sheer shock, he blurted “No! I took it off long time ago. It was not fun with it on.” At the end of his sentence, he pulled out to finish on my belly and hurled a napkin at my face. I quickly slipped into my dress, grabbed my belongings and sprinted downstairs without as much a goodbye.

A few days later, I dropped him a text to let him know how hapless, weak and violated he made me feel that night. To my utter dismay, he responded with, “Don’t use such words for me. I am not that kind of a creep who does all this.” In that moment, I learnt a rocky lesson of life. It doesn’t matter how civilised a person appears to be or if they hold a MD or not, if they are not made to understand what consent is, they are eventually going to be a monster to someone.

(Dear readers, if you’d like to drop a message to me or this organisation I work with closely, the links are:

Image source: Still from Pink 



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