Let me tell you a true story.
I've told exactly one person the details of this story. Several people know the general happenings.

I say it's difficult because I support abused women. I support criminal systems that make sense. I'm the daughter/cousin/neice of police officers.

I am partially to blame for another woman being raped.

The woman who was raped is known to me. And while she says she doesn't blame me...I know she is my victim.

Here's the story: A decade ago, after ending a relationship that was happy but unhealthy, I fell into a depression. I swore off dating. I thought I'd be alone for the rest of my life raising my autistic child alone.

Eventually I saw a glimmer of hope and started dating again. My heart wasn't in it though. I was a serial "first dater." Men. Women. Anyone with a pulse. Forcing things what weren't there.

This went on for a few years.
Until the date from hell.
Guy (well call him Ego) was my "type": good looking, power lifter (read: big dude), well-spoken, intelligent. We chatted for a couple of weeks online before arranging a meet up dinner/drinks.

I didn't have any hope for it, but it gave me something to do.

A few things about me back then: I wasn't stupid. I never had anyone pick me up, meet my child, or know anything about me really. I didn't drink on first dates.

After arriving at the restaurant late (children slow you down - autistic children slow you WAAAYYY down), he commented how rude that was of me. I said I had messaged him to let him know my child was having a rough go with the babysitter but I was still on the way.

He huffed in a very off-putting way, but moved the convo along. Complimenting me on my dress and hair, but I was already not into this date. We ordered drinks (him - hard liquor, me - a sweet tea) and I was polite and offered to pay for my own dinner, but he insisted

It was on him and to order as I wished. Okay, dude. Whatever you say.
He begins another conversation with "My ex-wife would die to see me sitting here with you..."

Oh boy....here we go.

I bite and ask why.
He said "She's a skinny, frail blonde with fake tits and you're the opposite. Strong, built like a brick house, au naturale. And that ass...people pay money for that."

WTF DUDE. We had ZERO conversation in this realm before the date.

I'm all about sexual freedom. I've got kink in my closet. I don't mind conversing about sex...

This was not anything I was in to, though. He was forceful. He was staring at me like a meal. His eloquence with words was gone.

I had warning lights going off 10 minutes in.

He changed subjects after I awkwardly laughed about that.

Discussions with his therapist. The big reason for his divorce was his anger management issues.

I remember looking around thinking this was a joke.

I asked if he thought he had it under control. He said yeah, he smoked a lot of weed now so it was okay (no judgement from me, but this is important later).

He asked if I knew his endocrinologist. He didn't produce testosterone naturally so he had to see an endocrinologist.

I said no, why would I? He said "you work at the hospital don't you?"

1.) I never told him where I worked and I didn't post that on Facebook (which was set to private everything).
2.) WTF.

How do I navigate this convo with someone who is making me more and more uncomfortable without triggering his anger management issues?

I kept going anyway.

I remember steering him away from specifics of my job like I normally did. It wasn't a glamorous job and I was quite embarrassed by it (I don't know why). So we ended up talking about sports. He hated baseball and hockey. I live for baseball and hockey.

He liked talking about his sexual conquests intermittently like that was something normal to do on a first date.

I shut down after that. The warning lights were in my face.

After he left for the bathroom for the 3rd time (meds side effect says he, not likely says I) I asked the bartender to split the bill and help me get out of this.

Bartender laughed and said give me you number and I'll call you in a moment and then winked.

Ugh. Not helping.

Ego comes back from the bathroom talking about his multitude of cars he owns. The business trips he takes. The women he fucks nightly. He leans over and quietly asks "Wouldn't you love to be one?"

I look at Ego and then the bartender who's just snickering to himself....

I said "Thanks, Ego, but I really think I need to go pick up my kiddo. He was already having a rough night."

(What's more of a cockblock than a single mom with a needy kid, amiright?)

Ego didn't like that. He composed himself though. He said "Okay - I'll just grab the check."

We went back and forth on who's paying for my meal when the bartender brought separate checks, but Ego eventually grabbed it from my hands and threw down $200 (for a $70 meal).

I was trying the whole time to just leave. My heart was racing at this point. I wanted to go home and curl up with some wine and cry for the 60th time that week.

Ego followed me to my very modest car.

Ego said he'd take care of me and get me a new car if I wanted one and be his woman.

Me (fiercely independent since birth) - "Nah I'm good."

Ego: "Fuck this. You bitch. You're nothing but a piece of trash. Trash I'd still like to fuck. But I'm not getting that am I?"

Me: "Have a nice night, Ego. Thanks for dinner."

Ego leans in for a kiss (after calling me a bitch...whaaat) and I duck out of the way dropping my purse.

Ego (the powerlifter) grabs me like I'm nothing. Pulls me to his truck (parked right behind me).

Opens the back door, grabs the seatbelt and pulls my arms behind me, tangling me up in them.

I'm screaming. Kicking. Spitting. Grabbing with claws.

He punches me one time in the side of the head and I kick him in the stomach. I think he punched me a second time but I don't remember much until I come-to and we're in the abandoned part of a parking lot about 100 yards from the restaurant around a corner.

He has lifted my dress over my breasts and is biting them.
My underwear was already down and he stroking himself.

He's mumbling something to me but I can't understand him. I rememberr being in and out for a moment until he penetrated me anally.

I screamed again. Over the traffic noise I know I wouldn't be heard. My head was throbbing every time I took a breath. He put his hand over my mouth and dared me to keep screaming and see what happens.

I self preservation I stopped screaming.

He took his time after that. My arms were numb from being tied behind me awkwardly, so when he untied me to flip me over, I couldn't fight him off. I just cried. My head hurt, my arms hurt, I tasted blood in my mouth.

Eventually he finished in me.

My brain went into overdrive and I started thinking about my next steps. Don't shower. Report to police. Call mom. Call BFF. I started chanting it until he left me with this:

"You know I know where you work. What you don't know is that my best friends serve this city in the police department. I'll know before anyone else if this leaves this parking lot."

I'm the daughter of a cop. The cousin of a sheriff. The niece of a state trooper. It didn't cross my mind that going to the police would be the wrong thing to do until Ego said that.

He left me in the empty parking lot.

I walked painfully back toward my car in a haze.

You don't think you'd remember every detail of that night after trauma. But it's funny how the brain works. It's burned into my memory. Especially after what came next.

I kept this to myself. I didn't want him to show up to my work and cause problems. I didn't want to think of him. I went home, showered, cleaned myself off, and pushed those emotions down. Deep down. So much so I refused to think about it.

Many months later, I get a message from a woman asking if I know Ego.

My little fake world came crashing down and I asked her who she was. She said she was Ego's recent ex.

At some point in their relationship Ego told her about me. He spun it like I was into rape-play and asked for it. She said at first,she was jealous when he would talk about everything he did to me. She stalked me on FB, but didn't have much to go off of (private page)

The story he concocted was that we had an ongoing relationship while he was still dating her.

I shattered her world and told her that's not at all what happened. It was one time and it was not my choice. I blocked her.

Christmas of that year, I found out he was in jail.

Sexual assault and attempted murder.

The victim? His ex. The one who messaged me.

Had I listened to my gut that night, the chances of him meeting her would have been nearly zero.

The evidence was in between my legs and on my face. There were witnesses to me trying to leave him. This could have been an easy case.

If only life played out in reality the way it does on TV, right?

So I'm a survivor is sexual assault.

I refused to be labeled a victim. I survived it. I could have done more, but the fear and the victim mentality is what caused me to keep quiet.

Fear and victim mentality gave Ego the opportunity to strike again.

I could have called the cops. I could have bugged someone every goddamn day until they arrested him. I could have done more.

So I live with this guilt, but I refuse to be defined by it.

I know cops that would have helped me in an instant.

I know men who would gladly beat the shit out of Ego on my behalf.

I know I failed her, but that the justice system worked for his next victim.