An Open Letter To My ‘Best Friend’ Who Raped Me

Montse Monmo
Montse Monmo

A drunk yes is a sober no.

Listen, you can tell your friends whatever version of that night you can come up with to justify your actions; that is your choice… but you should know that what happened was NOT consensual in any way. When I woke up that morning, I spent the rest of the day trying to justify what went down; I mean you are such a close friend, it just can’t be like that. But the more I thought about it, the more I started to recall certain events.

Let’s start with the fact that I was ready to go to sleep in my very own bed, when you walked in and took off your pants. I remember thinking this was normal, guys don’t sleep with their pants on. However, it is what I don’t remember that strikes a chord inside me.

I don’t remember how it started, I don’t remember if we kissed, if you went down on me, if I went down on you, or if you put a condom on. I don’t remember consenting, I don’t remember saying yes, I don’t remember saying I wanted you to take your pants off and put yourself inside me.

What I do remember is waking up with my face soaked in tears over and over again. In and out of consciousness as you thrusted your body up against mine and moved my limp body into whatever position pleased you.

I remember you asking me to wake up, lightly tapping my face, as if that wasn’t already a sign that you should stop. You couldn’t hear my tears because they were silent.

It wasn’t until the thrusts started to feel painful, that my silent tears turned to loud sobs. You immediately leapt off me and proceeded to put your clothes on; “this was a mistake” you said, jumping back into your pants. I don’t recall what happened next, except that I was sobbing uncontrollably.

The sobs seemed to have sobered me up just enough to start feeling the magnitude of the situation. I do remember feeling extreme shame. Shame that I had let you hurt me and that we were in this situation. In that moment, I did not want you to feel bad. I decided to change the subject to my ex-boyfriend. I remember ranting about him and raving about how much I missed him. He was the last and only guy I had sex with and actually loved. A feeling, in that moment, I had missed. I missed him, just not that much to get that upset.

What I was really upset about, is the fact that we had just had sex; non-consensual sex. I did not want to have sex with you that night or any night leading up to it.

You see, if you looked up any official document regarding non-consensual sex, I can guarantee you that it will say anyone under the influence of alcohol is unable to consent to any sexual relations and if that someone is penetrated, it is classified as rape.

There… I said it. You raped me. In the plainest nastiest wording: you raped me.

You could say “I was asking for it” like any old line out of this book but the truth is, even if I begged you to have sex with me, you had no right to do so. Let me take you through my thought-process that night, since it seems like I have to justify why me being drunk is not an excuse for you to have sex with me.

I invited three of my closest friends who I have known for a couple years over to my house for the super bowl. I was contemplating whether I should drink or not since I had school the next day. However, it was an afternoon class and I was turning 19 in five months so I might as well hike up my tolerance. Anyway, the point is I thought I was safe. I was with three of my closest friends, at home, with my bed only 10 feet away. If anything went wrong, you guys would take care of me and I could just go to sleep. It was my turn to have a few too many.

That night, you drank 4-5 coolers and possibly a small amount of the Captain Morgan mickey, over the course of about 7 hours. That same night, I drank a bottle of wine, 2-3 of your coolers, and almost the entire mickey of Captain Morgan. All of this, you were aware of; you knew how much I had drank.

Now, it doesn’t take genius to figure out that you weigh a few extra pounds more than me thus, making your tolerance much higher.

And that amount of alcohol is more than enough for someone my size. I know you told your buddy that you were drunk, but that clearly was not the case that night. I have the other two people that were there that back up these claims as well, and yes that includes your own best friend.

Speaking of your best friend, it wasn’t until a few days later that I found out he had his own suspicions that night as well. Apparently you told him you were going to “tuck me in” and never came back. He thought this to be strange but ignored his doubts… we were best friends!!

The next morning, he noticed we still hadn’t left the room and he tried to peer in but the door was locked. Sadly, he had to leave but that didn’t change the fact that what he witnessed made him suspicious.

Two days after that night, I decided to go to the doctor. I was experiencing pain and a little bleeding down there, and I was concerned; it was not that time of the month yet. I told her what had happened and she explained to me that when a woman does not want to have sex, her body rejects it in any way it can.

This meant that while you were thrusting yourself inside me, you were ripping my walls. This caused tearing and thus, the bleeding. After hearing this, my doctor suggested I get a rape kit done, since all the signs pointed to non-consensual sex.

The whole point of a rape kit is so that you have documented proof of a rape; that is, signs of unwanted sexual encounters (tears and bleeding), DNA evidence (on clothing/sheets and inside me), and a full report of the incident. I was hesitant to do so because we were such close friends but the doctor told me that I only had to take action if I wanted. They would keep the kit on file for a little while and I could access it later on if I needed to do so. It was security in case you decided to spin the truth, which I was hoping you wouldn’t.

Now, you can go on to claim we had sex before and so on.. but the fact of the matter is, I was unable to give consent and I did not give you consent.

I cannot begin to explain to you what it feels like to sit down at the end of the day and think about the fact that someone else put themselves inside you without your permission. Call me a drama queen or tell me I’m exaggerating but whether it is your best friend or a total stranger; it still feels like rape.

It feels like someone has taken advantage of you; that someone thought that your body was theirs to take. You have no idea how it feels to have someone on top of you thrusting into you like a sweaty animal, taking whatever he needs, without the ability to say no.

You don’t know what it feels like to wake up on the couch for the next 4 days because you can’t stand to lay in your own bed. You don’t know what if feels like to throw out your bedsheets and your favourite pair of panties because now they are stained with your inability to respect my right to consent. You don’t know how it feels to know someone you trusted had taken advantage of you in the most disgusting way.

If a girl can barely keep her head up or her eyes open, YOU DO NOT HAVE SEX WITH HER. It is that simple. Not raping someone is that simple. If you think she has had too much to drink, DO NOT HAVE SEX WITH HER.

I do not care if I was flirting with you, if I was begging for it, if I was leading you on; you had no right to have sex with me. The fact that my ex-boyfriend who I dated for over a year would not have sex with me if I was drunk should speak volumes to you.

Even if someone is your girlfriend, wife, or someone you have sex with regularly, YOU DO NOT HAVE SEX WITH THEM without clear consent.

What I am hoping from this letter, is that you realize that what you did was not a joke and I do not take it lightly. You took advantage of me and if you were a stranger we would be dealing with the cops right now. However, since we were so close and my care for you as a friend doesn’t just vanish with your crime, I chose to let it go, along with you.

When I see your name pop up on my phone, I feel sick. That is why I blocked you. That is why I can’t stand to think, see, or talk to you. That is why I wrote you this letter. So I can get it all out right here and never think of that night or you ever again.

You will never know how much you hurt me because you will never know what it feels like to be betrayed in that way. I hope you come to terms with everything that has happened and realize it was a horrible crime, not a mistake. I don’t care for a reply from you I just needed you to have some understanding of that night from my point of view.

Until then… I leave you with this; a drunk yes is a sober no.Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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