The Worst Night of My Life TM 2.0

I’ve always been quite superstitious. I know it’s silly but sometimes there are things I just have to do. For example, I always knock on wood whenever it’s mentioned. I always say Rabbit Rabbit Bunny Bunny Bunny as the first thing on the first of the month (Some people just say Rabbit Rabbit, Some just say Bunny Bunny, I say both just for good measure) The more anxious I get, the more things I have to do. For example, this summer during my french course I had to take the stairs to get to and from my classroom four times a day, because if I used the elevator, something bad would happen. I don’t know how I knew, I just did. My classroom was on the thirteenth floor. Naturally my legs were steel by the end of the summer. In any case, the point is that I was anxious about my coursework. Specifically I was stressed about an oral presentation I had to give on Thursday the 31st of May where I had to speak for several uninterrupted minutes in french without memorizing or using cue cards. I was honestly a wreck in the days before this presentation. I did not relax. I did not sleep. For the days before and of the presentation, I couldn’t make myself eat more than a small lunchtime salad. However, I had something to look forward to. Some weeks prior, I had downloaded Tinder and I had been practicing my french by chatting with a Quebecois girl. We had even agreed to go on a date the evening of the presentation to celebrate my freedom. Things were looking up. Unfortunately, come Thursday morning, I woke up late. I had stayed up until 3AM working on the presentation and I missed my alarm, so when I woke up at 8:27 I essentially had to get up and run to get to my class at 9:00. I get to the building and I realize that if I want not to be marked as absent I have to take the elevator. Not a good omen. Still, I steel my nerves and get into the elevator accepting that risking fate would be better than not getting any grade at all. Then, the impossible happens. I arrive in class. I give my presentation. It goes well. Somehow my exhausted brain had prepared enough to do a passable, even good job of it. I was incredibly relieved. My name begins with A so after I gave the first presentation, I was able to spend the rest of the day sitting and enjoying my classmate’s presentations. I was stunned. Maybe the elevator wasn’t cursed. After class, I went home and excitedly prepared for my date. You know, showering, outfit planning, deciding if make-up would be worth the risk. Guy stuff. Come the evening, I am too nervous for dinner so I just text my friend to tell them I am going on a date and to check in on me soon, and then I head out. We meet in Parc Jeanne-Mance and though we hit it off, it was kind of awkward. It was partially that it was a Tinder date, and those are naturally awkward, and it was partially that we speak two fundamentally different languages, but I think it was mostly that we just didn’t have any real chemistry. Still, I was having a pleasant time chatting with her and my evening was going well. We end up sitting on a bench drinking ciders we had bought in a depanneur (It is legal for me to drink in QC) and she tells me that she has a friend she is meeting in a club, and invites me along. The night is young and I like to dance so I agree. Thus, we head to Bar La Rockette (I had never been before) and we meet her friend who is a cute gay guy from Venezuela. He asks her if we’ve kissed yet, which seems a bit strange to me, but I let it go. I quickly warmed up to him and became relaxed. So, when he pressured us to drink, I saw nothing wrong. We danced for a few hours. I can’t remember how much I had to drink, but it was a lot for me. I had just downed a cider when cute gay friend mentions that he is heading out. The girl and I dance a little longer, and then I ask her how much longer she wants to dance, but she couldn’t hear me. We end up going outside for a moment. And I ask her again. She tells me that she is “fine and I don’t really need to keep dancing”. And then, she says, and I will never forget this, “So, my place or yours?” It takes me a moment to register this, but when I do I laugh. I laugh pretty hard. I should explain. I was an asexual and I never really thought I would be in such a situation. Still, after a moment, I realized how unforgivably rude I had been, and I explain to her that I am asexual and that my disinterest has nothing to do with her. Still, she needs to get home, so I walk her to hers. During this walk I realize several things. First, I have no idea where I am, which is kind of terrifying because I always know where I am even while drunk. Also, the last couple of drinks hit me, and I realize that I am pretty out of it. Finally, I remember that I have been sexually assaulted while sober, and so I am terrified of what might happen if I try to walk home alone. So, when we get to hers and she invites me in, I swear to you, all I was thinking was that this would be a good place to sleep. I will come to regret this decision. In any case, we end up hanging out on her bed chatting for a while about her life. At some point we end up in the hallway where I meet her mother who is apparently staying for a couple days in a different room. Now, I would like to take a moment to point out that this girl was earlier in the evening willing to bring a Tinder hook up home when her mother was around. I’m just going to let that sink in. In any case, after a brief and pleasant conversation in french with her mother, we head back to her room where we go back to talking. And then she kissed me. I figure that this is as good a point as any to point out that I am a hopeless Romantic and that I had never kissed anyone before. In my head entire relationships were formed based on kissing. I imagined that it might be a 9/10, but familiar with how disappointing the world can be, I revised to a 7/10. This kiss was a low 3/10, maybe a 2/10. Frankly, I have never been so disappointed by something in my life. But I digress. Terrible drunk kissing let to terrible sloppy drunk making out. And then she asked me “Do you want to have sex?” and what I should have said was no, as I was already not enjoying myself, and I did not want to have sex. However, I was drunk, and she clearly wanted to, and I didn’t know I was allowed to say no. So, I said “yes”. I feel it is best to note that from here forward content is explicit. Drunk me felt that it was best to begin by going down on her, which I did. She was hesitant, noting that she was on her period (Again, who is this girl) but I didn’t particularly care and went ahead anyway. My sense of time during this portion is messy, but eventually she came.(One of my few moments of pride in this disaster of an evening) This unfortunately meant that we continued to more traditional sex. So, I put on a condom for the first time in my life and I let her lead due to my inexperience. Now, while kissing definitely represents the biggest disappointment of my life, but sex on the other hand represents by far the worst experience of my life. Now, I was an asexual, so I set ridiculously low standards for how this was going to be. I was imagining a 1/10. It was a 0/10. Would not recommend to a friend. During the experience I actively dissociated from the experience so I wouldn’t have to live it. It was pretty bad. At some point in the middle of this, I realize that the sun is coming up, and so I say “It’s getting light out” and what she says to me is “Do you want to go outside” and it takes me a moment to realize that what she means is “Do you want to have sex outside?” Which I did not, and I told her so. In any case, eventually she stopped which meant I no longer had to continue.  Neither of us had gotten anywhere so to speak, and we were both too exhausted to keep going. So, I removed the condom, cleaned the blood off of myself, put on my clothes. I was still drunk, and in my head I now had a romantic obligation (I would soon be corrected) so I kissed her goodbye and went out of her apartment. It was impossibly bright outside. I check my phone. It’s sometime after six, and I have received a text from my Mother. “Rabbit Rabbit Bunny Bunny Bunny”. It was the first. On the first I always say Rabbit Rabbit Bunny Bunny Bunny as the first thing I do. I start to send the text back, but even as I was doing so, I realized that saying RRBBB wasn’t the first thing I had done that day at all. I swallow my heart and I start walking home. During this, my first walk of shame, I realize that I could easily have navigated my way home the night before. That the way home wasn’t difficult to find at all. My hair was a mess, and I was terrified that I had missed some of the blood while cleaning up. Eventually I get to my apartment where I take a shower. In retrospect, I am pretty certain that I was just imagining things, but at the time it seemed that no matter how much soap I used, I couldn’t get the smell of sex off of me. Eventually, I gave up, towelled off, and went to bed where I lay and sobbed. After some time, I look at my phone. It’s 8:17AM Friday the First of June 2018. So, I take my exhausted, starving, drunk, starting to get hungover, completely morally bankrupt self out of bed, I put on some clothes, and then I head to School. I have class at 9AM.

That is the story of the worst night of my life.