Omg. Terrifying. And this whole world of sick fuckers is incomprehensible. But unfortunately we need to know about it to try to make for safety, for ourselves, our daughters, and all women. It’s so disgusting that these cretins get birthed by us, and then become monsters. I wonder if they were threatened with castration whether that would be a deterrent, because obviously they have no moral compass. Glad you escaped one close call, and listened to your intuition on the other one. Jeez. What a world. I need a huge dose of nature, exercise, birdsong, Tonglen, and maybe journal writing to wipe off the slime from allowing this in.
I’m so sorry, Julie. I seriously wondered about writing about it, but it’s been haunting me, and it felt necessary somehow. The need for a nature cleanse is why I led with the image of Crater Lake.
I was compelled to read this even though I feel so in shock about the fact this Motherless site exists at all; and at all the things that have happened recently.
It’s bringing up old memories for me, not as serious as yours but still not acceptable behaviour. Having read this, I am beginning to think I will have to write too.
Maybe the writing of it will allow me to more fully accept what happened and stop me blaming myself for not saying no clearly enough. Because quite clearly, a ‘no’ doesn’t mean anything to some men.
This is all making me nauseous. Everytime I read about anything like this, I just want to throw up.
Thank you Ros for your courage in writing this, and in such a well-written piece too.
Thank you, Jane. For a long time I have thought about writing about my drink being spiked. It is a planned chapter in the memoir I’m writing. I have tried several times to write about it, and failed. Finding out about the Motherless site brought it to the fore, and I finally found a route in. Write yours, too, if you can. I think it might help. I am glad to have finally expressed that night in words. It’s like an exorcism.
What a terrifying story, all the more so for it being in central London surrounded by people. I commend you for getting away and onto the 159 bus (I’m guessing!). Then staying awake.
I think your instincts about the American man were correct. He could’ve just been a friendly guy who wanted to hang out, but why was he pushing you to leave an important conference and what was his issue with you driving? Red flags!
Yes, the repeated desire for me not to be driving, the desire to separate me from the herd and then wanting to get me a drink without me seeing it being poured? Too many echoes of the guy who drugged me. Yes, the 159. It felt like a miracle to finally get safe.
I’ve just summarised your piece to my husband (who is one of the good guys). He was horrified - predators, he said. We know that bus route well because before I came to Glasgow to live with him, I lived on Brixton Hill. It’s a long ride to SW16. But well done you for keeping it together - you really did save yourself there.
As for a guy getting you a drink - the 1990s was a more innocent time. It would’ve been nice to be asked for a drink by a handsome stranger. The times I did similar things which always turned out well. But it now makes me wonder if this creepy French guy was even lost at all when he saw you.
Rode my motorcycle up to Crater Lake on a trip leaving Canada for Texas in 1978. By the time I reached the top the Sun was setting. It was cold, dark, lifeless. I didn't stay long. Glad it was a respite for you, though.
I watched the BBC Pelicot interview awhile back. It has stayed with me. What an extraordinary person.
French predator escape. So sorry to hear it. Terrifying. Heart breaking. When the writing is of such high quality it really does stand a chance of changing minds. Keep on telling the story
What a terrifying ordeal! TG, you saved yourself. You were able to listen to your mind's danger signals. Thank you for sharing your experience with us.
My father was an interesting man who had interesting ideas and a pragmatic view of life. He was born in 1900, and by the time I was 14, he was 66. Most people who saw us together thought he was my grandfather. Once I entered high school, he began speaking to me about dating boys and issuing what I considered odd snippets of advice. Those snippets were warnings that sank into my subconscious because of the serious tone of his voice and emerged at various times throughout the years.
Never agree to meet a stranger alone in an unfamiliar place. Blind dates are a definite NO unless you go with a group of reliable friends and meet at a public place.
Never go on a date without cab fare. You never know when you might want to leave the party or dinner. Never invite a stranger into your home or give your address.
Never allow anyone, male or female, to handle/watch your drink while you go to the restroom. Take it with you or discard it. Intoxicated friends cannot be trusted to protect you from harm.
Whenever possible, order an unopened bottle or can of soda, etc. If you're at a party where a punch bowl is the only beverage available, choose tap water that you get yourself or be thirsty. You never know what an idiot has used to spike the punch.
Keep an eye on the mirror behind the bar for surreptitious movements over drinks. The seemingly innocent act of sliding a glass your way with a hand over the top is not always innocent at all. It's very easy to drop something into a drink this way. Err on the side of caution.
There were more of these tidbits that Pop shared with me over the years, and many times, keeping an eye out saved my friends and me from predators.
I'll never forget the end-of-term party a college professor gave for us college seniors at her apartment. One of the idiotic attendees spiked the punch with LSD as a joke. I opted for a bottle of soda. The next day, the phone was constantly ringing as friends communicated stories of hallucinations and other effects of this joke. The professor was almost arrested and lost her job because of the incident. The poor lady had no idea that anything was amiss until the police showed up, put her in handcuffs, and subjected her to an interrogation. At least they couldn't charge her with contributing to the delinquency of minors because the legal drinking age was 18, and the attendees were all adults over 21. They eventually discovered the culprit, and he found himself with fewer friends and a criminal record.
If you're ever at a party, restaurant, or pub and see someone dropping something into an unattended drink, do the right thing. Tell the potential victim or someone in authority. Of course, if you are unable to say something, do the next best thing: act clumsy and knock the drink over. Be the busybody; it may save someone's future.
I wish I’d had your father. I think both my parents were extremely naive about the world. No warnings were issued. My mum even said ‘sleep with as many people as you can, have fun’, which was terrible advice (and no, I am a picky person by nature). I have served punch at parties. I have been trusting to the point of gullible.
A girl I knew as a teen had her drink spiked with LSD and had a such a bad experience she lost her mind and ended up being committed. In the remaining years I lived in that town, she never recovered. Spiking drinks can truly ruin lives.
My blood boiled when I read the article about the rape academies when it broke. I'm so glad you trusted your intuition and safely got yourself home. In my youth I had so many encounters that could have been much worse and now I'll teach my daughter what to watch out for. When did you live in Berkeley? I'd love to hear what your "old haunts" were. It's my hometown!
Wow. Thank goodness you were lucky. This world is getting sadder by the day. What is it that makes men behave like this? I just don't understand it. Now I'm going to go outside and stare at squirrels.
A constant message of my teenage years was to never let a drink out of my sight, amongst a million other warnings. I used to think things would get better, that the boys I grew up with wouldn't turn into the creeps I was lectured about. Yet here we are..
It took me 40 years to figure out what happened to me when I was 15. Dealing with who did it...that is going to take the rest of my life to figure out. I would almost rather not know.
Utterly horrifying. I unfortunately know from my own experience that rape drugs have been around for a few decades. It took me a long time to realise that was what had happened to me in the 90s. It is beyond my comprehension that this practice has continued to grow, and, dare I say it, as women have become more guarded, the perpetrators have narrowed down their choice of victim to those of whom they have already gained trust (wifes/girlfriends/dates). And before it's pointed out to me, I know it's not ALL men, but it's ENOUGH men to make this world feel even more perilous! I would add that it's a relief to get to my 60s, but then I read Gisele's book, and realised that I'll never feel completely safe. Isn't that a sad state of affairs?
Thank you for sharing your story. I've never written down my account, nor have I shared this before today, so thank you. The shame is leaving, so perhaps it's making room for anger and activism...
Yes, the shame is not on us but on them. We must, if we feel able, speak openly, tell our stories, and ensure the shame lands where it is due. Thank you for sharing this glimpse of your experience here, Carolyn.
I have a very small voice, Ros. But this, and how (almost) unutterably horrific for you, is why I am shouting as loudly as I can with my small voice. Yes, in horror. Yes in support. But most of all, to us who have been and still are silent. And by us, I mean men.
And thank you for your courage and strength in sharing your story.
That story was harrowing, Ros. I’m so glad you were able to get away from that guy. This rape academy thing, on the heels of the Pelicot case, disturbs me so deeply. I don’t even know what else to say.
Omg. Terrifying. And this whole world of sick fuckers is incomprehensible. But unfortunately we need to know about it to try to make for safety, for ourselves, our daughters, and all women. It’s so disgusting that these cretins get birthed by us, and then become monsters. I wonder if they were threatened with castration whether that would be a deterrent, because obviously they have no moral compass. Glad you escaped one close call, and listened to your intuition on the other one. Jeez. What a world. I need a huge dose of nature, exercise, birdsong, Tonglen, and maybe journal writing to wipe off the slime from allowing this in.
I’m so sorry, Julie. I seriously wondered about writing about it, but it’s been haunting me, and it felt necessary somehow. The need for a nature cleanse is why I led with the image of Crater Lake.
I understand, and I have the tools, a mature practice, that will support me in regulating my nervous system.
I was compelled to read this even though I feel so in shock about the fact this Motherless site exists at all; and at all the things that have happened recently.
It’s bringing up old memories for me, not as serious as yours but still not acceptable behaviour. Having read this, I am beginning to think I will have to write too.
Maybe the writing of it will allow me to more fully accept what happened and stop me blaming myself for not saying no clearly enough. Because quite clearly, a ‘no’ doesn’t mean anything to some men.
This is all making me nauseous. Everytime I read about anything like this, I just want to throw up.
Thank you Ros for your courage in writing this, and in such a well-written piece too.
Thank you, Jane. For a long time I have thought about writing about my drink being spiked. It is a planned chapter in the memoir I’m writing. I have tried several times to write about it, and failed. Finding out about the Motherless site brought it to the fore, and I finally found a route in. Write yours, too, if you can. I think it might help. I am glad to have finally expressed that night in words. It’s like an exorcism.
What a terrifying story, all the more so for it being in central London surrounded by people. I commend you for getting away and onto the 159 bus (I’m guessing!). Then staying awake.
I think your instincts about the American man were correct. He could’ve just been a friendly guy who wanted to hang out, but why was he pushing you to leave an important conference and what was his issue with you driving? Red flags!
Yes, the repeated desire for me not to be driving, the desire to separate me from the herd and then wanting to get me a drink without me seeing it being poured? Too many echoes of the guy who drugged me. Yes, the 159. It felt like a miracle to finally get safe.
I’ve just summarised your piece to my husband (who is one of the good guys). He was horrified - predators, he said. We know that bus route well because before I came to Glasgow to live with him, I lived on Brixton Hill. It’s a long ride to SW16. But well done you for keeping it together - you really did save yourself there.
As for a guy getting you a drink - the 1990s was a more innocent time. It would’ve been nice to be asked for a drink by a handsome stranger. The times I did similar things which always turned out well. But it now makes me wonder if this creepy French guy was even lost at all when he saw you.
Yeah, I don’t think he was lost. He targeted me from the start. This was always his plan.
Rode my motorcycle up to Crater Lake on a trip leaving Canada for Texas in 1978. By the time I reached the top the Sun was setting. It was cold, dark, lifeless. I didn't stay long. Glad it was a respite for you, though.
I watched the BBC Pelicot interview awhile back. It has stayed with me. What an extraordinary person.
French predator escape. So sorry to hear it. Terrifying. Heart breaking. When the writing is of such high quality it really does stand a chance of changing minds. Keep on telling the story
What a terrifying ordeal! TG, you saved yourself. You were able to listen to your mind's danger signals. Thank you for sharing your experience with us.
My father was an interesting man who had interesting ideas and a pragmatic view of life. He was born in 1900, and by the time I was 14, he was 66. Most people who saw us together thought he was my grandfather. Once I entered high school, he began speaking to me about dating boys and issuing what I considered odd snippets of advice. Those snippets were warnings that sank into my subconscious because of the serious tone of his voice and emerged at various times throughout the years.
Never agree to meet a stranger alone in an unfamiliar place. Blind dates are a definite NO unless you go with a group of reliable friends and meet at a public place.
Never go on a date without cab fare. You never know when you might want to leave the party or dinner. Never invite a stranger into your home or give your address.
Never allow anyone, male or female, to handle/watch your drink while you go to the restroom. Take it with you or discard it. Intoxicated friends cannot be trusted to protect you from harm.
Whenever possible, order an unopened bottle or can of soda, etc. If you're at a party where a punch bowl is the only beverage available, choose tap water that you get yourself or be thirsty. You never know what an idiot has used to spike the punch.
Keep an eye on the mirror behind the bar for surreptitious movements over drinks. The seemingly innocent act of sliding a glass your way with a hand over the top is not always innocent at all. It's very easy to drop something into a drink this way. Err on the side of caution.
There were more of these tidbits that Pop shared with me over the years, and many times, keeping an eye out saved my friends and me from predators.
I'll never forget the end-of-term party a college professor gave for us college seniors at her apartment. One of the idiotic attendees spiked the punch with LSD as a joke. I opted for a bottle of soda. The next day, the phone was constantly ringing as friends communicated stories of hallucinations and other effects of this joke. The professor was almost arrested and lost her job because of the incident. The poor lady had no idea that anything was amiss until the police showed up, put her in handcuffs, and subjected her to an interrogation. At least they couldn't charge her with contributing to the delinquency of minors because the legal drinking age was 18, and the attendees were all adults over 21. They eventually discovered the culprit, and he found himself with fewer friends and a criminal record.
If you're ever at a party, restaurant, or pub and see someone dropping something into an unattended drink, do the right thing. Tell the potential victim or someone in authority. Of course, if you are unable to say something, do the next best thing: act clumsy and knock the drink over. Be the busybody; it may save someone's future.
I wish I’d had your father. I think both my parents were extremely naive about the world. No warnings were issued. My mum even said ‘sleep with as many people as you can, have fun’, which was terrible advice (and no, I am a picky person by nature). I have served punch at parties. I have been trusting to the point of gullible.
A girl I knew as a teen had her drink spiked with LSD and had a such a bad experience she lost her mind and ended up being committed. In the remaining years I lived in that town, she never recovered. Spiking drinks can truly ruin lives.
My blood boiled when I read the article about the rape academies when it broke. I'm so glad you trusted your intuition and safely got yourself home. In my youth I had so many encounters that could have been much worse and now I'll teach my daughter what to watch out for. When did you live in Berkeley? I'd love to hear what your "old haunts" were. It's my hometown!
Wow. Thank goodness you were lucky. This world is getting sadder by the day. What is it that makes men behave like this? I just don't understand it. Now I'm going to go outside and stare at squirrels.
I needed to find some light at the end. I struggled to find it. The squirrels will supply it. Squirrels are wonderful that way.
There are very special squirrels at Crater Lake. I remember them.
So very true! 🐿
I'm so sorry this happened to you.
A constant message of my teenage years was to never let a drink out of my sight, amongst a million other warnings. I used to think things would get better, that the boys I grew up with wouldn't turn into the creeps I was lectured about. Yet here we are..
It took me 40 years to figure out what happened to me when I was 15. Dealing with who did it...that is going to take the rest of my life to figure out. I would almost rather not know.
Utterly horrifying. I unfortunately know from my own experience that rape drugs have been around for a few decades. It took me a long time to realise that was what had happened to me in the 90s. It is beyond my comprehension that this practice has continued to grow, and, dare I say it, as women have become more guarded, the perpetrators have narrowed down their choice of victim to those of whom they have already gained trust (wifes/girlfriends/dates). And before it's pointed out to me, I know it's not ALL men, but it's ENOUGH men to make this world feel even more perilous! I would add that it's a relief to get to my 60s, but then I read Gisele's book, and realised that I'll never feel completely safe. Isn't that a sad state of affairs?
Thank you for sharing your story. I've never written down my account, nor have I shared this before today, so thank you. The shame is leaving, so perhaps it's making room for anger and activism...
Yes, the shame is not on us but on them. We must, if we feel able, speak openly, tell our stories, and ensure the shame lands where it is due. Thank you for sharing this glimpse of your experience here, Carolyn.
Harrowing to read your experience. It’s so frightening being a woman; all of us have at least one grizzly tale. And that shouldn’t be normal.
Thank you for your writing. May your work reach more people.
Thank you.
I have a very small voice, Ros. But this, and how (almost) unutterably horrific for you, is why I am shouting as loudly as I can with my small voice. Yes, in horror. Yes in support. But most of all, to us who have been and still are silent. And by us, I mean men.
And thank you for your courage and strength in sharing your story.
That story was harrowing, Ros. I’m so glad you were able to get away from that guy. This rape academy thing, on the heels of the Pelicot case, disturbs me so deeply. I don’t even know what else to say.
Thank you for sharing, and for allowing us to be part of your journey of healing.
Frown emoji
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