Sometimes things happen to you that just don't make sense. You have to take some time to sit back and process just how certain things went down, and what lessons were hidden within the experience.
Wednesday, June 19th, 2013, I had plans to go to an 80s party at a club in Studio City, CA. At another recent event, even though it was a really nice upscale event, I attracted a pretty major creeper: an older guy who followed me around and kept saying THREE different times that I should go home with him. WTF. So after that happened, I knew I needed to be going to events with some kind of friend or escort (I usually try to anyway, but I have gone stag to several events). Since I wasn't sure if I'd know anyone at the 80s party, I knew I'd better bring a guy friend (body guard) with me, because I was going to be doing my Angel Project wearing a fun, colorful, cute outfit. I was excited to have an excuse to wear something crazy and rainbow-colored!
A guy "friend" of mine, whom I'd hung out with a few times before and met at a few red carpet events, had offered to take me to a pre-screening of World War Z earlier that night. I really wanted to see that movie, so I accepted the offer, and also asked him if he'd accompany me to the 80s party after the movie.
Now, I had had a conversation with this guy, prior to him asking me to the movie, about just being friends. In my brain, I'd made it clear, and thought he understood. He'd said that's cool, but still wanted to hangout because he enjoyed my company. I remember him making this comment after the conversation: "I feel like I want something I can't have." Seemed to me like a pretty natural response for a guy to feel that way after he's been declined the opportunity to date me. Maybe I am just too trusting and naive sometimes; I always try to give people a chance. Nevertheless, the plans were set and I was totally stoked about the 80s party and my crazy outfit.
When I met up with the guy, the first thing I noticed was his sweater shirt. It had a rather disturbing-looking skull face with scissors cutting up a peace olive branch. As soon as I saw it, I verbally told him that I thought his shirt looked like a "sign" to me, and I even asked him if I could take a photo of it, which I did. Here is the photo of the guy's shirt that was a clear caution sign from the Universe in my face that this bad guy was wearing!!:
Actual photo I took
So it IS true that you
DO GET SIGNS, you just have to be
PAYING ATTENTION!!!
When we arrived at the 80s party, I went to the bathroom. When I came out, the guy had already ordered TWO tequila shots and set them in front of the chair I'd be sitting in. I told him I didn't want two, but I'd sip on one. I handed the second shot back over to him. I went around the club doing my Angel thing, taking photos with people and telling them what I was doing with my project. Eventually the guy came over to me and asked if I wanted another drink; I saw someone with a beer, and decided a cold beer sounded pretty good right about then, so the dude ordered me a Blue Moon. I drank that, and that's all she wrote. Things got pretty hazy after that.
The next thing I remember is he'd taken me back to his apartment, instead of my car like he was supposed to. I remember just hanging over his toilet throwing up what seemed like nonstop. He came into the bathroom and picked me up off the floor and took me to his bed. I was laying there for a little while totally delirious and feeling so sick. He somehow was already down to his boxers while I was still fully clothed. He started grinding up against my back and kept pulling on my shorts, trying to get into my pants, but I pushed his hands away. Thank God for the outfit I wore that night: I had on very tight shorts as well as tights underneath the shorts, so it wasn't easy for him to get into them. I usually wear Angel dresses; if I had been wearing a dress, this story might have been a lot worse. After I pushed his hands away from my shorts, he went for my top...and like the speed of light, he'd gotten my top off. At that point, I grabbed my top back, and struggled to get out of his bed. I had trouble standing and walking. I somehow staggered to the bathroom, and proceeded to throw up some more. I threw up until I could barely breathe anymore, like I was past dry heaving and almost dying because I was struggling to breathe. I vaguely remember him coming up to me and putting some pill in my hand and telling me to take it, saying it was a "muscle relaxer". He walked out of the bathroom and I put the pill in my pocket; there was no way in hell I was going to take that shit! It's messed up that he tried to make me take some mystery pill when I was in that awful condition and barfing my guts up.
At some point, I decided I was coherent enough to try to demand him to take me back to my car. It worked. I remember standing in front of him, and I was trembling from my lips all the way through my feet and I had goosebumps all over my body, but I felt numb. Despite him begging me to stay and telling me that I'd probably get a DWI, I was determined to get the hell out of his clutches. I had the feeling that if I didn't get out of there, he'd keep trying to get in my pants.
He took me to my car, and I got in, and he left. I felt so relieved to be in my car, but that wasn't the end. I was still pretty messed up. I prayed aloud, asking the Angels to help me get home safely. I was in the middle of Hollywood, and I lived near Santa Monica...so I had a ways to drive unfortunately. Somehow the time has passed so much, it was already about 3:30am, so luckily there was hardly anyone on the roads and most traffic lights were green. I started to drive. I got to the highway, and in my condition, I accidentally took East instead of West without realizing it. As I was driving, I realized something about where I was going didn't look right, and luckily I was in a lane that forced me to exit, so I pulled off to the first parking lot I saw and parked. I took out my phone GPS to see where I was, and realized I'd gone the wrong direction. I was rather devastated about that, since all I wanted so bad was to be home safe, and for the whole night to be over and done with.
Suddenly, without warning, my body began having these full-body episodes of paralysis. I have never experienced anything like that before. It was like I'd been shot by a tranquilizer gun that zoo-keepers use on animals. My whole body went stiff, my hands froze up and my fingers looked all crooked. My head fell against the steering wheel and I just had to sit there in paralysis until it passed. It was scary and bizarre because my mind and eyes worked, but my whole body was frozen stiff. I'm glad the paralysis episodes didn't kick in while I was in the predator's apartment! And I'm glad I was able to safely pull off the road before I became paralyzed. Once the paralysis eased up, I dialed my ex husband in Texas, who was still a good friend. By miracle, he answered. I was shocked he didn't have his cell on silent, since it was like 5:30am in Texas at the time I'd called him. I told him what had happened and how I felt, and he told me that it sounded like I'd been given date-rape drugs. He stayed on the phone with me for an HOUR and 15 minutes while I struggled to get home. I kept having to pull off the highway to let the waves of paralysis pass. But I finally made it home safely, where I spent the next day and a half holed-up in my apartment recovering and barfing more. Now I know why cops and hospitals tell women to not bathe after being raped, because that was my main urge once I got home. I immediately ran a hot bath and got in. The drugs he gave me and the whole experience with him gave me the cold shivers and I felt traumatized. It was like my body was in some sort of shock state.
You may be asking, Why didn't she go to the hospital or call 911? Well...I did call 911, but not until I'd partially recovered at home. I called and had a conversation with the operator about what happened, and got her advice. She said I could go to a hospital and have a date-rape kit done on me, and I'd have to pay for drug testing of my body system before making a police report. I didn't go to the hospital because I've lost faith in them...In January I went to the ER for something, got treated like crap, they didn't help at all, and got billed nearly $8,000 for the visit. I had just gotten most of those insane bills reduced or erased from filling out several patient assistance applications. {You can read the story about my ER visit here:
The ER Visit }
I decided because it was such a grey-area case and I hadn't actually been raped, that I didn't want to deal with it all. I was still grappling with the whole experience. This guy was someone I thought I could trust, ironically he was supposed to be my body guard against other creepers, but he was the main danger all along, a wolf in sheep's clothing. The thought of getting a bunch of rape tests done on me, having to tell a bunch of hospital workers and cops the whole story, having to make a report...all of it just gave me huge amounts of anxiety. It wasn't until several days later that I realized that I was dealing with some level of post traumatic stress about the whole experience...Now I know why so many women who are victimized struggle with reporting the crimes.
While trying to figure out why this happened to me, I grabbed one of my inspirational books, asked God for a message, and opened the book. The passage it showed me was this: "If you want to live as a healer, you must be able to relate to those who are hurting." --I may not have been raped that night, but I certainly can relate now to women who've gone through something similar. I'm one of the lucky ones... I got away. I didn't fully lose consciousness or get raped. By miracle I was able to drive home, even in my jacked up condition. The second passage I read from the same book was this: "Sometimes God will put you in situations that will stretch you and force you to use your faith."
I decided after this incident, it's time for me to move home. I need to be in a city and place where I feel safer. I've reached a level of publicity with my angel project where it's probably not a good idea to stay here...I'm out here all by myself with no definite support network. I can continue my Angel Project in Texas and go from there.
~Mandelyn Reese
6/25/13
-----------------------------------------------
*Updates on "Date Rape Drugged":
--Almost a week after being drugged, I got a text from the culprit because he'd noticed I'd blocked him on Facebook. I took the opportunity to confront him, telling him we weren't friends anymore because I suspected that he'd slipped something in that last beer he brought me, and how messed up it was that he was groping all over me trying to take advantage of me while I was clearly in a near-comatose and violently ill throwing-up state. That clearly1 shot and 1 beer doesn't give a woman that kind of a reaction including episodes of full body paralysis.
--Also, I got a message from a woman I'd met at a meditation meeting after she read my blog. She said that my blog about being date rape drugged inspired her to finally go make a police report that she'd been raped many years ago by a guy she'd thought was her friend. I'm glad that recounting my experience, while scary, actually helped someone else.
*I moved back to Texas on November 24th, 2013 for a year. Then I ended up moving BACK to Los Angeles February 2015.
