I Don't Know If I Was Raped ... It was one of our many nights out. I was all dolled up as we did when we went out. My hard partying sister invited us to another if her impromptu drink ups and Ofcourse, one does not decline an invitation for free food, good music, friends and family. And most importantly, alcohol. That became my nemesis which l hold a great fear and respect for now-alcohol. Tyrone* was an old friend. We had grown up together in a small town in Zimbabwe. He had been in my sisters class at primary school and he had migrated to the UK at some point in his teenage years. My family had already moved and settled in to #life in the UK- a #life that was normal and relatively successful by all accounts. I would see Tyrone at different intervals throughout the next few years. Usually in bars, clubs, mutual friends' weddings or birthday celebrations. He was a familiar face and we would always say hello. He was much closer to my sister than l- but being the type of person who gives love freely and holds relationships in high esteem, l would make casual conversation and move on until our next unexpected meeting. Eventually, after about 10 years of being acquaintances, he requested my friendship in Facebook and I accepted. I want it to be clear that I accepted his friendship based on him being familiar to me. We were not particularly 'friends' but we were very familiar with each other. It came by surprise when I got a message from him asking me out on a date. On Facebook! (Did somebody say '21st century lame ass dudes?'- l agree!). Ofcourse I chastised and moked him ridiculously about it until he got my number from a mutual friend (who I still have not figured out yet). Unfortunately, I answered that first call and we became friends. That was my first mistake. We spoke on the phone quite frequently. I must admit that the conversations were very easy. We had a lot- too much, in common. We spoke about our days in Zimbabwe, our lives in the UK, our faith (which was very different) and Ofcourse any plans we had for the future. It was the summer of 2011 that he asked me to make it official. I wish I could say it was romantic and expected but it wasn't. It was after a string if those 'hey how was yo day' type of text messages that he threw in a 'can you be my girlfriend?' I atypically slaughtered him for that weak attempt, laughed about with my sister and friends and accepted an 'lm sorry' date from him. It was in this date that he asked me out and we became official. I told my friends and a few family members that after 5 years of being a celibate God fearing Christian, I finally let my holy guard down and was willing to try love. They were naturally, overjoyed that at 26, l was finally dating/courting. Being that our relationship started at a point where I was admittedly going through a 'sexual transition', l was not ready to enter into an intimate relationship with him. He knew this as we discussed it at length during our friendship. U fortunately, l learnt one day that he didn't respect nor care too much about my growth process. So that night we went to my sisters' drink up was supposed to be normal. We were supposed to go out, have a few drinks, a bit of banter and food, then head back home. It is here that I will confess what I believe has only ever been my only mistake in this situation. I stupidly used to allow him to spend the night at my house. He did this quite frequently and for two whole months it seemed to work. We kissed and touched but l still was not ready to take the relationship deeper. Kissing, touching and laying next to each other was what I wanted, needed and liked. I seemed to have it all that point. At the drink up his best friend (who doubles up as my sister in law and my sisters' best friend too) made a remark about me "not looking happy". She was right. I wasn't. I wasn't happy with the course his #life was taking. He wasn't a 'go getter' like me. He didn't even have money to buy me Nando's one night. He had just started UNI at the age of 30 and the prospect of him having to go through 10 years of education and training until employment left me feeling uneasy. I had graduated at 21 and had become a full time teacher by 23. He just didn't match up to my very normal (not high or low!) expectations. He also wasn't very intelligent. I learnt that very early in in the relationship. I like to sh*t talk regularly but l also like deep intellectual conversations which stimulate my mind and leave me with more questions than answers. I guess it's because I am we'll educated and I am a great educator- it's a just have in my #life partner. And he definitely did not have it. As a result of all the above plus more, l had made up my mind that I was going to leave and move on that night. I guess it showed in my body language and we left the party early. We got home. I was tipsy. I got changed quickly. Went to my bed. Went to sleep. Woke up to him kissing me. Then blacked out. Woke up to him f***ing me. Then I blacked out. Tried screaming STOP but whispered it instead. Friend pulling him off me. Then blacked out again. What happened the rest of that night, I do not really remember. When I woke up that morning l knew that l had not been drunk that night. Two glasses of Rose do not make a regular drinker black out ok? I think I asked him what happened and his reply was "I feel like I took advantage of you last night. I'm sorry". Stupidly, l just smiled and said 'its ok'. That was his first and only admission of guilt. Any subsequent requests for him to help me understand these flashbacks I was having were met with disdain, denial, accusation and he would always, always brush me off. I hated him a thousand times more than I ever liked him. I never knew what it felt like to be a victim of sexual a***e. I grew up with a protective father who made me cherish my womanhood. I only ever had consensual sex and I have never blacked out during sex before- there is no man who is King Kong in bed who will knock you out with his manhood (if there then lucky you!). To this day I still don't have answers. The hardest thing has been trying to talk about this with my friends and family who were there through out the whole courtship and relationship. It turns out that when you are mistreated in a relationship that involves more than one person, you will rarely get the justice you deserve. Take, for example, pre-mentioned sister in law, who responded to my sober story with "you can't make a man sleep in your bed and not have sex with you!" Right before she told me that "God is with you. Just pray about it!" I decided that day not to talk about it again to anybody. I was the victim. I needed answers. I needed to know that I was understood. But that never happened. I saw him last night for the first time since we broke up. I know today that I still hate him with the sane passion and vigour that I did when those flashbacks first started. He tried to talk to me and l calmly said "I do not communicate with rapists". No conversation, a slight unconvincing look of self pity, then he turned and walked away. I hope to God l never see him again. Ever. One day I will heal. One day I will know exactly what happened. What I will never do though, is blame myself for what he did. Yes- I shouldn't have let him sleep in my bed that night. Or at all some might say. But what about my human rights? What about my right to say who does and doesn't have access to my pussy? What about my right to drink alcohol responsibly without worrying if my boyfriend is going to spike it? What about my right to tell my story and have a comforting ear listen to me? I have rights that where definitely violated and I unapologetically will always know "I do not know if I was raped". But my heart, my spirit, my soul, and my body (which bled a little that morning after 5 years if celibacy) know what happened. One day I will accord the truth. Writing about has helped me walk through that part of my #life and begin to deal with it. I am waiting to see a therapist and l am waiting to know what I already know. I still believe in love. I still like men (I like f***ing ok!). I also like being respected and protected by the person I choose to spend a night or a #life time with. It's my body and its my choice. I hope none of you ever know what it feels like to NOT KNOW if you had sex or not! So I sit here writing this piece with his ugly soul edged in the creases of my mind until the day I choose to let him out. I want to hate him more and more everyday but I can't. He took something big out of me and l simply cannot let him take anything else. So let me sip my tea, watch a movie and fantasise about the love I have only ever seen in movies. Let me live. #TNM