Story Sent in by Clarence:
Rose and I were a couple for a little over a year before she had the idea for us to visit New York City together, over a weekend. She had never been, and I had visited only once before. We found an inexpensive place to stay just outside the city, and we made the 10-hour drive together in good humor and with high hopes.
We arrived at the hotel on a Friday night, and made it into the city the following morning. We toured around a bit, and at lunch, she told me, "My friend, Kyle, from college, lives in the city. I'm going to try and contact him."
No problem on my end. I had bought tickets to a show for that night, so as long as nothing interfered with that, I'd be fine.
After lunch, she called Kyle and made arrangements for us to meet him in another part of town. We met up with him over a quick coffee.
He talked a lot about his struggles as an artist and how much he needed money but never looked for a job, and so on. I grew tired of him, and when he offered to show us around his neighborhood, I asked Rose if she'd prefer to catch up with him on her own while I went around to sightsee some more. Rose agreed to that, and promised to meet me at the theatre in a couple hours' time.
Rose didn't show up at the theatre, and her phone went straight to voicemail. Luckily, I was able to sell our tickets (at a bit of a loss) while I kept trying her. Soon, I tried her parents to see if she had perhaps made contact with them. I didn't have Kyle's number, and I was in a panic. I went back down to his neighborhood to look around, but I had no idea where he lived precisely. The only thing I could do was return to our hotel room. I didn't know what to think, but I had a feeling that something awful had happened.
The next day was Sunday. I returned to the city and kept trying Rose. Finally, around one in the afternoon, she called me to ask where I was. I met up with her and found her in the same clothes she had been in the day before. She looked haggard, tired, and not at all herself. Also notable was the fact that she stank of alcohol.
I had a million questions for her, but the first one that I asked was, "Are you okay?"
She said, "No. We need to talk."
I found a nearby Chinese restaurant and we sat down. I ordered both of us something to eat and asked her, "What happened to you?" Was she raped? Was she lost on the streets overnight? Did Kyle try to take advantage of her?
She said, "Kyle and I... we went back to his place, had a few bottles of wine, and... I think we slept together..."
My heart pounded, but no longer with concern. She went on, "...a lot. A lot." She cried and reached out for me, across the table. I didn't take her hand or even move. She continued, "I think he had some friends or roommates there... and they watched us... oh God, Clarence, please..."
I stood up, felt dizzy, then sat back down. She reached for me with both hands. I didn't take them. She sobbed. She said, "I'm sorry" over and over, apologized for missing the play, and babbled on.
It was pathetic, and I was tempted to forgive her, or at least to put it aside until the trip was over and we could talk about it properly, but then she said, "I knew it would happen as soon as we planned the trip."
I asked her, "You knew it would happen?"
"I thought I could resist it, but what scared me was that I didn't want to."
When I stood up that second time, I was no longer dizzy. We hadn't even received our food yet, but with her there, crying her eyes out, I left the restaurant, returned to the hotel, and drove the 10 hours back, by myself. She called me over a hundred times, but I didn't pick up once, and I've never been sure how she made it back home from there. Perhaps Kyle drove her. I hope it was worth it.