I was a top chick lit author who believed in true love. Then I was date raped...
My p rofessional life had the gloss of a feel-good netflix series. a successful author in my early 30s, my speciality, a childhood dream c ome t rue, w as r omantic fiction — frothy page-turners that became hits.
all my heroines were in control of their d estiny, w orked i n l ovely j obs a nd led sparkling lives in idyllic english villages, before meeting fabulous men withwhomtheycouldlivehappilyever after.
But t hen i w as r aped w hile o n a d ate in 2018. My attack triggered a traumatic chain of events, and led me to
abandonmychicklitbestsellerstobegin w ork o n a t hriller a bout a s exual assault survivor.
i f elt c ompelled t o u se m y e xperience in print. it was my way of coming to
terms with what happened to me when friends, and even the justice s ystem, could not help.
and w hile i ’ll a lways b elieve i n h appy e ndings, i’ve also learnt how important it is to recognise when things are wrong — and try to change them.
Before the night i was raped, my love life was still far from the happy world i was writing about. i had been single for years. i’d had a couple of relationshipsfromdatingapps,butthey hadn’t been great.
oneguycameonstrongandlostinterest j ust a s f ast. a nother w anted a ‘friendswithbenefits’arrangementwhile i h ad d eveloped f eelings f or h im. Months later, we were chatting and it became obvious he still didn’t even know my surname. i was nothing to him. Devastated, i walked away.
But then, during winter 2018, i met s omeone online. He was good-looking and my type. There was a lot of back and forth. one of my books was out and he sweetly read it.
We’d been chatting for two weeks when w e a greed t o m eet. i s uggested a pub n ear m e. i d idn’t t ell a nyone w here i was going, as i’ve always assumed i can take care of myself.
When we met i wasn’t disappointed — he was gorgeous. We talked about our j obs a nd h ow h e w anted t o c hange career. H e m entioned h e w anted t o g o vegan, l ike m e. a ll o f m y d efences were down, of course they were. He seemed perfect.
He’d b ought t he f irst r ound a nd i h ad m y u sual g lass o f r ed w ine. i ordered a second, then went to the loo.
i suspect it was then that he put something in my drink. When i
returned and sipped my wine, i began to feel drunk and strange.
Was it because i hadn’t eaten? i don’t think so. i know mytolerance for alcohol andwhile i’m not a heavy drinker, i would never be out of control
after t wo g lasses o f w ine. e ven s o, i felt disoriented.
My date saw i was ‘unwell’ and suggested he call a taxi. He offered t o e scort m e. i a greed a s i assumed he was just trying to help.Whenwegottothetaxi,i couldn’t stand properly.
When we reached my home he got out, put an arm around me
and s wiftly h anded t he d river t wo notes. as i watched him, i had a moment of clarity when i told myself, ‘He’s done this before.’
He walked inside with me, and after he’d closed the door things became blurry. i don’t remember anything after that, but when i woke t he n ext m orning, i h ad t he overwhelming sensation that something awful had happened.
My clothes were on the floor, and as i took in the sensations i felt in my body, it was obvious i’d
had sex. lying beside me, he said he had to go and disappeared before i’d properly woken up, leaving me alone and confused.
as i lay there, flashes of the night before came back. The moment when he’d pulled off my
top, a f leeting s econd o f u s n aked in bed together, then him on top
of me. But it was hazy and there were a lot of blanks. i felt uneasy.
What happened? What else did we do? i racked my brain but the memories wouldn’t shake loose. i knew we’d had sex but it felt like i hadn’t consciously been part of
it. The thought hit me: there was no way i was able to consent — this was rape.
still in bed and in an absolute panic, i texted a male friend
explaining what had happened. The reply was dismissive: ‘you’ve done what thousands of other women have done. Gone out, got drunk and had sex.’
While i now see this as a bleak misogynistic r eaction, a t t he t ime he c onfirmed i t w as m y f ault. s o iburied my feelings because, in all honesty, i felt ashamed.
My d ate s ent m e a t ext t hat d ay, asking i f i w as o K, w ith a n ervous emoji.istupidlyrepliedthatiwas fine.
Thatresponsemeantnoone,and certainly not the police, would ever believe what i’m c onvinced happened.
i never heard from him again. My f eelings w ere t ortured a bout that night. i’m not someone who has one-night stands, but was it possible i’d had consensual sex with him?
Hopelessly confused, i asked myself if maybe the situation wasn’t that bad — perhaps i was overreacting.
Gradually, i b ecame m ore u pset and those feelings turned into anger. i couldn’t stop wondering, what d id h e p ut i n m y d rink? H ow had i got so ‘drunk’?
Then i came across a youTube video of a woman describing how her d ate h ad s piked h er d rink w ith
rohypnol, a lso k nown a s t he d aterape drug. as i listened to her encounter, she could have been talking about my experience.
i s tarted d igging o nline a nd w as horrified t o d iscover j ust h ow e asy it i s t o b uy t he c lass C d rug. T here are thousands of sites promoting its u se t o t ake a dvantage o f w omen
— i t l eaves y our s ystem s o q uickly it’s nigh on impossible to prove it was ever there.
THis i s w hy i ’m m aking a p rivate a nd u psetting experience public. i want other women using a pps a nd m eeting s trangers to b e a ware o f h ow e asily t his c an
h appen — and to know they can and should speak out against it.
My r easoning i s t he m ore s ilent i am, the more complicit i am. s aying nothing would only serve t o p erpetuate a nd n ormalise this behaviour.
i was still working on romcoms in the months after the incident, but i felt a bit of a hypocrite
writing about nice guys. not that they don’t exist. But there was another story inside me and i wanted to tell it. There was a lot of anger in me.
instead of therapy, writing about a c haracter w ho i s a s exual assault survivor has helped me mentally f ile a way t he e xperience. it took me to a dark place — but ultimately it was cathartic.
now i’m a lot more vigilant about w ho i m eet. i ’d r ather f orge a genuine connection in real life than a v irtual o ne w ith a s tranger when his intentions are unclear.
recently i w as r unning l ate f or a date. The guy i was meeting asked if i wanted him to get me a drink. absolutely not.
But i know you can find a nice guy — after all, i write about them.
not a ll m en a re t hreatening, b ut it’s important to be aware.