Viagra Rape: An Open Letter to My Ex-boyfriend
I have vacillated between doing something and doing nothing. I have anguished over whether my doing something will hurt you or your business; and ultimately whether I want to be the cause of hurting you on any level.
What seems clear is that you have to understand what you did to me was wrong. I know you have wronged other women and perhaps that is all you know how to do. But I am not going to take this sitting down. I am going to do this: I am going to publicly humiliate you and I am going to hope you never do to any other girl or woman what you did to me.
It has been six months and I haven’t moved on. I am moving on. From this day forward, after calling you out publicly for what you have done to me, I am moving on. I am taking control of my life so that I may move forward and heal the wounds you left in my heart and in my soul — I am healing those as of right now.
When I found the half Viagra pill under my coffee table after you went back to the West Coast my heart raced, my body went numb, and the sting of betrayal battered me from every pore.
An old memory with a horrible sense of loss reappeared from long ago when I was raped. It felt the same. It feels the same.
You raped me.
I feel utterly betrayed. Six months later as I have waited to heal I still feel the way I did that day when the earth stopped holding me in its firm grip. Nothing has changed. It never will. I will heal, but I will never forget the bitter betrayal and I hope you never forget it either.
On Valentine’s Day, I received a gift. No, it wasn’t from you. It arrived in the form of a newspaper report discussing a “Viagra Bill.” Rep. Mary Lou Marzian introduced a bill that would require men who want to use erectile dysfunction drugs, like Viagra, to get a note (and consent) from their wives first.
While the bill was initially meant as a tongue-in-cheek way of pointing out how anti-abortion advocates want to involve the government in people’s bedrooms the “Viagra Bill” aka the “Viagra Informed Consent Bill” has gone viral. Seems it hit a nerve with the public. I know it did for me. The internet has been filling up comments from every perspective — including my own. Consent, informed consent, is the ethical and morally correct thing to do.
But no, you pounded my body for hours at a time, multiple times during those last few days we shared together. I could barely walk, I nearly sliced my finger off when I tried to cook, I could not think straight, I was a complete mess — and for what? You were never going to ejaculate (I know now after doing massive research). And really, as I think back on it, did it even matter to you?
You further humiliated me by taking photos of us having sex. Click, click, click. You couldn’t get enough shots of me on my knees with your Viagra-propped penis in all its fake glory. In hindsight I realize you didn’t include your own face in those photos. Only mine. You’ve done this before, haven’t you?
Our intimate relationship had just begun. I did not know you had erectile dysfunction issues. I did not know you were a habitual liar (although I had begun to question the inconsistencies of your words and actions). You were the man I believed I would spend the rest of my life with. Ha, what a joke. I don’t know how you conned your ex-wife to stay with you for over three decades, but I am happy to have gotten away after a couple of months.
I allowed you into my home, into my heart, into my life and you conned me.
You made me believe I was safe. After all, you were a survivor of child sex abuse too. But no, we are not alike. We are nothing alike. You became what you despised. You’re a liar, a rapist and a sexual predator.
I understand a couple of months after the fact and after thinking about everything that happened before; and how I was getting to re-know you, that it is possible you do not know how to love.
After all if you feel you have never been loved by your parents and you were sexually abused — then maybe you do not know how to love.
I don’t know anymore.
I know you are somewhat lost and it is not up to me to help you find your way. You may never find your way.
Maybe that is the best you can give anyone, again, I don’t know. Maybe sex for you means going for long periods to prove you’re a man. What you did, however, is a far cry from being a man. You showed you are completely irresponsible. If you take a drug to help you with an erectile dysfunction problem, you have to do so in a responsible fashion. It does not mean pound your partner for hours until she cannot walk. Multiple times. Even though you’d told me via your emails and during our phone conversations those words every woman wants to hear: “I love you” — it occurs to me now you never once uttered those words to me during your marathon sessions. I wondered why at the time and now I know why. Again, you do not know how to love. You cannot possibly know how to love.
Had I known you took Viagra (and really I don’t think there’s anything wrong with anyone wanting to take this) — however — had I known you were doing taking this to have sex with me I would have been able to say: “Hey, let’s stop.”
But no, I thought — like a fool — that you would climax and that it would be over within a reasonable amount of time. A reasonable amount of time is approximately 20 minutes of penetration. And, according to my research on the internet for the past six months — even 20 minutes of penetration is said to be “too much.” Hell, 4 minutes of penetration is said to be normal. Hours — that’s not normal and while I wanted to make love to you — I did not want to be physically assaulted.
What happened wasn’t making love. There was no love to it at all. It was anger, wasn’t it? Whatever anger you hold in your empty heart for your mother, your aunt, your ex-wife, your daughter, all the women who work for you whom you have sexually assaulted — that is ultimately what you showed me. Abusive anger.
While you claim you were trying to be honest and transparent in this relationship, in our relationship as opposed to how you had behaved in previous relationships — there were so many things you were hiding. Viagra among them. So many other things I realize now.
I have never been with anyone who has ever used Viagra.
Further I don’t/didn’t know anything (until you did it — and I researched it) about the effects of Viagra.
You can use Viagra without telling a paid professional like a prostitute (which you have in all likelihood done a million times since you told me you have been paying for sex since you were a teenager) — but to use it without telling a woman you are supposed to be in love with — without telling your partner — without telling me — it’s simply not acceptable.
As a woman I did not know what to expect. I did not know you could go on and on — which you did — with no concern whatsoever for me, for my body, for by well-being. None. Nothing. Zero. This is what rape is. No concern for the other party — and you, of all people — to take something from me that I did not give you — when you have had things taken from you without your consent — that you perpetuate the crime, so to speak — I can’t wrap my mind around that and it is why I was and continue to be so appalled and so upset.
In any event, I do not wish you any harm.
I do not wish to add any more burden on what looks to me like a burden-filled existence.
You made me think that your divorce was over — yet you still have attorneys talking to one another.
You fed me a lot of lines. A lot of songs. A lot of lies. I guess, in the end that is all it was.
I can’t even listen to love songs — since you confessed to stealing your lines from them. Seems nothing about you was real. Not what you said, not what you did.
I feel sorry for you. I feel sorry for me.
I feel like a fool for having slipped into a rabbit hole with someone as phony as you. You flash your pretty grin to hide empty words with no meaning behind them. Let’s face it: you’re a con man. You are a psychopath. It took some time for me to let this sink in. And now I know this to be true with certainly. Did I mention your ex-wife told me you were examined at the Mayo Clinic in 2007 and they determined you are a narcissist with antisocial personality disorder?
You know who you are — you should not have done what you did.
I cannot believe you have no conscious.
This thought is terrifying for me to think about. And I believe it to be true. How else could you do the things you do to people? It has to be this.
You are a far cry from “the Flower Guy” you pretended to be and who you told me you were.
And by the way — picking up $10 flowers from the supermarket vendor is not the same as sending someone flowers from a real flower shop — you are sophisticated enough to know the difference.
No doubt you will disparage me, if you haven’t already, as you did with every person in your life. Your ex-wife of 35 years, you call her “crazy.” Maybe she was crazy for marrying you. Maybe she was crazy for having your kid and for taking care of you. And certainly she was crazy because as you said: “Oh, she was my beard.” That’s what you call your wife of 35 years? The mother of your child, of your children, your partner in life — is that all she was to you? And now, of course, she is crazy.
Everyone in your life seems to be crazy. Calling a woman “crazy” is the way men like you assassinate a woman’s character; they way men like you malign and make women seem untrustworthy. Surely if a woman strongly disagrees with you — surely, she must be mentally unstable. Of course, of course, because, surely it can’t be you.
Except that it was you who was threatened to be put away in a psychiatric institution when you were a teenager (I still have your email where you tell me this happened to you); and it was you who suffered from chronic alcoholism, and it was who cheated on your wife (according to what you told me during your entire 35 year marriage); and it was you who did what you did to me.
As much as you may want to believe you’re into self analysis — analyze this: Why is it that anyone who disagrees with your warped perception of life is given a label?
Every person you spoke about was labeled: your brother, your daughter, your step-daughter, the women you pay to have sex with you, the women who work for you whom you take advantage of, even your clients — everyone was labeled something offensive. Because clearly only you matter. Only your feelings count. No one else matters. Not in your world.
And let me not forget to mention that when I spoke with your brother, I discovered to my horror that all our letters, our “love letters,” hundreds of letters written and received when I believed we were in love — weren’t ever really private at all. According to him the “emails” (as he calls them) were accessed by different people who work for you at your business.
Imagine how shocking that was for me to hear. Another lie. Another lie. Another lie. Another deception. Private correspondence you knowingly allowed other people to read while simultaneously assuring me they were being protected with a secret password. You lies continue to pile up. It’s a pretty large stack. Impossible for anyone to lift — except for you — how you carry these from one woman to the other is still a mystery to me.
Well, guess what? They can read this one without bothering to log into your private business account. They can read this one online along with everyone else. If you didn’t bother to keep our correspondence private, I am guessing you needed an audience.
I am giving you an audience now. You used to count the words in our letters. I will save you the trouble. It is 2,253 words and I could easily multiply that by 50 if I were to go into all the other horrible things you did to me while we were together. But, hey, I want people to read this. So here are my 2,253 words.
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2016 Copyright Kirby Sommers
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Kirby Sommers is a writer. She is also the Founder and CEO of LandlordLinks.Net. An internet based business offering renters in New York City options to bypass broker fees.
In 2005 Kirby Sommers founded Katrina Home Drive connecting displaced survivors to new homes and resources across the United States. An early New York Times story can be found here:http://www.nytimes.com/2005/10/16/us/nationalspecial/for-the-needy-a-web-of-matchmakers-offers-help-and-hope.html?_r=1
Ms. Sommers was recently the subject of a Ted Talk given by Justin Constantine on the subject “You Are Stronger Than You Think You Are:http://www.justinconstantine.com/you-are-stronger-than-you-think-you-are/
When not working, writing or taking photos of New York City, Kirby is busy being bold.