Roofie Madness

Last night something really fucked happened.

Tracy was out with friends of hers from work, and they had to leave to go get someone, so she was sitting at the bar, saving the seats, and this guy starts hitting on her and wouldn’t leave her alone. Meanwhile I was on my way, but driving from Chicago, I wouldn’t be in the area for a couple of hours.

At some point she either got up and went to the restroom, or turned away, or something — she doesn’t remember — and someone, possibly the guy who was hitting on her, put a roofie in her drink. We pieced this together later because at first we had no idea what was going on.

By the time I get there, she’s in the parking lot with her friends, getting violently ill, and is totally incoherent.

Tracy is about a third my size but she can easily drink me under the table. She can hold her alcohol. Her drinking skills were seasoned in the best of England’s pubs. So it made no sense whatsoever that after three weak drinks she’s become incoherently drunk and sick. Her friends had come back and rescued her from the guy who was hitting on her (thank goodness!) but sitting there, she realized she was far more inebriated than she should be, and soon after began getting sick.

By the time I arrived they were in the parking lot and she can’t hold anything down, and she had no idea who I was. We were on the verge of taking her to the hospital but she became hysterical every time we mentioned it — being that she’s without health insurance at the moment, she cannot afford it. So after another 40 minutes of working with her, we finally got her to the point where we could get her home, and at home she started snapping out of it. But she doesn’t remember any of this, and can’t remember me arriving, or even leaving the bar.

That’s when it occurred to me that someone may have drugged her, and that’s when I heard that she’d been alone in the bar and there was some creepy guy hitting on her and not taking “no” for an answer.

So we looked up the effects of a roofie on the Internet and she had all the symptoms. Shivering cold, way too drunk for the amount of alcohol she’d had, numbness in the arms and legs, and a large gap in her memory. It all fit.

Of course we have no proof, and since she refused to go to the hospital, the drug is entirely out of her system now. Though she’s still sick. This is the day after, and she’s upstairs asleep, and I’m at her kitchen table typing this right now.

We plan to go back to that bar and telling them what happened, and hopefully they’ll know who this guy was and we can bring the police in after that. But I don’t know. It may be too late.

Still, this was quite a wake-up call. The more people we tell about this, the more we hear how common it is.

Wow. Fucking wow. I’m blown away.

That was then, this is now…

When I started this Xanga site, I lived in the Dallas area. Now I live in the Chicago area.

The love of my life used to be “Lady Savina,” who’s real name is Tracy. She’s still the love of my life.

We used to live 824 miles from each other, now it’s only 157 miles. We see each other a lot more often, but still not enough.

I used to be a computer technician with dreams of becoming a professional writer. Now I’m a professional writer, photographer, and web master … but I still end up doing tech support.

Tracy used to be my editor, then I became the editor, and now she does techie things — as the Director of Technology at her place of employment.

We still love each other to no end. It’s still erotic fireworks when we’re together. No intensity has been lost at all. The depth of our love increases, which is amazing because neither of us thought it could grow deeper. Well, as it turns out, love is pretty much infinite.

We have been through a lot together. A lot. More than many people have in a long marriage. It’s done nothing but made us stronger in our commitment to end up being together.

I know many of you are now my Facebook friends, and I haven’t lost touch. Thank you for that. For all the ones I’ve slowly lost touch with due to me not being an active Xangaroo, I’m sorry, and I’m sad about it. I used to love you all.

I still do.