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“Good Dudes” & Quaaludes

I know I know, who even goes to 1 OAK?? Younger me CLEARLY didn’t know any better.

Just so everyone is aware, the story I'm about to tell happened years ago. I would loveeeee to say I'm slightly more reformed and a little more particular on who I trust. At the time, I had just moved to Los Angeles and began working for a soccer team. During an away match, I had been invited up to one of our partner's suites where several of our 3rd and 4th string players were also enjoying the match. These guys were all around my age and were relatively new to the city as well, so we instantly clicked. Before the match had even ended, we all made plans to go out to the infamous 1 OAK later that night. I invited a few other girls from the office, and shortly after the match had ended, we were off!

I had never been to 1 OAK before, but white people sure loved to sing songs about it so I figured it was worth a try. I would be lying if I said I wasn't absolutely living for a moment. Skipping the line, drinking free alcohol, and dancing with my friends... I mean who could be mad at that?? It was at this moment that I truly let my guard down and decided to trust a group of people who were frankly borderline strangers to me at this point in time.

One final glass of champagne and we were about to call it a night. Once we got outside, my ears were ringing. I felt a little out of it, but I attributed that to just having been in this club for hours with blaring music and strobe lights. The guys asked if we wanted to go somewhere else, but I was tired so I said no and decided to split an Uber with someone who I will ~affectionately~ call OG Becky. I know we've talked about a Becky in the past, but THIS B*TCH literally takes the cake.

Sooooo I got into the Uber with OGB, and she really wanted to go to Jack in the Box. I wasn't hungry, but when she asked me if it was cool for us to stop on the way, I suddenly realized I couldn't open my mouth. Not even a little bit. I couldn't speak. I was confused, so I just shook my head and she added a stop to our ride. We're in the drive thru line and OGB asks me what I wanted to eat. It took everything in me to whisper "I don't feel okay". She looked at me, made a face, then continued to go on with her order.

Then it hit me. A wave of panic as I tried desperately to open the Uber door. I stumbled and fell onto the gravel surrounding the Jack in the Box drive thru menu. Immediately, I began vomiting in my hair, on my dress... with no control over my body. As this continued, I laid there wondering why this was happening to me. I didn't even drink that much, and I rarely got sick like this from drinking. The only other time I had been anywhere CLOSE to this bad was after ~several~ bottles of wine on an empty stomach. There was even a moment when I was genuinely like "this is it". Either I was going to go to sleep right there or I was going to somehow get up and get back into the Uber.

By the grace of God, I got up and BARELY made it to the Uber before it was about to pull away, leaving me there to fend for myself with OGB happily inside. Once in the car, this girl seriously acted like nothing just happened. Like I hadn't suddenly gotten out of the Uber, disappeared for several minutes, then got back in the car covered in dirt and vomit. I just couldn't believe it. "You want a fry?", she said. LIKE NO B*TCH. I WANT TO KNOW IF YOU WERE REALLY JUST GOING TO LEAVE YOUR SO CALLED FRIEND OUT IN THE LITERAL STREET WHEN SHE CLEARLY WASN'T OKAY.

Eventually, I was dropped off at my apartment. Disgusting and confused, I went right to bed. Despite the events of the night before, I woke up feeling relatively fine, but still confused as to how I had possibly gotten that bad. When I looked at my phone, I saw that my other friend who had gone out with us that night had been blowing me up.

I called her back, and she was pretty much like WTF. I asked her what happened and why she was freaking out. She went on to explain that she had watched one of the guys from the team drop a pill into a glass of champagne, hand it to me, then I drank it. She said, "I swore you saw him do it". Like ummmmm no???? But okay?? At least things started to make sense now.

I wasn't ~that~ drunk. I had been drugged. Drugged by people I trusted, while other people I trusted watched. My initial reaction wasn't even to be mad though. I continued to be friends with the guys who did this to me for a while after that. I even went on to tell SEVERAL people in varying levels of management at the organization. No one else seemed to think it was that big of a deal, so I didn't think to do anything about it.

After telling my best friend, she finally helped me realize that what happened wasn't okay. I had complicated feelings from that point forward because I then knew what happened was wrong, but I had also created deeper friendships with both of the guys since this took place. I didn't want to seem like I was switching up out of nowhere or suddenly crying wolf about a situation from "the past". No one believes women when they expose these behaviors, especially if you're dealing with professional athletes on the other end; so at the time, I decided to keep it quiet and keep it moving.


Years later, I quit that job and started a blog where I relive alllllllllllll the traumas of my past for my loyal readers. So here we are. I was f*cking drugged in the club by my "friends", and it was NOT okay. To the next person who wants to give me something, I prefer weed or expensive house plants. Thanks.




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