PSA: Roofies still in the hiz-ouse

A tween in early 90s California, I was subjected to the horrors of DARE; that was before the hypocrites that ran my high-school acknowledged that DARE was about as effective as viagra for a eunuch and jettisoned it.

So, while I had heard of roofies, it certainly seemed remote from my little upper middle-class Santa Monica milieu. Little did I realize the troubled waters I was embarking upon when I left work Friday evening to welcome an old friend back to New York, the inestimable Stacey Garratt. That’s right, during the course of our evening of hard drinking at the Hi-Fi, someone slipped my girlfriend a dose of Rohypnol.

On some level, I wonder if I was insufficiently clingy over the course of the evening. If I had been more so, would the asshole who dosed her have realized that s/he had little chance of bringing my girlfriend home? Or was she dosed by accident… it having been meant for another? A group of sailors on leave for Fleet Week took over the other half of our table later in the evening. Amongst their number was a female sailor, who was sitting next to my girlfriend at various points in the evening. Perhaps the dose was meant for her? Or, really, another of the other hard-drinking ladies that were in the midst of laying me low?

The hilarious part, however, was the next morning. My girlfriend and I, being of the predatory sort, brought home a lovely young lady and had our way with her. Only, when my girlfriend woke up Saturday morning to discover the guest in our bed, she was very surprised. (And, lest you were about to get self-righteous, a) the guest had not been dosed and b) we had brought this particular guest home with us before, so my girlfriend was not distressed by her presence per se.) Hilarious to me, anyway. My girlfriend spent all day Saturday and half of Sunday unable to eat and suffering from intense gastrointestinal distress. And, to all those who wonder, “didn’t you notice anything amiss?”, I would point out that I did remark to my girlfriend that she seemed a little drunk – noteworthy considering she has a higher tolerance than I and we had consumed the same amount of alcohol – but I dismissed the thought moments after mentioning it. Uncharacteristic of her? Maybe. Was she belligerent, dramatic or inappropriate? No.

In conclusion, in case you didn’t realize, roofies (and the people who use them on the unwitting) suck. Threesomes, on the other hand, rock… as does remembering them. So here’s a big FUCK YOU to the asshole who made my girlfriend not remember the awesome time we had Friday night.

I’m glad to hear, however, that someone’s working on a Batman-worthy remedy to the problem.