Join the club:
“I detest men!” said one woman as soon as we all sat down.
“Me too,” piped up another. “They’re all pigs!”
“Mine cheated on me,” the woman across from me declared. “With my best friend.”
“Yet another woman to join the club!” the president announced.
I wasn’t sure if she meant another woman who had been cheated on or if she meant me, the new woman who had come to check out what a women’s group was all about.
I wasn’t sure I liked it. I didn’t hate men, but I didn’t exactly trust many of them either.
“So what did your man do?” asked the president, sitting back in her chair and looking at me.
“Um…” I began. I wasn’t quite sure how one went about explaining something like this to people you’d never met.
All the women leaned forward expectedly.
“He raped me,” I finished.
There was silence.
I wasn’t sure what that meant but I could suddenly feel that the women in front of me didn’t quite know how to react to that. Being cheated on by your boyfriend or husband was wrong and was one thing, but being raped by someone you had loved and trusted was on a whole other level.
Finally someone broke the silence.
“What a fucking prick!” said the woman whose husband had cheated with her best friend. “I hope his dick falls off.”
I’d finally found my tribe.
I didn’t want pity. I wanted kick-arse chicks who knew that the best way for me to get over everything was to make me laugh and support me.
And now I had them.