The incident that changed everything was on a Sunday night. The evening started out fine, we had a drink, we smoked some pot, we hung out chatting and a while later we started kissing. Suddenly, it was like he became a different person. He was super angry, almost frenzied and disassociated. I distinctly remember the jarring sense of suddenly being abruptly shaken out of my reverie. I remember thinking "what the fuck is going on here? What's wrong with him?" This morning, I listened to Lucy DeCoutere on The Current sharing her remarkably similar experience and calling for women to not be afraid to tell their own stories. After much thought, I decided to answer her call.