Bill Cosby accused of Rape - say it ain't so

so I dont care.

We used to be better.

Perhaps you could explain why your feelings or opinions have any relevance.

In 1969 I met Bill Cosby while working in New York for the late film producer Ray Stark. I was a 21-year-old single woman in the world's most exciting city. He was a 32-year-old internationally known comedian and television star, one of the most likeable and popular entertainers in the business. He asked for my number and I gave it to him.

We began hanging out, took in a movie, watched television and ate pizza and hot dogs in my apartment with my roommate. He was married to his current wife and he acted like a perfect gentleman who didn't come on to either of us, which, I have to admit, made me wonder what his objective was.

One night we were going out to a movie. We agreed to meet at an apartment that he said belonged to a friend of his. I had a terrible headache but didn't want to cancel the evening. He told me he had a miracle cure his doctor had given him that would get rid of the headache. He went into another room and came back with a capsule. I asked a couple of times what it was. Each time he reassured me, asking, "Don't you trust me?" Of course I did. This was Bill Cosby.

For more than 45 years I have tried to recall exactly what happened that night. To this day it remains a blur. I have a vague recollection of feeling like I was floating while walking through Times Square and watching some kind of Japanese samurai movie with him. I don't remember where the theater was nor very much of the evening.

What I do recall, vividly and clearly, is waking up the next morning nude in the bed of his friend's apartment and seeing Cosby wearing a white terrycloth bathrobe and acting as if there was nothing unusual. It was obvious to me that he had had sex with me. I was horrified, embarrassed and ashamed. There was a mirror above the bed, which shocked me further.

After some awkward small talk, I got out of there as fast as I could. Once in the elevator, I broke down crying, which I continued to do as I walked home to my apartment in the east 70s. It never occurred to me to go to the police. It was a different time and "date rape" was a concept that didn't exist. I just kept asking myself over and over in disbelief why this had happened to me. Other than my roommate, I did not discuss that night with anyone for 36 years.

Having come of age in the late 1960s and early 1970s before marrying in the mid 1980s at 37, I certainly have a history. The difference is that any other relationships were consensual ... my encounter with Bill Cosby was most certainly not.

In the years since that night I have crossed paths with Cosby only once, when my husband, a highly successful Oscar-winning film executive and producer, introduced me to him. I was shaking, wondering if he would recognize me by my unusual first name. His reaction spoke volumes. To Bill Cosby, I was just another stranger.

This is the first time I have chosen to speak out about that night. It is also the last time I intend to address it publicly. I have no plans to sue, I don't want or need money. I have no plans for a press conference or for doing any interviews

It never occurred to me to go to the police. It was a different time and "date rape" was a concept that didn't exist

He went into another room and came back with a capsule. I asked a couple of times what it was. Each time he reassured me, asking, "Don't you trust me?" Of course I did. This was Bill Cosby.

After a woman makes the choice to take mystery drugs handed to them by people they dont know or dont know very well I pretty much loose interest in what happens after

Most of us don't give a **** what you think on the subject, but by all means carry on

If you pretty much have lost interest in what has happened, don't bother coming onto this Thread. Because there are people out there that are interested and do care for these ladies to get closure.

BTW for those who noticed I have not been around much. Store #1 has been sucking up a lot of my time of late.

The more you who yak without a lick of evidence to support your stories the more I don't believe you. (sound familiar?)]