Stars Think They Can Do Anything

"I knew when I grew up, I always wanted to be a liar,
and if you're in television, you're lying because you're just pretending
to be yourself much like I'm doing now." ~ John Ritter

I'm going public with something that happened to me in the early 1990s. Some of you won't like it and I'll be attacked for maligning the name of a beloved actor who is dead. But I want people to know that Donald Trump told a truth about celebrity privilege when he bragged:

"I'm automatically attracted to beautiful [women]—I just start kissing them. It's like a magnet. Just kiss. I don't even wait. And when you're a star they let you do it. You can do anything ... Grab them by the pussy. You can do anything."

Some male celebs think it's okay to behave a certain way. When it happened to me, I was stunned and afraid to put the actor in his place because of who he was. I now wish I had handled it differently. I've been stalked, harassed, and sexually assaulted by men, with a few being male celebrities. Here's the story of one of them.

I was in my early 30s. I'd occasionally go to Stanley's, a bar in Sherman Oaks. One evening, John Ritter was there with his brother, Tom. It was their version of a bachelor party, but it was just the two of them out drinking. Tom was getting married that weekend. Several attractive women were laughing and drinking with them. John saw me and invited me to sit next to him. He asked me about myself and what I do. I said I'm a writer. He asked if I had a business card. I did. And gave it to him.

We chatted about his TV show, "Hearts Afire." Everything was pleasant and fun. Tom invited me to come to his wedding and dinner party in Burbank that weekend. I thought it was strange to invite a total stranger, but said, "Sure." About an hour later, John leaned into me as if to whisper something in my ear. Instead, he put his tongue (!) in my ear and started licking. Similar to Donald Trump, John Ritter thought because he was a star, he could "do anything."

I was disgusted. Humiliated. Frozen in place. I didn't know what to do. I felt violated. How do you handle a moment like that? I wanted to slap him across the face and call him out and yet, he was John Ritter. Was I overreacting? Was I being a prude? All these questions ran through my mind.

When women are in compromising positions, we are taught to blame ourselves. We are conditioned to think we've done something wrong or brought it on ourselves or deserved it. I didn't want to appear like a bitch. Imagine that. He was assaulting me and I was worried about how I'd be perceived!

In hindsight, I can imagine how Bill Cosby's victims felt. By no means am I comparing my experience to theirs. I wasn't drugged or raped. But a sexual violation occurred nonetheless.

After what seemed an eternity, he stopped. I wiped my ear with a napkin. Now what? I shifted my body away from him for the rest of the evening. When it was time to leave, he scribbled his studio number down on a piece of paper and invited me to come for a tour of the set.

John took my hand, kissed it, and said he hoped to see me again. I smiled awkwardly and left. Not long after I got home, my intercom buzzed. I was living in a second floor "junior one bedroom" (essentially a studio) apartment in a building on Kling Street, North Hollywood. I asked who it was. It was John Ritter. (Did he follow me home? My address was on my business card back then. I know better now.) I told him it was late and he should go home. He begged to come up to talk. I didn't know what do.

Again, this was John Ritter. A celebrity. I buzzed him up. He was shit-faced. I should also mention he was still married to his first wife, Nancy Morgan. I found out later that he cheated on her a lot. Anyway, I made coffee and we sat on my thrift store loveseat. He wanted to have sex. I said no. Then he leaned in and tried to kiss me. I put my hand on his chest to stop him. I wanted to tell him to leave, but he was drunk. I didn't know what he might do. So we talked.

At the time I had written an early draft of my musical about POE. He was duly impressed. John saw my piano and asked me to play something. I said no, I didn't want to disturb neighbors. We talked some more. I told him that no matter how attractive or famous he was, the fact that he was married was a deal-breaker for me. Plus my days of one-night stands were over. He said he respected that I wasn’t a star-fucker. I worked up the nerve to tell him that he had crossed a line, first with what he did to me at the bar, and second by stalking me and showing up at 2:00am. He cried and apologized.

I suggested he go home to his wife and kids. I said I thought it best that I not go to Tom’s wedding in light of what happened. John insisted I go, so as not to insult his brother.

The weekend came and I decided to go to the wedding. Part of me wanted to out John to his wife, although I’m sure she knew he was a philanderer. But as John introduced us, he gave me a steady look. I realized hurting her would serve no purpose. John asked if I was going to the party. I hesitated. Nancy asked how I knew John. I stuttered that Tom had invited me at the "bachelor party." She relaxed. I said I felt strange going since I wasn’t family. Nancy said, “That sounds like Tom. He adopts people all the time. You should go. You’ll have a good time.” I wasn’t good with boundaries back then, so I said okay and went to the party.  

It was awkward as hell. Even though I hadn’t slept with John, or even made out with him, I felt dirty from the whole experience. So when Trump said that stars get away with groping women, he was telling the truth. This is just one of my stories, but I’m one of thousands, with many much worse than mine. Lately, female actors have been coming forward to share how they've been sexually harassed. These scenarios happen regularly in Hollywood, and across America every day to women of all ages in all industries.

Regardless of your beauty, age, weight, intelligence, education, talent, net worth... all that matters is if you have a vagina. No matter how you're dressed or how you behave, when a man sexually assaults or harasses you, it is not your fault. It's on him. By the way, I’ve never been able to look at John Ritter the same way again.