Her side of the story:
Mandy's not having a good day. With only 6 weeks until she's set to marry her boyfriend, they have a blazing row. She storms out of the house, ends up meeting with some friends at a bar. She has a drink to steady her nerves, one drink turns to four, and suddenly thoughts of discontent turn to thoughts of revenge. She catches the eye of a guy in the corner, and decides that if her boyfriend is going to be in a bad mood when she arrives home, she may as well have fun whilst she's out. A couple more drinks, half an hour on the dance floor and she has a better idea: What if she doesn't go home tonight? That'd show him, let him stay up all night worrying about where she is. She grabs the guy who she's dancing with and tells him she wants to go back with him.
Mandy wakes up, the events of last night are all a bit blurry. She's got a thundering hangover, and she's... wait, where the hell is she? All she knows is that it's not her boyfriend, it's not her bed... Damn, what happened last night? I mean... She loves her boyfriend, there's no way that she'd go with a guy willingly, right? That means... Oh no! That means it must have been rape! She's off to the police station, he must have slipped something in her drink, there's no way that she'd have consented otherwise!