Dec 9, 2009

Incidents/Unresolved Emotions

I dated a boy my freshman year. He was a few years older than me, and we only dated for a few months. I was young for my year, so it never progressed to more than making out. The summer between my junior and senior year, we met up. I had just gotten out of a relationship where I gave my boyfriend head every day that we saw each other, so it was habitual and almost routine when I went down on Freshman Boyfriend.

I didn't like it.

I got into another friends deal where I was used predominately for oral sex. That spring of my senior year, a few friends and I decided to drink at the beach so that we didn't go off and get crazy in college. We came back to my house and camped in the backyard. We drank more and lounged around and eventually everyone started falling asleep. I was sharing an air matress with Freshman Boyfriend when he started grinding into me, inching his fingers into my waistband. I'd gotten hotter, gotten older, become more experienced. He wanted me now, instead of the little kid I'd used to be.

He touched me. I told him to stop and he didn't. My friends heard me crying from the tent next to us and didn't help. Before he could get my jeans all the way off and actually rape me, I pushed him off, ran inside the house and locked the door.

We began talking again. We ignored it. Never spoke of it. We became friends again. Now he's telling me about this girl who broke his heart and all I can think about is that I wish his heart broke for the way he hurt me. I just want to scream "You molested me! You screwed me up and ruined any chance I had at a normal sex life!" But I can't, because I don't know if that's true. I don't know if he really did molest me. I remember him touching me in places he shouldn't, but I'd been drinking and it's all a bit fuzzy.

I thought I'd gotten over it, moved past it. I don't want revenge, I just want him to realize what he did. I want him to cry for me; for breaking me.

I confronted him, and granted, online was not the best way, but he doesn't remember it. Any of it. I hate crying.

And now I feel broken all over again.

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