And It Was Rape
I was sixteen when he was 21. When his friends called to see what he was doing, he would lie to avoid telling them that he was hanging out with me. It was like our secret.
Things got more serious about six months later when he told me that he’d never felt this way about anybody. I felt the same but wondered why our relationship was a secret.
Contact with him made me excited. When he would sneak me up to the attic of his mom’s house, I would wait outside on the deck for the signal to come up while gazing through the city smog where stars should be. I had never had a sexual relationship before him and I was excited to be able to relate to my friends who seemed to think about sex nonstop.
One summer afternoon he took out his penis and asked me to give it a kiss. I said that I felt uncomfortable and didn’t want to. He told me that this is what people did in relationships and I was being immature. He said no one would ever want to date me if I didn’t learn to like it. Eventually he wore me down and I convinced myself that he was right and my excuses for not wanting to were childish.
Five months after I lost my virginity to him he told me one day that he would not give me a ride home unless I had sex with him. He said that when two people are dating and have had sex before they have to satisfy the other person to keep the relationship.
I told him that if he made me do that I would never forgive him and that he was sick. He remarked in a nonchalant way that it was going to be a long walk home. It was very cold outside so I took off my clothes and he came over and started touching me. On the bed I covered my face because I was crying so hard and I didn’t want to see what his face looked like. I started hyperventilating and he told me that he was something he had to do and he had no choice. If I had been a better girlfriend and willingly satisfied him, he wouldn’t have had to do that. When it was over he said he didn’t feel like giving me a ride so I walked anyway.
Another time shortly after, he told me he wouldn’t let me get out of the car until I gave him head. After much arguing back and forth and me realizing that he was serious, I did. He would not let me spit out the window until I started gagging. He didn’t want me to get sick in his car so he rolled the window down enough to let me spit out of it. Then he started driving the opposite direction of my house. When we got close to a bad neighborhood he said he was going to let me out there. I rolled the window down at the stoplight and climbed out, trying desperately to sprint away. I found I was getting nowhere in the 3+ feet of snow. People in cars looked on but when the light changed, I was already out of their minds.
I never considered that any of this was wrong. All of my friends were in similar relationships. It just seemed like it was normal for the urban area where we grew up. We all wanted to be more "grown up" than we were whether we consciously knew it or not. I considered these things were just the price I was having to pay for my budding sexuality as well as dating an older guy.
I let myself and the place I was raised convince me that because I wasn’t saying no and he wasn’t hitting me, it was okay. It was not. This person violated my trust, my body and my sense of self and it was wrong.