And It Was Wrong


I became friends with John when we were in the same course straight after secondary college. We started to hang out together a lot. He was fun, hilarious, seemingly confident, and we had similar interests.

The first time he slept at my house I set up an extra mattress for him on the floor in my room. He made a half-hearted joke about me putting him on the floor “where he belongs”, which confused me. I told him I thought he would be more comfortable on his own mattress and we left it at that. I wasn’t sexually attracted to him at all and the possibility of us having sex had never even crossed my mind.

As time went on and our friendship grew, his guard thinned and he started to expose me to other areas of his life. He took me to a gay bar a few times, I was introduced to his friends, we took ecstasy and had lots of fun.

After the first time he took me there he pointedly told me he only went there to hang out with his friends, as if he was trying to convince me he was straight. I accepted his “excuse” even though I didn’t believe him. I never brought it up as it didn’t bother me. I just wanted to keep being friends and having fun, and I appreciated him sharing this side of himself with me.

After a big night we went back to my house, so I set up a spare mattress for him and turned the lights off, but we kept talking. After a while he started to pester me about why he couldn’t sleep in my bed. I said I didn’t know and eventually gave in and let him into my bed. I suddenly realized what his intentions were and felt really awkward. He kissed my cheek and complimented me on my soft skin. I rambled on about my new face cream to try to distract from the situation. I can’t remember details but I do remember feeling pressured into having sex because it was what was supposed to happen. He wasn’t wearing protection, but stopped to ask me if I was on birth control. I said no, and he joked about not wanting little Johns around, and asked if I had condoms so I got one out. After he finished he went back to his mattress on the floor. I felt a sudden complexity of shame that I had allowed it to happen, confusion about our friendship, and anger at him for being so disrespectful, but I deluded myself into believing it had made us closer.

Afterwards he became meaner and more distant. We hung out at school but I didn’t get invited to hang out socially as much, and when I did I would pretty much get ignored. I obliged whenever he asked me to drive him somewhere. When we would get lunch with friends at school he started to make rude remarks to me in front of everyone. I almost poured my drink over him once but managed to stop myself.

I decided I had enough. I stopped talking to him and started hanging out with different people. After a couple of weeks he meekly asked me in class if I could give him a lift home. I immediately thought to refuse, but paused to think and figured he wanted to apologize, and reluctantly agreed. The whole drive I was waiting for him to apologize, but he acted like nothing ever happened. After he got out of the car I was overtaken with rage as I realized he had manipulated me into giving him a lift home, and I never spoke to him again.

I have since begun to somewhat understand what happened and have forgiven him, but it shouldn’t have happened and it was wrong.

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