And It Was Wrong

He said he'd waited long enough

He was my high school boyfriend. He walked me to class and we went to the movies. He came over to my parents' house for dinner. My parents really liked him--they said he was such a nice boy. And he was. He pulled out my chair when we sat down for dinner. He opened the car door for me. He paid when we went out on dates. And he tried to force me to have sex with him.

We had been dating for almost three months the night he decided he had waited long enough. We had made out and fooled around a little, but clothes had always been on. That night, he started to take them off. I sort of laughed at first and asked him what he was doing. I don't know how to describe it, but in that moment I thought he must have been joking around. His response told me he wasn't joking "I've waited long enough," he said.

I felt so scared then. He wasn't a big guy, about my size, so I know I could have physically gotten away but somehow I felt paralyzed. Knowing that he knew I didn't want to but didn't care made me feel like I couldn't even move. I remember whispering "please, stop" but mostly just lay there, silent, unmoving.

When he had taken of my clothes and then his he paused. He started to move toward me, but stopped. I realize now, years later, that I don't think he knew what to do. I'm pretty sure he had never had sex before and I honestly don't think he knew the logistics of what to do next. He decided then that I was going to give him oral sex. He sat down on the couch, moved me to the floor so that I was crouched beside him, and pushed my head into his lap. I tried moving my head away, but he told me to "suck it, bitch" and "you know you want it." My polite, door-opening boyfriend, started talking like an ad out of Hustler.

I don't like dwelling on the details of what happened next, and I think the part I've had a harder time getting over is what happened after he was done. After he had finished, we put our clothes back on and sat back down on the couch. He draped his arm around me and turned on the TV. I just sat there, letting his arm stay draped around me, telling myself that his arm around me showed that he cared and if he cared then what he did was OK, right? He acted like everything was normal so I thought this must be normal.

He broke up with me a few days later and it's one of my greatest regrets that I didn't break up with him first. We never talked about that night. He didn't acknowledge it in any way and neither did I.

He started dating another girl a few weeks later and I always watched her, wondering if he did the same thing to her or if maybe he didn't have to because she did it herself. I decided that had been the problem, that I had been too prude, he had no choice but to make me do what I should have been doing all along. After all, he said he had waited long enough. I started giving myself away to anyone who wanted it, telling myself that if there was nothing I wouldn't do, no one could ever make me do anything again.

I went on like that for a few years until one day a man I was with, a man I was with in college told me to "suck it, bitch" as he put his groin in my face. I lost it then, just started crying and and yelling at him about things that really weren't about him at all. He left that room pretty quickly but I couldn't stop crying.

I couldn't stop crying about a boy who knew how to tell a girl to "suck it, bitch" before he knew the logistics of sex. I couldn't stop crying about a girl who had her first real sexual experience feeling helpless on her basement floor. I couldn't stop crying for that same girl who coerced herself into having countless more sexual experiences so no one could coerce her first. I just couldn't stop crying.

Eventually I did stop crying, though. I stopped crying and called a counselor...and then I started crying again. I cried a lot, but they were good tears. They were the tears of a fourteen year old girl who had held them in for far too long. I cried for a long time but eventually all the tears came out.

I have since learned that I deserve to want anything that happens to my body. I have learned that I should be respected when I say no. I have learned that I do not ever--ever--deserve to have someone tell me what to do. I am stronger now for that learning. I have learned that what my high school boyfriend did to me was not OK, and it was wrong.

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