Our first sort of date was going bowling with his family. I already knew some of them so it wasn’t weird or uncomfortable. We all really sucked at bowling and they were a lot of fun. I ended up having a good time. Soon, his family became my second family and his sister like my sister. She really was a sweetheart and still is to me.2
February rolled around and on Valentines Day he “officially” asked me out and I accepted. He had bought me flowers, candy, and balloons, which didn’t really jazz me, but he also bought a flower for each of my sisters so they wouldn’t feel left out. They all thought it was a nice gesture. He was always buying me things and wouldn’t let me pay for anything. I didn’t like it because I felt like he was trying to buy me. My slight nervousness started there, but of course, I waved it away.3
Then, finally, prom arrived and it was much sooner than I had expected. On the morning of, a dozen roses arrived addressed to me. Even now, I think their petals are dried in a bowl somewhere. I didn’t keep them because they were from him but because roses are my favorite. With everything he did and bought for me my mom liked him even more. His gifts were much to expensive for us only dating a little while. A white gold necklace, diamond earrings, and countless other things.4
For most of that day I felt sick, I didn’t know why though. I got my hair and nails done, which was far too much attention for my comfort, and went home to the dress. The dress is hanging in my closet and it feels like a waste because I will never wear it again. It was gold and slender with a long slit up the leg with an open back. I definitely felt it was too much for me. It was prettier than I was and it accentuated curves my freshmen self barely had. It was an eye-catching dress, but I was not an eye-catching girl. That was fine with me. It just bought me a lot more attention than I wanted. 5
Him and I left the house later for pictures at his house and to go to eat. That was all find and dandy but I was nervous to go to the prom with his grade there. I was only a freshmen. Would they cast me out because I didn’t belong there? That’s what girls did at our prom when underclassmen showed up. I was soon reassured when a girl came up to me and said that she had tried on the very same dress saying that it had looked like shit on her but it looked great on me. With that remark someone might not know how to feel but I felt flattered because this girl spent a lot of time and money for hers and went to Chicago to get it.6
Minutes later, a girl who is now my friend outside of school grabbed my arm and yanked me into her group to dance. I felt welcomed and accepted. The rest of prom really wasn’t that exciting and me and him only danced a few times. I was fine with that. My arms didn’t really rest on his shoulders very comfortably since he was 6'8.7
I think we left the dance around midnight and then we went back to his house for a movie. I was thankful his sister and fiancé were there. It was just more comfortable to me like that. I didn’t entirely trust him. I remember being so happy to change out of my dress and into real clothes. Around two he took me home.8
Nothing exciting happened, but what did I constitute as exciting? Maybe now is where I should tell you that I’m a lesbian and I was never straight. Doesn’t add up, right? Why the hell was I with a guy? The truth is that I slightly suspected myself to being gay but I quickly shut that down when I went out with him. I did NOT want to accept, even admit, or entertain the thought of being gay. 9
So, here I was, making up feelings and pretending that I actually did like him. I guess if I was going to do that I could’ve chosen someone who looked more attractive. He was 6'8 and HUGE, a football player, but not attractive in the least, especially to me. Ha, wonder why?
10About a month and a half went by and our relationship supposedly deepened. I mean, it must’ve in his eyes, at least. We started hanging out more. This is where I get to be completely out of my elements. I could sense something in him and I didn’t like it. I knew what it was and I was fairly afraid of it.11
You’d think we’d start the physical part of our relationship off with holding hands and a kiss, but no, we more went backwards. I remember the day it started, unfortunately, very well. We were headed to a nearby town for a movie. We were just driving out of town and our conversation deadened. I was staring out the window when I felt his hand on my leg. I didn’t dare look. My heart raced, but not from excitement, you could say. His fingers were slowly moving, caressing my leg. I became hot, though not in that sense. I could feel my face getting red and the inside of the car was suddenly too small. I wanted out, but I was trapped in that seat. He slowly inched his hand up and up. So slowly, as if I wouldn’t notice. He finally go to the crotch of my pants and slid his hand down between my thighs. I couldn’t breathe and I could feel myself start to shake. I shook like I was in 30 degree weather but I was burning up. He then asked me if what he was doing was ok and for some unknown reason I uttered the biggest lie of my life. I said it was fine, in mostly a normal voice. I told myself, sure, yeah, that feels ok. NOT.12
I had no idea that I’d be subjected to this and worse for ten more months. Right now, you’re probably thinking I’m fucking stupid. Why didn’t I stop it? Why did I let it go on? Right now, I definitely don’t think that my reason justified myself. Sure, I probably was stupid. I was also trying to ignore myself in the worst possible way. I didn’t want to be gay. I wanted to be “normal”. I wanted things to be simple, easy and natural. I didn’t want people or my family and friends to look at me differently. I was fine with gay people, but I was not fine with being one of them.13
Today, you would not see that in me at all. I accept myself wholeheartedly and like who I am.14
Anyways, soon after that, like a week, he started wanting more from me. We could be at his house or my house and as long as we were under a blanket he would have his hand down my pants and put my hand down his. Didn’t matter where we were or who was there. 15
His sex drive grossed me out to no end. When we drove home from his house he’d unzip his pants first thing and put my hand around him and we’d drive in circles on Bee Lane until he came. Then he would take me home. The first time he came on my hand I wanted to throw up. God, I felt so sick. After that he usually brought a towel. The really sad thing was that I got good at what I did. We hardly had to drive around. No wonder he thought he was soooo in love with me. 16
Most of the worst times were when his parents weren’t home, which was, unfortunately, often. Then he wasn’t afraid to take my clothes off. I remember the first time he tried to take off my bra. I resisted at first and he’d pulled a little at my arms. I finally gave up and let his eyes take in my chest. Whenever he was doing something to me I was staring off to the side and concentrating on an object. Too many times I laid on that couch half-naked with his mouth at my breast and his hand in my panties. I never looked at him, my face was always stone. Lots of times I’d say I was tired and just wanted to take a nap and we’d lay on the floor. But that never lasted long. I’d always wake out of my trance to find this 6'8 guy rubbing himself against me. I consented to everything. Only a few times did I make him stop. One such time was when we were coming home from visiting his mom in the hospital. His sister was driving and we were in the back seat, with a blanket, surprise surprise. He had one hand up my shirt and one down my pants. Very suddenly and too suddenly for me, he penetrated me with a few fingers. Now, I forget the anatomically correct name for it, but all girls have it. Some are thicker than others and when put under pressure or broken can cause a woman extreme pain. It varies. I discovered then that mine must be thicker because when he did that I wanted to scream. Tears were streaming down my face and I pulled his hand away. He asked if he hurt me and I wanted to scream “Well, of course, you hurt me you DUMB FUCK!”. But I only nodded my head and let him wipe the continual tears away. I discovered that moving sends a knife-like pain back to you, especially when walking, and that it helps make it feel better when you apply pressure. This happened a few times to me. After a few months he started kissing me. Ugh, I wanted to throw up. He even kept count and I was like “Of what?” and he’s like “We’ve kissed thirteen times now.” I was like 0.0 “So?”17
Through out this relationship I was obviously stressed and conflicted. I resorted to cutting myself because I had no way to get all that shit out. I didn’t even know what was wrong, I still wasn’t admitting I was gay.18
There was a time later in our relationship where I was at his house and we were watching Ocean 11, or at least I was watching Ocean 11. He was busy amusing himself with my breast having no idea if he just moved his hand a mere few inches he would discover the cuts on my ribs. Without looking at him I moved his hand to the cuts and let him feel them. He immediately lifted my shirt up to see. When I looked at his face he gave me the most disapproving look I had ever seen. Guess, he didn’t want a fucked up girlfriend. That’s when I started crying because he didn’t understand and I don’t know why I expected him to. He wiped my tears away and simply picked me up. He was taking me upstairs. I was alert now, I’d never been upstairs and I couldn’t understand why we were going up there. He took me into his room and took off all my clothes. I really didn’t know what he was going to do. I was more hoping we’d just lay there in his bed and we wouldn’t do anything. Of course, that was unlikely. This was the first time I was completely naked in front of him. I felt overly-exposed. I wished I wouldn’t have watched him look me over. It would’ve been easier if I didn’t. He laid on top of me and touched me everywhere. Then suddenly he pulled me to the side of the bed so that my legs were dangling over. Then he stuck his face between my legs and proceeded in the worst invasion I’d felt yet. I can’t tell you what it felt like to me or what was going through me head. I was speechless and I couldn’t move, I couldn’t stop him. I only acted once he started thrusting his fingers into me. That was it then. That was the line he had to cross. In great effort I only let our a small whimper and I quickly rolled to the other side of the bed and threw on all my clothes. I went down stairs and walked outside to his car and waited for him to take me home. I cried all the way there and he just said “I’m sorry.” 19
I really hated him then. I hated myself. I hated everything. I hated the world and I hated my family too, for loving him. They still think he’s a great guy and don’t understand why I don’t like him. 20
He broke up with me through a note. I know, it’s fucked up he was the one to break up with me. He handed it to me at lunch and told me to read it when I got home. I didn’t like the look on his face so I asked him if it was serious. He said yes. Of course, I couldn’t wait that long to read it. I read it in Spanish the next hour. I went to the bathroom and cried. I finally had to stop pretending. I couldn’t ignore myself anymore. That summer I came out to myself with the help of a friend.21
His family told him it was a mistake that he broke up with me, that he didn’t realize what they had. His family was so nice to me. That’s the only thing I miss about our relationship. I got to see them all the time. They said after a while he realized and he wanted me back. That’s when I’d smirk bitterly to myself. He only wanted someone to get him off.22
Through out all that time I was harboring an extreme crush I had on my best friend. It was so obvious. I felt everything for her and nothing for him. Sometimes after being with him I’d debate about going to her house and just crying about everything. I never did, though. That would be admitting there was a problem, that I didn’t like guys, that I was gay.23
Now, you might ask if experiencing all that stuff with im was one awful thing after another. I’d be lying if I said it was. At times it did feel good, though very rarely and very minimally. That just confused me more. It wouldn’t have been enough to make someone come back for more. I suspect it’s similar to when rape victims orgasm. Undoubtedly it’s the worst experience of their life and yet they’re confused and troubled about why they orgasm sometimes. It’s simply the body’s natural response and reaction to want to produce. I guess I look at it the same way with me, though, I was never raped and I consented everything.24
I felt a great need to write this and write it detailed. I feel the details were always needling me and that’s why all of this still bothers me at times. I am now a senior and getting ready to go off to college and into the great unknown. I try and look back at this experience like it happened for a reason. I don’t know the reason but maybe one day I will.25
This was extremely hard for me to put in detail and I’m sorry if anyone is offended by it. Hell, I’m offended by it, but I still can’t take back what happened.26
To heterosexuals, homosexuals and people alike, I can’t stress how important it is to never be afraid to be yourself and be who you are.
Adding your comment:
it's unfortunate that you had to undergo all of this. the way you describe things is amazing.
