Hi everyone, I just wanted to say I've read through several posts on this forum and I think it is amazing how supportive people are. I also love that people are brave enough to share what happened to them. It's honestly the hardest thing I've ever done.
I just recently came out and explained my personal experience to my current girlfriend. She is the only person I have told, but I feel safe on a forum full of sexual assault survivors who share similar, if not greater, pain.
Anywho, I blocked out that I was touched against my will for many reasons. First, I didn't want to admit that what happened to me was molestation. I didn't want it to be as serious as that. I was scared, being a 16 year old male, that if told anyone a 22 year old women forced herself on me, that they would laugh. I even thought I was gay because I couldn't understand why I didn't want someone like her sexually. But I'm not gay, I've found out - not bi, either. I just didn't want her.
Okay, the woman who did it was a really close friend of my family. She let me believe her and I were close to. I felt as though I could trust her. I didn't have an easy childhood. I struggled with isolation and abandonment after my father went to jail on Christmas day when I was 14. Her and I talked about it a lot. She was my brothers babysitter when I wasn't around, but we saw each other often. Sometimes plans would fall through with friends and I would be stuck at home as she babysat. If that happened, her and I would talk (platonically). So basically, we became pretty close.
Alright. So around 4 months after she began babysitting my little brother, she stayed up drinking with my parents and their friends. I sat there with them, next to Rachel. We had to sit pretty cramped around the table, there was 9 of us. The whole time they talked, Rachel kept... f*cking with me under the table. (I took a break here, this is where it gets hard to talk about.) She held a perfectly casual conversation with my parents while slid her hand in and out of my pajama pants and around the inside of my waistband. No one around the table noticed. I wanted to get up and go to bed, but I didn't, I couldn't. I don't know what my problem was. I couldn't move. I could barely breathe. The last thing I remember that night is her fingernails grazing my - dick (sorry for vulgarity).
It was kind of my fault really. I never actually told her to stop or did anything to prevent her. So I forgave this incident. The next day, however, my parents (during high school I stayed with my mother and step-father) left early - I can't remember where they went but they took my little brother, leaving Rachel and I at the house alone. They hosted "events" all the time, so allowing a patron to sober up overnight was not uncommon. Plus, they trusted her.
So 11am the following day, Rachel knocked on my bedroom door. She didn't say anything about last night, just asked if I was hungry. I didn't think much of it, so I agreed. It wasn't the first time her and I were alone together. I also thought now might be a good chance to explain how I wasn't 100% comfortable with last night. I remember planning on how I was going to say it - I wanted to say it.
So we drove to Wendy's and she bought me some food. On the way back, however, she didn't turn on my street. Instead, she turned down a different road and parked on the street near the park in my neighborhood. This was pretty deep into my neighborhood and rarely people went there - especially not in winter. We sat there, quietly - for about 5 minutes. I was pretty confused but after another couple of minutes of silence, she started explaining that a lot of guys "throw themselves" at her. And that she didn't have trouble finding sex. She then explained that she was attracted to something in me, that she wanted to "be" with me. She never asked if I wanted it, she only explained that I would be lucky to have this chance, and that a lot of guys would kill to be in my situation. <-- her words.
Then she reached over to my seat, and started to undo my belt. She was really rough. I grabbed her hand, and asked her what she was doing. She followed up only with, "relax". I took a choked breath in and looked at her one more time. I told her, "stop, Rachel. I don't want this -" I couldn't finish what I was saying, but I remember my words exactly. At that moment, she pulled my belt so hard that the buckle broke on the prong. She immediately started undoing my pants. I made several unsuccessful attempts to pry her hands from below my waist. I don't know what was wrong with me. I'm not a weak person, I told her I didn't want it, and yet - it still happened. Every time I tried to stop her, she just got more aggressive. She got my pants undone and managed to slide them down far enough to grab me, like, on the - yeah. I'm an adult now, I can say it - I'd just rather not in this case. I don't remember anything else, nor do I want to. I hope that's normal.
God damn it. I should have fought her. I should have stopped her. I don't know why I didn't. I don't know why I let her do that to me...
It took me five years to announe, just recently to my girlfriend of 3 years, what happened. Like I said, I remember thinking I was gay for not wanting Rachel to touch me. She wasn't some 35 year old balding monster living with her parents - she was a sexually active 22 year old that a lot of men found attractive. I guess that's another reason I don't feel comfortable talking about this. Teenage guys don't usually get molested by "pretty" 22 year old girls.
I now have incredible detachment issues and I push people out of my life easily. The only one can manage to keep around is my current girlfriend (we grew up together. She was there for me a lot during our childhood). Also, ever since that night - I constantly wash me hands (excessively, I'll admit). Finally, I have a weird arousal/hatred towards anyone with red hair - and I never let anyone touch my belt. It freaks me out. I feel as though they are always dirty. My counselor says these are all linked.
I just want to be normal. Don't want to waste any more emotional energy on my stupid past. I want - I try - to move forward, but it's really hard.
Oh well, that's that chapter of my life. I later went on to cope negatively with depression with things like pot, alcohol, and sex. Not proud of it. I decided that I wanted to stop all of that, began dating my lifelong friend, Taylor. I now only drink occasionally, do no drugs, and have what I believe is a healthy sexual relationship. I even try to be kind to everyone. To let NO ONE feel alone. Hell I almost forget I wrote a book. I'm a published author. Either way, thank you everyone for letting me vent.
I just recently came out and explained my personal experience to my current girlfriend. She is the only person I have told, but I feel safe on a forum full of sexual assault survivors who share similar, if not greater, pain.
Anywho, I blocked out that I was touched against my will for many reasons. First, I didn't want to admit that what happened to me was molestation. I didn't want it to be as serious as that. I was scared, being a 16 year old male, that if told anyone a 22 year old women forced herself on me, that they would laugh. I even thought I was gay because I couldn't understand why I didn't want someone like her sexually. But I'm not gay, I've found out - not bi, either. I just didn't want her.
Okay, the woman who did it was a really close friend of my family. She let me believe her and I were close to. I felt as though I could trust her. I didn't have an easy childhood. I struggled with isolation and abandonment after my father went to jail on Christmas day when I was 14. Her and I talked about it a lot. She was my brothers babysitter when I wasn't around, but we saw each other often. Sometimes plans would fall through with friends and I would be stuck at home as she babysat. If that happened, her and I would talk (platonically). So basically, we became pretty close.
Alright. So around 4 months after she began babysitting my little brother, she stayed up drinking with my parents and their friends. I sat there with them, next to Rachel. We had to sit pretty cramped around the table, there was 9 of us. The whole time they talked, Rachel kept... f*cking with me under the table. (I took a break here, this is where it gets hard to talk about.) She held a perfectly casual conversation with my parents while slid her hand in and out of my pajama pants and around the inside of my waistband. No one around the table noticed. I wanted to get up and go to bed, but I didn't, I couldn't. I don't know what my problem was. I couldn't move. I could barely breathe. The last thing I remember that night is her fingernails grazing my - dick (sorry for vulgarity).
It was kind of my fault really. I never actually told her to stop or did anything to prevent her. So I forgave this incident. The next day, however, my parents (during high school I stayed with my mother and step-father) left early - I can't remember where they went but they took my little brother, leaving Rachel and I at the house alone. They hosted "events" all the time, so allowing a patron to sober up overnight was not uncommon. Plus, they trusted her.
So 11am the following day, Rachel knocked on my bedroom door. She didn't say anything about last night, just asked if I was hungry. I didn't think much of it, so I agreed. It wasn't the first time her and I were alone together. I also thought now might be a good chance to explain how I wasn't 100% comfortable with last night. I remember planning on how I was going to say it - I wanted to say it.
So we drove to Wendy's and she bought me some food. On the way back, however, she didn't turn on my street. Instead, she turned down a different road and parked on the street near the park in my neighborhood. This was pretty deep into my neighborhood and rarely people went there - especially not in winter. We sat there, quietly - for about 5 minutes. I was pretty confused but after another couple of minutes of silence, she started explaining that a lot of guys "throw themselves" at her. And that she didn't have trouble finding sex. She then explained that she was attracted to something in me, that she wanted to "be" with me. She never asked if I wanted it, she only explained that I would be lucky to have this chance, and that a lot of guys would kill to be in my situation. <-- her words.
Then she reached over to my seat, and started to undo my belt. She was really rough. I grabbed her hand, and asked her what she was doing. She followed up only with, "relax". I took a choked breath in and looked at her one more time. I told her, "stop, Rachel. I don't want this -" I couldn't finish what I was saying, but I remember my words exactly. At that moment, she pulled my belt so hard that the buckle broke on the prong. She immediately started undoing my pants. I made several unsuccessful attempts to pry her hands from below my waist. I don't know what was wrong with me. I'm not a weak person, I told her I didn't want it, and yet - it still happened. Every time I tried to stop her, she just got more aggressive. She got my pants undone and managed to slide them down far enough to grab me, like, on the - yeah. I'm an adult now, I can say it - I'd just rather not in this case. I don't remember anything else, nor do I want to. I hope that's normal.
God damn it. I should have fought her. I should have stopped her. I don't know why I didn't. I don't know why I let her do that to me...
It took me five years to announe, just recently to my girlfriend of 3 years, what happened. Like I said, I remember thinking I was gay for not wanting Rachel to touch me. She wasn't some 35 year old balding monster living with her parents - she was a sexually active 22 year old that a lot of men found attractive. I guess that's another reason I don't feel comfortable talking about this. Teenage guys don't usually get molested by "pretty" 22 year old girls.
I now have incredible detachment issues and I push people out of my life easily. The only one can manage to keep around is my current girlfriend (we grew up together. She was there for me a lot during our childhood). Also, ever since that night - I constantly wash me hands (excessively, I'll admit). Finally, I have a weird arousal/hatred towards anyone with red hair - and I never let anyone touch my belt. It freaks me out. I feel as though they are always dirty. My counselor says these are all linked.
I just want to be normal. Don't want to waste any more emotional energy on my stupid past. I want - I try - to move forward, but it's really hard.
Oh well, that's that chapter of my life. I later went on to cope negatively with depression with things like pot, alcohol, and sex. Not proud of it. I decided that I wanted to stop all of that, began dating my lifelong friend, Taylor. I now only drink occasionally, do no drugs, and have what I believe is a healthy sexual relationship. I even try to be kind to everyone. To let NO ONE feel alone. Hell I almost forget I wrote a book. I'm a published author. Either way, thank you everyone for letting me vent.
