Covering my mouth with my hand, I tried to subtly spit out my Lifesaver so I'd be ready for the kiss, and dropped it on the ground. But I sometimes wonder if my first sexual experience had been different, kinder, I would have been able to make better choices about the men I got involved with, could have gone down a different path. A second later, he leaned down and started kissing me. I made one appointment with the school counselor to talk about it, but I never told my friends how scared I felt in the woods, or how sad I felt afterwards. Maybe he'll kiss me! Leaning back against the door, I slid to the ground. More than 20 years later, I don't often think about what happened on that spring night.
I made one appointment with the school counselor to talk about it, but I never told my friends how scared I felt in the woods, or how sad I felt afterwards. But he walked fast and was a few steps ahead of me, so I took double steps, stumbling to keep up with him. He led me to a table near the back, by the smoking section, and slid into the booth across from me. It wasn't until I was in my late 20s that I told my therapist about it, and I was in my 30s before I ever told the full story to friends. But I sometimes wonder if my first sexual experience had been different, kinder, I would have been able to make better choices about the men I got involved with, could have gone down a different path. Then more people found out and teased me about it, as if I was promiscuous, slutty. There was no label for what he did so it became a violation I couldn't name, and I could convince myself that it wasn't a big deal. I'm back in those woods, and Patrick's there, too, a few steps ahead of me as I wind down the dirt path, stumbling in the dark. It's almost always the same. Covering my mouth with my hand, I tried to subtly spit out my Lifesaver so I'd be ready for the kiss, and dropped it on the ground. More than 20 years later, I don't often think about what happened on that spring night. I ordered a hot chocolate and he offered me some of his cheese fries, and gave me the candy cane he'd stolen. Feeling the cool tile against my face, I curled up into a ball on the entryway floor, wrapped my arms around my knees, and cried. Neither happened very often but when they did, I was so excited about these brief glimpses and conversations. Walking up to the clearing by the pond where the party was, I saw right away that Patrick was there and my stomach did flip-flops. I'd had a crush on Patrick for so long and all I'd wanted was for him to notice me, to kiss me, and he finally did, only something had gone wrong. My best friend couldn't go but I had a feeling that Patrick would be there so I decided to go by myself. When I got to my house, I walked up the front steps and through the door, shutting it quietly behind me. But I've learned that the more I talk about it, the less power it has. I kept it in the wrapper and tucked it into my purse, and when I got home I hid it underneath my bottom desk drawer, next to my diary with the tiny gold lock. I froze as he passed by and continued down the hallway ripping signs. Afterwards, he walked me home like he'd promised. At school I hoped to pass him in the hallways and at parties I prayed he'd talk to me. Tap here to turn on desktop notifications to get the news sent straight to you. At 15 years old, I didn't understand what had happened. One weekend in May I heard that there was going to be a keg party in the woods by the pond on Sunday night since we had Monday off from school.
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