But then he took my clothes off really quickly and all of a sudden I was lying on the ground and he was on top of me. I didn't want to say it but I did, and he led me to the top of hill with a stream trickling by below. I was trying to decide if I liked it or not and leaning towards not when he told me to give him a blow job. I thought, walking down the dirt path next to him, and popping a Wint-O-Green Lifesaver in my mouth just in case. Leaning back against the door, I slid to the ground. Looking back, I can't say that this one incident is solely responsible for damaging my sexuality and destroying my ability to trust. 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. I went to my best friend's house before the party and she did my hair, putting it half-up in a clip and blow-drying and hairspraying my bangs. 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.
Maybe he'll kiss me! But then he took my clothes off really quickly and all of a sudden I was lying on the ground and he was on top of me. 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. 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. It's almost always the same. Afterwards, he walked me home like he'd promised. Inside the diner, there was a Christmas tree next to the door, and Patrick grabbed a candy cane that was hanging off it as he walked by. Tap here to turn on desktop notifications to get the news sent straight to you. But it's stayed with me anyway and comes back in my dreams, especially when I start to date someone. A second later, he leaned down and started kissing me. My best friend couldn't go but I had a feeling that Patrick would be there so I decided to go by myself. But I've learned that the more I talk about it, the less power it has. 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. Neither happened very often but when they did, I was so excited about these brief glimpses and conversations. He was tall and the hill was steep so it was hard to balance and I was afraid I was going to fall backwards, but I didn't. He led me to a table near the back, by the smoking section, and slid into the booth across from me. 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. His hands were all over me and dried leaves scratched against my back and legs and my mind couldn't keep up with what was going on. 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. 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 went to my best friend's house before the party and she did my hair, putting it half-up in a clip and blow-drying and hairspraying my bangs. Being by myself and seeing him like this was terrifying, but also electrifying. 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. A few months ago, the night before my first date with a guy I'd known for a while and really liked, I had the dream again. I told some of my friends about that night, but as if it had just been normal hooking-up. At 15 years old, I didn't understand what had happened.
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