When I was 16, I liked to pretend I was a rebel. I snuck out late with my best friend, drank alcohol, got too drunk. My parents were going through a bitter, violent separation and I think I acted out to get away from it all, as clichéd as it sounds.
My 15 year old best friend was equally rebellious, and found herself a boyfriend who was 21. He was charming and complimentary, seemed so funny. But in retrospect must have been a loser or a pervert to want to hang out with 15 / 16 year old girls.
My friend’s older brother found out she was going out with him and freaked out, told her parents and got her grounded. We had planned to go out that night, and I, not wanting to spend a night in with my family went out anyway.
I was out of my depth, everyone at the pub was much much older and could handle their drink. They were knocking back the spirits and downed whisky after whisky, while I joined in with them desperate to keep up. I got hammered. Then we got a cab back to my town, he brought me to his friends house where they were all drinking magic mushroom tea. I drank some, too drunk and too naïve to know what I was drinking. “You are too fucked to go home’ he said. “I’m bringing you home with me.”
I passed out on his couch, and awoke some time later to the pain of him stabbing me inside my underwear. Unbelievably I kissed him, as if pretending I was consenting to it made it more bearable. This time, as he took my virginity, was when I first learned how to disassociate during sex.
I felt guilt, shame, how could I tell my best friend that I had lost my virginity when it was to her boyfriend. And so began the end of our friendship.