My Story

There’s something I need to say, but I can’t. I can’t say it out loud. Because if I did then it’d be true. It’d be real. I don’t want it to be real. I just want it to go away. But it’s not going to go away, it’ll never go away. It will continue to weigh on my heart, my conscious mind, my sub conscious, my every being. I need to let it go. I need to talk about it to finally be free of this and move on. It’s time to let this go.
A while back I was seeing this guy. Someone I had met a few years prior to this event. He seemed like a nice guy, a good guy, and as we started to hang out more, I felt myself being comfortable with the idea of him possibly being my boyfriend. Something I never thought to consider before, I’ve been very guarded around guys as I have been mistreated numerous times in the past. But I was taken off guard by him. I didn’t think he even liked me in that way until he kissed me. He kissed me first. That’s how this began, with a simple kiss. One that made me start to think, perhaps I shouldn’t be so guarded. Perhaps I should let myself be just a little vulnerable to the idea of a relationship. So I did. We texted. We went out here and there. He’d kiss me, I’d kiss him back. Things seemed okay.
After a month of this I got the courage to ask, “what are we?” I wanted to know. Was he my boyfriend, was I his girlfriend? What do we call ourselves? I was honestly tired of playing games. I just wanted it to be simple. I honestly thought it was simple. It is simple. Yes or no. It’s that simple. Yes we are, no we are not. So I asked. He told me “let’s see where this goes”
What does that mean? Where else can it go? I kinda had an idea of the answer to that question. I knew what he meant. I didn’t want it to be that though. So I ignored it. I was ready to just end it there, I wanted to and I should’ve. Then my world turned upside down. Before I could even finish registering what he had said, or even finishing thinking of how I should and wanted to respond, I got the call. The one that jut shattered my world, or at least started it. My grandfather had a stroke and was being rushed to the emergency room. Suddenly everything else just didn’t matter. The world seemed to just disappear into the darkness of the night. He stepped up, drove me to the hospital, waited in the waiting room into the wee hours of the morning before going home, an hour away. I was so focused on what was happening with my grandfather I didn’t really notice that it had taken about a week for him to text me to check in on how I was doing. Giving me some excuse at how he wanted to give me space to handle what was going on. Okay, I get that. Would’ve been nice to have heard sooner though. But I ignored my instinct yet again. I don’t have a reason as to why I ignored it. Maybe it was because I was so focused on taking care of my grandfather, maybe the idea of having a shoulder to lean on during such a difficult time sounded nice. Maybe it was the idea of finally getting a happy ending. I don’t really know. But I ignored my instinct and continued to see him. I had my doubts but they all vanished rather quickly. A month after the stroke my grandfather passed away, I was devastated. My world came crashing down. Of course I told him, and he gave his condolences. A week later was the funeral services for my grandfather. He called to ask me about the services, I told him when it was, he said he could go. I didn’t invite him. I honestly didn’t really want him there. But he insisted. And everyone was saying how sweet, and thoughtful that was. I honestly thought him wanting to go to the service with me meant he truly cared about me. I thought I had found the person I was meant to be with.
About a month later we went out. The usual night out, he picked me up, we went to the bar, got some drinks. We were having a good time. I got the courage to ask one more time what we were. We said we would try. We said we would be boyfriend and girlfriend. We were dating. I was happy. I think he was too. The night continues. We go to some more bars, we end up at a local club. The drinks continue. The last thing I remember was dancing on the dance floor. That’s the last thing I remember. The rest comes in bits and pieces. I was on the dance floor, then I was in his car, then I was naked in his car. We were at a gas station. Then we were in some parking lot somewhere. It was dark. He parks the car and pulls a lever on the passenger seat forcing the back down, forcing me down in a quick rough motion. He asks me, I know I said yes. I can hear myself saying yes. Why did I say yes. I don’t really remember the rest, just him on top of me, I felt nothing. He was clumsy to be honest. It wasn’t good at all. Then nothing, I passed out, drunk, then I wake up. He wants to go again, he doesn’t put a condom on, thankfully I’m alert enough to notice and demand he put one on, he says “I’ll just pull out.” The nerve. So disrespectful in my opinion. I tell him no, he puts one on and we go again. Again he’s clumsy, terrible, I feel nothing. He gets his and asks me if I came as well, by this time I wanted to be done, I wanted to go home. I know if I tell him the truth he’d keep going, so I say yes to get him off me. He gets off and finally takes me home.
The next day I feel weird. I don’t know how to explain the feeling. Regret I suppose. I suppose it’d feel like a one night stand. Go to the bar, get drunk, go home with a cute guy you find at the bar, wake up to regret. I guess that’s what it feels like. The week goes on and I don’t hear a single word from him. He texts me saying he’s tried messaging me but I haven’t replied. It seems strange to me, instincts kick in again and this time the veil has been lifted. I follow my feelings. I cut straight to the point and call him out on what happened. He took advantage of a drunk girl. A girl drunk and flirting, and probably did want it and initiated the events of the night, that is not being denied. But what should have happened was the boy, not being as drunk as the girl, being sober enough to drive on the Spaulding turnpike without incident, should’ve driven the girl home instead. He argues claiming he was just as drunk, saying I wanted it and he was just giving me what I wanted. He makes excuses. Saying I pushed all the right buttons, and kept pushing. He has a high libido, and it doesn’t take much. How sex was easy for him.
There’s so much I want to say. So much anger I just want to unleash. I want to tell hi it was bad, tell him he lacked in areas it counts most. I want to say so much, but I know it won’t do any good. He’d just argue and defend his side of it. He doesn’t see the wrong he’s done and nothing I say will change that. There’s just one question on my mind. I ask, ” if we weren’t together, would you have still done it?”
The answer was no. If we were not a couple he would’ve driven me home. But since we were a couple he went along with it. This is how he treated his girlfriend. This is how he would treat his girlfriend. And he saw nothing wrong with that.
Needless to say it’s over. Though he had hoped to talk next time we see each other. At a local convention in a crowded hallway I hear a familiar voice call my name. I ignore it. He’s not worth my time or energy. We see each other in passing only once. He tried to talk to me, I ignore him.
Its not that this is hard to talk about. I can talk about it and yet I can’t. There are some people I can not say these words too. And they are the people who need to hear this story more than anyone. My family. They deserve to know what I’ve been through, what I’ve been dealing with. And I deserve their support and understanding. But I can’t bring myself to say it out loud. Not to them anyway. For now this will do. In a way I’ve told the story, the weight I’ve been feeling is lighter already. The mistakes of my past can never be erased, and I don’t intend on trying to do so. I learn from them, becoming wiser and stronger. Now I’ve said my story, I let this go. And as I do so I breath a sigh of relief. It’s freeing beyond words.