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. A second later, he leaned down and started kissing me. Then more people found out and teased me about it, as if I was promiscuous, slutty. 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. I scrambled to gather my clothes and put them back on, and ran after him. Still in his football gear, his jaw was clenched and he was tearing the pep rally "Go team! Then he dropped his shorts to his ankles, put his hands on my shoulders, and pushed me down. He led me to a table near the back, by the smoking section, and slid into the booth across from me.
Being by myself and seeing him like this was terrifying, but also electrifying. He made his way over and talked to me, and at the end of the night he said he would walk me home. But he walked fast and was a few steps ahead of me, so I took double steps, stumbling to keep up with him. Afterwards, he walked me home like he'd promised. Then he dropped his shorts to his ankles, put his hands on my shoulders, and pushed me down. 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. 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. 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. Maybe he'll kiss me! But I've learned that the more I talk about it, the less power it has. Then more people found out and teased me about it, as if I was promiscuous, slutty. 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. I froze as he passed by and continued down the hallway ripping signs. Leaning back against the door, I slid to the ground. 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. 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. 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. Still in his football gear, his jaw was clenched and he was tearing the pep rally "Go team! I couldn't believe this was actually happening! I told some of my friends about that night, but as if it had just been normal hooking-up. Looking back, I can't say that this one incident is solely responsible for damaging my sexuality and destroying my ability to trust. A second later, he leaned down and started kissing me. He led me to a table near the back, by the smoking section, and slid into the booth across from 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. 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.
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