Day 3

1986

I was spending the night at my friends house.

She had invited another friend of hers...a much older friend.

He decided he liked me & spent a couple hours attempting to get me to kiss him.

He even accused me of racism saying I wouldn't kiss him because he was black.

I answered it had nothing to do with the colour of his skin but everything to do with him being 10 years older than me.

I eventually got tired & fell asleep.

When I woke up the next morning he was gone.

I've often wondered if he tried anything while I was sleeping.

I was 16.  He was 26.

1987

One of my friends & I decided we liked each other more than friends so we dated for awhile. 

He kept trying to force me to touch him. 

I didn't want to. 

It made me feel dirty. 

I knew it was wrong somehow. 

He kept touching me.

I didn't want him to.

He didn't want to stop.

Every time he touched me I froze.

Almost as if my soul & mind went somewhere else for the moment.

I never told him why.  I didn't know how. 

So I kept quiet.

Our relationship ended later that year.  Probably because he wanted to have sex & I just couldn't go there.  Not again.  Not yet.

1989/1990

I was on a cruise with my parents...as it turns out, the last family vacation we would have with my Dad. 

I had a wonderful time. 

I had just turned 19.  Drank legally for the first time.  Enjoyed the attention our waiter paid to me. 

I was young, foolish & naive. 

I'd never really dated much in high school. 

I always ignored any guys that liked me more than a friend. 

It was easier keeping guys as friends...nothing more.

Besides, I thought, who would ever want me? 

Then the waiter asked me on a date.  I was thrilled, so I said yes. 

Instead of meeting up with him as scheduled, I fell asleep. 

The excitement of an older guy being interested in me tired me out I suppose.  When I woke up, I was upset.  Pissed off at myself, depressed over it even.  I've got a photo of myself from that night looking pretty down. 

The next night I apologized profusely to him, begged him to give me a second chance.  G-d was I stupid. 

We met up that night.  He showed me the employees' quarters...rather spartan & dismal compared to the luxurious decor & accommodations the passengers enjoyed. 

We finally got to his room. 

He opened the door, ushered me in & quietly locked the door...to give us privacy he said.

He took me in his arms & began kissing me. 

Then he led me to the bed. 

He said we were going to have a great time. 

He kept kissing me while he tried to remove my top. 

I said no...I'm not ready for this. 

I told him I was a virgin. (As far as I was concerned I was a virgin.  I knew I wasn't but it hadn't been my choice back then so I tried to pretend it didn't happen.)

He couldn't believe it but I insisted I was. 

Then he pinned me down & got on top of me. 

I kept saying no, struggling to get up but he was so damn strong.  I remember being surprised at how strong he was considering how slender & wiry he was built.

He kept grabbing me, touching me. 

I kept saying No, Stop. 

He just ignored what I was saying & kept holding my wrists down. 

I’m not sure when he removed his pants but I could feel him.

I didn't want this to happen. 

I started to cry. 

Then the door opened.  It was his roommate.  He saw what was going on & grabbed the waiter off of me.  He held him off while I quickly put my top back on.  I ran out the door & didn't stop until I was in my stateroom. 

I took a shower to wash away my shame.

I didn't want my parents to know I'd done something so fucking stupid. 

I also didn't want any problems during the remainder of our cruise.

So I kept quiet.

I was 19.  He was 29.

1991/1992

On a cold evening in March 1991, my brother picked me up from college.  He had a friend sitting in the back seat.  We were briefly introduced.

Our relationship developed into something other than a fling.

I decided that he would be the first I slept with. 

This time it would me MY choice.

It was amazing at first but then it got awkward. 

Then terrifying. 

As he tried to enter me, I froze. 

I kept seeing their faces hovering over mine. 

I kept feeling the drowning weight of them on top of me. 

I couldn’t breathe. 

I kept having flashbacks of that summer. 

Each time we had sex those flashbacks came back with a vengence. 

I didn’t understand why my body kept rejecting him. 

I didn’t know how to tell him what was going on. 

I was ashamed.

Embarrassed.

Mortified. 

So I kept quiet. 

Our relationship ended that summer.

1992

I was dating a good friend of mine. 

I trusted him implicitly. 

We started having sex. 

I froze each time. 
My mind & soul disconnecting with what was going on.

I wasn’t there.

He noticed & eventually stopped caring about it. 

He used me & I let him.

He thanked me each time as if I was some cheap whore who was just doing her job.

I hated him for that.

I hated me for allowing it to continue.

I couldn’t tell him what was wrong. 

I didn’t know how to tell him.

So I kept quiet.

Our relationship ended that autumn.

1993

My mother & I were sitting in the living room...her, lecturing me on how to be a better person...me, ignoring her as usual.

She finally asked what my problem was.

I asked her about the operation I had the summer I was 7 years old.

She insisted I never had an operation. 

I insisted I did. 

I insisted that her brother took me to have it. 

She had no idea what I was talking about & told me to stop lying.

That’s the moment.

That was when it dawned on me what had actually happened that summer.

I began crying.

She asked me why I was crying.

I couldn’t tell her the reason...

So I kept quiet.

And I promised myself nobody would ever use me that way again.

And I haven’t let them.