Trigger warning: describes rape
I didn’t want to be in a relationship. I didn’t even want to be his friend. Because I wasn’t interested like the other girls, it drove him crazy.
I was home from college and working during the summer. He would talk to me all during my shift, even if it was time for him to go. He became easy to talk to and made me laugh. He then tells me “I don’t mess with small girls. They don’t know how to handle it.” Excuse me? This man didn’t know me from Eve, how do you know what I “can take”? I was now intrigued, very intrigued.
The first time, I shocked the living daylight out of him. “He’ll never talk about short, small women again,” I thought to myself. Sex with him was great. He fulfilled me, even though I never had an orgasm. I trusted him and knew he would never hurt me. I even trusted him enough to not use a condom.
Sex became rough, and I didn’t like it. I would tell him to slow down, but that made him go harder. “I thought you could take it,” he reminded me. Even if I cried, it wouldn’t make him stop. I cried a lot during sex. He didn’t care. The person who made me laugh now made me cry.
He tore me, and it took a long time to heal. I knew something wasn’t right. I visited the doctor because I just needed to be sure. The doctor never called, and I went back to school. A letter came and there was no return address. I have genital herpes. I immediately told him, and he denied it, even though I begged him to get tested. I don’t know if he got tested nine years ago, and I will never know.