How could I possibly enjoy something that caused so much pain and frustration? It became difficult for me to achieve orgasm. I cried over a dozen times over the course of the next three months.Įach time I cried, it was like opening a wound, like ripping off a scab that was just beginning to heal. I cried when he caught me alone behind the music hall. I cried when he came to see me in my dorm room because I didn’t want to stay at the house when my boyfriend was out. I cried the next time he came into the bedroom when my boyfriend was out. So I let him push me down onto the bed and took it. Not after I had told my parents that I wouldn’t be coming home for Spring Break so that I could spend it with him. Not after I had called my best friend from home and gushed to her about this amazing new boyfriend I had. Not after I had bragged to the girls in my dorms how I wouldn’t have to do laundry or eat shitty cafeteria food with them anymore. I couldn’t lose my boyfriend, I just couldn’t. And if you don’t do this with me right now, I’m going to tell him that you slept with me anyways.” “Who do you think he’s going to believe? He’s been my boy for the last three years. “And besides,” he continued, unbuttoning my jeans as the tears ran down my face. I’m gonna tell him that you came onto me. “Well if he finds out, I’m gonna tell him that you started it. “ will be back any minute, and he’s going to kick your fucking ass!” “C’mon, I know you want this,” he whispered in my ear. He put his other hand on my waist and pulled me into him. I tried to pull my hand away, but he had a tight grip on my wrist. He grabbed my hand and tried to pull me closer. “You know I’ve wanted you from the day I met you,” he said, stepping closer to me. I immediately whipped around and asked what the hell he was doing. When I turned around, he had his pants around his ankles and his shirt on the ground. Paying no mind to what he was doing, I continued doing my makeup. come back yet?” I asked, while applying a fresh coat of mascara. Expecting to see my boyfriend, I looked up into the mirror and instead saw one of his roommates. I was in his bathroom when I heard the bedroom door open, close, then lock. While everyone was out in the garage and living room partying, my boyfriend had gone on an alcohol run and I went into his room to re-apply my makeup and take a break from the noise of the party. That simple sentence would change my life. “I’m going to tell him that you slept with me anyways.” Then, one night during a party, my world changed forever. I had an older boyfriend, the guys I kicked it with were a lot cooler than the other freshman guys, and I never had to worry about trying to find anyone to buy me alcohol.) (Now remember, as an insecure 18 year old girl, I thought I had it made.
When he wasn’t home, I would kick it with the boys, play some video games, smoke, or just hang out and chill. I even got along really well with his roommates, also older guys. I didn’t have to sleep in the dorms anymore, I could use his car, I could cook my own meals, and I could smoke weed whenever I wanted without worrying about getting caught by an RA.
I had started dating an older guy – he was 24 – and I loved it. I went home for Christmas break for a week, and then came back to college to start a new year. I was getting attention from some of the more attractive guys on campus. I guess I had something of an exotic look, being half-Japanese, half-Caucasian, compared to my blonde-haired, blue-eyed classmates.
When I went away to college though, things changed. Most of my friends in high school were tiny little Asian girls, so I never really got much attention from guys growing up. I’m a bigger girl…not necessarily “fat” per se, but I am 5’9 with a solid, athletic build. I’ve always felt a little insecure and awkward growing up. Getting attention from guys who I thought were extremely attractive…check.ĭon’t get me wrong, I had a boyfriend throughout most of high school, but I have never considered myself one of the hot girls. Going to a real Thanksgiving dinner in the continental U.S….check. Walking on to my university’s basketball team…check. Going to classes and making Dean’s List my first term…check. I was soaking up everything college had to offer, and enjoying every minute of it. I was a freshman in my second term of college, 18 years young and loving life.