Thinking Back

I've been thinking a lot lately. About events that happened to me around five years ago and how fucked up they were. I wonder why I only just started realizing it now.

When I was 15, I was going out with a woman who was 21. And I know that isn't really horrible. I know a ton of people who dated men in their 30s when they were only fifteen. But it wasn't so much the age as it was the WOMAN...

I had just turned 15. I met her online in an IRC chatroom and even though she knew I was a minor, she flirted with me hardcore. I will admit right now that I didn't really like her, rather I was flattered by the fact that another woman was interested in me. She had told me many times that she liked me and stated she wanted to date me. But I was mostly curious about what this whole "love" thing was and how it worked. So I convinced myself I was in love with her and told her so.

My first sexual experiences were cybering with her. I was no longer shy around her, but it was the shyness that she adored so I pretended to be innocent... pretended to be this good little girl who didn't know how anything worked. I was passive, submissive, sweet. Everything she wanted in another person she could control. She stopped being sweet after a few months, if she was sweet at all to begin with. She always had a temper but I let it pass, keeping up my kind demeanor. But when she started insulting my friends, I couldn't pretend anymore, and that's when the name calling started.

I was a horrible person. This horrible person who was prude, raised by fundies, a whore, a little bitch, a slut. And I was still naive, only now I was naive and a whore. She told me I needed to grow up. And when I told her she was verbally abusive, she told me I was emotionally abusive and that shut me up real good.

She'd go for months not really talking to me sometimes. She'd play Sims for hours throughout the day and when I told her I was being treated like a toy to be taken out and played with when she was bored, she told me she needed space. And yet, she wouldn't just break up with me.

Note: She went for two months not saying anything more than "hey" to me per day.

And then came Greg. Now Greg is the turning point that REALLY makes me see how much fucked up shit I just let slide back then. I don't remember if Greg fully raped me. I can't remember anything passed a certain point in the incident.

When I told my girlfriend this, her words of comfort to me were "So, I guess I won't get your first kiss anymore, will I." And my reply, not even seeing how horrible her reaction was: "No, I saved that for you. He could take from me anything he wanted, but my first kiss was for you."

She didn't tell me until a year later that what happened with Greg wasn't my fault. To this very day, I STILL blame myself, somehow. For some reason. Like I COULD have stopped it from even beginning if I wanted to. "If I wasn't such a whore."

My best friend at the time was friends with Greg. I told her about it because I worried for her. Her response was "Oh my god, that's horrible!" and then "But like... I'm still friends with him." I mean, it's bad what he did to you but I don't let stupid things like that intervene between my friendships! Really.

When she stopped talking to me because I finally got upset with her over a small thing, I again blamed myself. I had pined over our lost friendship for years until today.

I wonder why I always tried to sacrifice myself for people who only ever tried to hurt me. I wonder why those are the people I trusted more than anyone else.

Today, I'm still trying my hardest to not be immature or naive. I'm a bitch because I don't want to be taken advantage of. But for some reason, I still fight the urge to blame myself for every little thing. There are days when I try to wash myself clean, but it's as though my entire skin is made of dirt.

I once heard that people who were abused as children are more likely to be raped. Rape. Statutory Rape. I feel like I'm just another statistic.