This was something I was thinking about and decided to post…
The first date went really well. We met at Applebee’s along Emily Drive. We talked for hours. He made me laugh, I made him laugh. I really had a great time. After the date I was perplexed to find that I had no physical attraction to him. He wasn’t bad looking. In fact, he’s “my type” of guy. Big. He’s tall and broad. A hefty guy, but not “fat”. We set up a second date that included lunch and ATV riding. Again, we had a great time during lunch. The conversations were easy, not forced.
We then headed out to the muddy hills of the small town. He only had the one ATV, which was fine with me. I had no qualms sitting on the back, hanging on to him as we bounded up and over the tops of steep hillsides. The day was beautiful! Clear, blue sky. Soft breeze.
After about an hour of splattering ourselves with mud we stopped to enjoy the view from the topmost part of the hills. We could see all of Clarksburg. He asked if he could kiss me. I declined. My face burned with embarrassment as I tried to explain how wonderful I thought he was and yet how I wasn’t physically attracted to him. I didn’t really understand, but maybe he would be patient.
We continued riding for a few more hours. He didn’t ask for another kiss during subsequent breaks, but we continued our easy conversations.
We got back to his place as the sun was setting. I thought that I would have headed home after cleaning up a bit. He suggested a movie instead. We lounged on the couch watching Zodiac, a scary movie about a real-life serial killer. The movie did not do the story justice. It had been poorly produced. He wanted to cuddle up. I figured, why not? I like cuddling. I had no bodily reaction while laying in his arms.
He started carressing my breasts. Still, nothing. Should I stop him? I mean, it’s just fondling. Right? His hands continued to wander and yet I didn’t stop him. “I like being touched,” I told myself. His hands ventured up and under my shirt and down my pants. He rubbed my clitoris and nipples at the same time. The thing is, any girl will get a little wet if stimulated. My wetness was simply that – a reaction from stimulation – not attraction. I did nothing to stop him.
He led me to the bedroom. I said nothing. He turned off the lights. I said nothing. He undressed me. I said nothing. He kissed me, touched me. I said nothing.
He laid me on the bed. “I don’t want to do this,” I thought. Tears spilled down my face, silent tears. My heart pounded with shame, dread, horror. As he entered me, I cried. Silently, I cried. I quickly wiped my eyes after he was done. I scooped up my clothes and excused myself to the bathroom before crying some more. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror. I hated myself.
I will always hate myself.
I don’t always hate myself… This is how I felt then. True, I have some self-esteem issues, some of which have nothing to do with this event… I can say though that enough time has past that I’m not as damaged as I once was.