*T* please read with caution – ref – sexual violence
It doesn’t matter how old I get the subject still bothers me. In my teens people would often discuss ages and the person. I know that I had an on/off ‘high school sweetheart’ that I would like to have been the chosen one. In the 20s it’s often joked about. And of course as relationships become more serious often partners want to know your ‘number.’ – just how many sexual partners have you had. I have always hated those conversations. Both with partners and friends. The subject can even come up in innocent banter with colleagues or over drinks with acquaintances. It is on the surface an innocent subject. And often people recall fond memories or amusing tales.
Would my first time have been on rose petals by candlelight listening to Michael Bolton while his parents were out for the evening? That is perhaps how I would to think it would have been. Sweet, nervous, fumbling, uncomfortable. But something I could look back on as a turning point in my life as I grew up. And know that I chose the man and chose the time. That I was respected and that the moment would live as a tiny fragment in our minds for years to come. Perhaps be the cause of an odd smile. Is that how it is for some people? That’s how I imagine it.
For me now it’s a sordid, dirty uncomfortable subject. The details Shared between me, him, the police, some medical professionals. Touched upon in therapy to this day as I try to make sense of it.
Memories cause nightmares and panic. Affected my pregnancies and the way I handle medical appointments.
One night that should be a hazy memory but can bring the faintest smile to my lips is instead my darkest nightmare. Bringing fear, shame, confusion, misery, loneliness.
I’d like to think that as I get older it bothers me less. But the media mentions virginity often. The conversation comes up often enough. I can’t escape the fact that my first time that is, am I led to believe, supposed to be so special, so momentous, so tender, was a thing of aggression, anger and hate. It wasn’t my choice. It wasn’t my time. I wasn’t ready.
I need to find peace somehow.