Emma

I wrote this a little while ago, and it’s kind of been sitting in my computer. It’s an experience I don’t know what to do with. Like a not-that-bad-but-still-kind-of-off situation. But I feel like it tells an extremely common story so I thought I would post.

When I bumped into you again after a couple years, we caught up and chatted about old times. We talked about people we used to know, the stupid things we did as dumb teenagers. Then you asked what I hoped you wouldn’t ask, “Remember that time we had sex?” I laughed, I said I remembered. You said, “You got so angry at me after?” I said, “Yah.” I changed the subject. What I wish I said was this:

Yes, I remember when we had sex. I remember how you asked me if I wanted to have sex and I said no. I remember that you lay on top of me and tried to change my mind. I remember that I said I didn’t want to. I remember that you didn’t move. I remember that you made me feel ashamed of being a virgin. You pushed me until I finally agreed. I said fine. You said, “Ok, take off your pants”. I took off my pants and you had sex with me. I remember how much it hurt, and that I turned my face away so you wouldn’t see that I was in pain. I remember how after you were ...