He was my first boyfriend, I was just about to turn 16 and he was 17.
Home alone, a month into dating, he knew I wasn’t ready. But he made me choose, either I gave him oral or I slept with him. Forcing me onto him time slowed and I laid there numb, unable to speak out or even cry. He told me I’d done my duty as a girlfriend, that I was his fifth like it was a badge of honour I should wear with pride. I felt trapped, was this what it was supposed to be like? He was meant to make me feel safe, could trust, someone I thought cared for me, was my friend but he used my naivety and abused it.
It took three years before I felt safe enough to get close to someone again, and the first time I cried for hours. It was the first time I finally allowed myself to admit I hadn’t consented, the first time I could talk to my friends without feeling ashamed of what had happened, accepting that my first time was rape and that my rapist was my boyfriend.
It’s not all men, but it happens even when you know them
Words by Anonymous