(no subject)
Ok, I had this posted up on here a few days ago, but I revised it because I wasn't totally diggin' it.
There's still massive work that needs to be done. But this is the rough draft, thus far.
For a girl of fifteen, any relationship lasting more than two weeks was surely one of true love. I had grown up in a fatherless home, and was raised by an overprotective, feminist mother. Because of that, when my second relationship hit the three month mark, I was almost positive he was "the one". Or at least for a while.
We usually spent our Saturday's together, because we were in different grades, and therefore never got to spend any time together in school. I had been going through a very difficult patch in my life, struggling with my sophomore year in high school, depression, and the typical self-loathing phase of adolescence. He had really helped me out with my problems, because he came from similar situations in life. After weeks of deep conversations, I decided that not only was this boy my best friend, but I was in love with him too.
Now of course, being the naïve little girl I was, when he told me he loved me, I was quick to believe him. I remember sitting on his couch, when he kissed me and first told me he was in love with me. He gave me all the same stories that I'd later come to hear over and over again, and I believed every word of it.
He called me that morning to ask if I wanted to hang out later. Of course I had wanted to, so I accepted the offer. He said he was excited, and so was I. Because we lived pretty close to each other, I walked over to his house. My mother had to work that night, so she would be picking me up around ten. I had gone into his house, kissed him hello, and went to go sit on his couch.
“Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to watch a movie in my room or something.” He asked. I didn’t think much of it, so I said sure. Little did I know that he wasn’t interested in the movie.
About twenty minutes into some movie I obviously didn’t remember, he started moving his hands up and down my leg. It made me a little bit uncomfortable, but I thought he was just trying to be romantic. Then he kissed me, and I kissed him back. He pushed me back onto his bed, and tried putting his hand in between my legs. I moved his hand away, but he put it right back and told me to just let it happen. I was not used to this, and I was really starting to have second thoughts about it, but he was bigger than me, and was lying on top of me, so I couldn’t really move. He was kissing me hard, ramming his tongue down my throat, and was trying to undo my belt. I knew that I had suggested the idea of sex a few days prior to this, and maybe tonight was going to be the night. Even though I had never really thought of how I was going to lose my virginity, this definitely was not the way.
His mother came home at some point, I’m almost sure of, because I had heard the front door open. They lived in a small house, and I knew that she was going to be right on the other side of that fragile wooden door. “Are you comfortable doing all this with your mom home?” I asked, hoping that maybe he’d take that into consideration and get off of me.
“Yeah sure. It’s no problem, as long as you don’t scream. I’ll just turn the stereo on.” He said. And with that, he grabbed his remote, which was right near my head, and turned the stereo on. This heavy metal music started playing, and I was becoming increasingly scared.
By this point, my pants were off, and his were undone. My heart was beating so fast, and I was really scared to tell him to stop. He told me he loved me, and I loved him, and I was pretty sure that I was only nervous because it was my first time. But he was really starting to get rough with me. He was holding my arms up above my head, and he was entering me so viciously, it hurt.
It hurt worse than I imagined. I tried not to make any noise, but I kept squirming and let out the occasional moan, but not in the pleasurable way. He just kept pushing himself into me, quickly and violently, and I’m sure I even told him to stop, but told me to shut up because the pain wasn’t really that bad. My insides were shaking; this boy that claimed to love me so much was stripping away all forms of any positive emotion I ever held towards him.
After what seemed like hours of pain mixed with fear, it was all over. He got off of me, put his clothes back on, and looked at the clock. He told me to put my clothes back on because it was almost time for me to go. Just the way he said it so nonchalantly, as if nothing had even happened, made my body feel numb.
I put my clothes back on and kissed him goodbye. Bruised, bleeding, and sore, I walked to the corner of the street, just like every Saturday night, and waited for my mother.
A week later, the relationship was over.
* * *
I don’t remember her name. I don’t even really remember what she looked like. But a mutual friend introduced me to her, and we had hit it off pretty well. I was looking for sex, and she was completely clueless about relationships. She believed every single fucking thing that came out of my mouth.
My parents had gone through a divorce before I was born, and I never got to meet my father. But my mom was pretty young when she got pregnant, and never had a chance to have fun. So, by the time I hit thirteen, she would leave me home alone so she could go out to the clubs and bring home drunk men.
I guess I was never taught how to treat women. I was never given any tips or hints on how to go about this romance stuff. I didn’t even know how to ask. If I wanted it, I’d just go out and get it. I like to call it “assertiveness”.
I remember that night though. I knew there was going to be nothing to do, so I decided to call her and see what was up. She did that typical chick thing and asked how I was, and what I was doing, and all that bullshit. I mean, we had been dating for a while, I guess. But none of that stuff really mattered to me; I just faked interest. I don’t even know why I kept her around so long. She was nice and shit, but she was just too hard to get anything out of, if you know what I’m saying.
Anyway, she had come over and was totally giving off some vibes. I really thought that maybe I could get somewhere tonight, so I figured I'd tell her I love her. Because, I guess I did. What the hell did I know? I was almost sixteen, and guys don't ever really know anything about love anyway. I asked her if she wanted to go watch a movie in my room, and she just smirked and said, “Yeah, sure. A movie in your room. I know what you’re up to, mister”. But she got up from the couch, kissed me, and walked into my room.
We started watching the movie, and I was getting bored. There was a girl on my bed, and I was DEFINITELY not going to just sit there and let this night pass by uneventfully. Her head was resting on my shoulder, and her hand was on my knee. So I decided to try and be romantic, and I kissed her.
We were making out for a little bit, and I tried putting my hand in between her legs. She tried moving them, but like I said before, when I want something, I get it. Plus, she loved me. She’d obviously have to let me do this.
I laid her down on the bed, and began taking her clothes off. She said something about my mom coming home, but I said as long as she was quiet, everything would be all right. I wasn’t trying to make her nervous or anything, but I knew that she wouldn’t do anything on her own free will. So, I just took matters into my own hands.
Halfway through, I had realized that I had gone about this all wrong. She was a sweet girl, but I had absolutely no attraction to her whatsoever. I had begun to get really angry, because I was having sex with a girl I didn’t care about, and she just let it happen. All along, she believed me when I said I loved her, and wanted to be with her for a while. She just always looked at me with those big, stupid doe eyes, and smiled. I wanted to choke her. I really did. I wanted to gag her with my cock, and tell her what a stupid, ignorant ugly bitch she was. At that moment, I hated her. But really, I just hate myself.
When it was done, I just wanted to be alone. I wanted to jump into the shower, and scrub all the sin off of me. I had gotten what I wanted, and I would make sure she knew about it. Just, not that night. She seemed kind of shaken up, and that made me really happy. I wanted to scare her. I wanted to hurt her. I wanted her to leave me alone. But she kissed me, told me she loved me, and walked out the door. I watched her walk to the corner from my second-story apartment window, and prayed that she'd be able to hear me call her "slut".
There's still massive work that needs to be done. But this is the rough draft, thus far.
For a girl of fifteen, any relationship lasting more than two weeks was surely one of true love. I had grown up in a fatherless home, and was raised by an overprotective, feminist mother. Because of that, when my second relationship hit the three month mark, I was almost positive he was "the one". Or at least for a while.
We usually spent our Saturday's together, because we were in different grades, and therefore never got to spend any time together in school. I had been going through a very difficult patch in my life, struggling with my sophomore year in high school, depression, and the typical self-loathing phase of adolescence. He had really helped me out with my problems, because he came from similar situations in life. After weeks of deep conversations, I decided that not only was this boy my best friend, but I was in love with him too.
Now of course, being the naïve little girl I was, when he told me he loved me, I was quick to believe him. I remember sitting on his couch, when he kissed me and first told me he was in love with me. He gave me all the same stories that I'd later come to hear over and over again, and I believed every word of it.
He called me that morning to ask if I wanted to hang out later. Of course I had wanted to, so I accepted the offer. He said he was excited, and so was I. Because we lived pretty close to each other, I walked over to his house. My mother had to work that night, so she would be picking me up around ten. I had gone into his house, kissed him hello, and went to go sit on his couch.
“Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to watch a movie in my room or something.” He asked. I didn’t think much of it, so I said sure. Little did I know that he wasn’t interested in the movie.
About twenty minutes into some movie I obviously didn’t remember, he started moving his hands up and down my leg. It made me a little bit uncomfortable, but I thought he was just trying to be romantic. Then he kissed me, and I kissed him back. He pushed me back onto his bed, and tried putting his hand in between my legs. I moved his hand away, but he put it right back and told me to just let it happen. I was not used to this, and I was really starting to have second thoughts about it, but he was bigger than me, and was lying on top of me, so I couldn’t really move. He was kissing me hard, ramming his tongue down my throat, and was trying to undo my belt. I knew that I had suggested the idea of sex a few days prior to this, and maybe tonight was going to be the night. Even though I had never really thought of how I was going to lose my virginity, this definitely was not the way.
His mother came home at some point, I’m almost sure of, because I had heard the front door open. They lived in a small house, and I knew that she was going to be right on the other side of that fragile wooden door. “Are you comfortable doing all this with your mom home?” I asked, hoping that maybe he’d take that into consideration and get off of me.
“Yeah sure. It’s no problem, as long as you don’t scream. I’ll just turn the stereo on.” He said. And with that, he grabbed his remote, which was right near my head, and turned the stereo on. This heavy metal music started playing, and I was becoming increasingly scared.
By this point, my pants were off, and his were undone. My heart was beating so fast, and I was really scared to tell him to stop. He told me he loved me, and I loved him, and I was pretty sure that I was only nervous because it was my first time. But he was really starting to get rough with me. He was holding my arms up above my head, and he was entering me so viciously, it hurt.
It hurt worse than I imagined. I tried not to make any noise, but I kept squirming and let out the occasional moan, but not in the pleasurable way. He just kept pushing himself into me, quickly and violently, and I’m sure I even told him to stop, but told me to shut up because the pain wasn’t really that bad. My insides were shaking; this boy that claimed to love me so much was stripping away all forms of any positive emotion I ever held towards him.
After what seemed like hours of pain mixed with fear, it was all over. He got off of me, put his clothes back on, and looked at the clock. He told me to put my clothes back on because it was almost time for me to go. Just the way he said it so nonchalantly, as if nothing had even happened, made my body feel numb.
I put my clothes back on and kissed him goodbye. Bruised, bleeding, and sore, I walked to the corner of the street, just like every Saturday night, and waited for my mother.
A week later, the relationship was over.
* * *
I don’t remember her name. I don’t even really remember what she looked like. But a mutual friend introduced me to her, and we had hit it off pretty well. I was looking for sex, and she was completely clueless about relationships. She believed every single fucking thing that came out of my mouth.
My parents had gone through a divorce before I was born, and I never got to meet my father. But my mom was pretty young when she got pregnant, and never had a chance to have fun. So, by the time I hit thirteen, she would leave me home alone so she could go out to the clubs and bring home drunk men.
I guess I was never taught how to treat women. I was never given any tips or hints on how to go about this romance stuff. I didn’t even know how to ask. If I wanted it, I’d just go out and get it. I like to call it “assertiveness”.
I remember that night though. I knew there was going to be nothing to do, so I decided to call her and see what was up. She did that typical chick thing and asked how I was, and what I was doing, and all that bullshit. I mean, we had been dating for a while, I guess. But none of that stuff really mattered to me; I just faked interest. I don’t even know why I kept her around so long. She was nice and shit, but she was just too hard to get anything out of, if you know what I’m saying.
Anyway, she had come over and was totally giving off some vibes. I really thought that maybe I could get somewhere tonight, so I figured I'd tell her I love her. Because, I guess I did. What the hell did I know? I was almost sixteen, and guys don't ever really know anything about love anyway. I asked her if she wanted to go watch a movie in my room, and she just smirked and said, “Yeah, sure. A movie in your room. I know what you’re up to, mister”. But she got up from the couch, kissed me, and walked into my room.
We started watching the movie, and I was getting bored. There was a girl on my bed, and I was DEFINITELY not going to just sit there and let this night pass by uneventfully. Her head was resting on my shoulder, and her hand was on my knee. So I decided to try and be romantic, and I kissed her.
We were making out for a little bit, and I tried putting my hand in between her legs. She tried moving them, but like I said before, when I want something, I get it. Plus, she loved me. She’d obviously have to let me do this.
I laid her down on the bed, and began taking her clothes off. She said something about my mom coming home, but I said as long as she was quiet, everything would be all right. I wasn’t trying to make her nervous or anything, but I knew that she wouldn’t do anything on her own free will. So, I just took matters into my own hands.
Halfway through, I had realized that I had gone about this all wrong. She was a sweet girl, but I had absolutely no attraction to her whatsoever. I had begun to get really angry, because I was having sex with a girl I didn’t care about, and she just let it happen. All along, she believed me when I said I loved her, and wanted to be with her for a while. She just always looked at me with those big, stupid doe eyes, and smiled. I wanted to choke her. I really did. I wanted to gag her with my cock, and tell her what a stupid, ignorant ugly bitch she was. At that moment, I hated her. But really, I just hate myself.
When it was done, I just wanted to be alone. I wanted to jump into the shower, and scrub all the sin off of me. I had gotten what I wanted, and I would make sure she knew about it. Just, not that night. She seemed kind of shaken up, and that made me really happy. I wanted to scare her. I wanted to hurt her. I wanted her to leave me alone. But she kissed me, told me she loved me, and walked out the door. I watched her walk to the corner from my second-story apartment window, and prayed that she'd be able to hear me call her "slut".