So, Like... Yeah... and Stuff.

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Banned Member
***I apologize if this sounds like an excerpt out of some weird noir novel. It's just how I express myself. It also gets a bit graphic, though I tried to keep it down a bit.***

I had my first sexual encounter when I was seven years old.

Well, "sexual" probably isn't the right word; at least not from my point of view. Confusing, definitely. Frightening, obviously. But not sexual.

During summers as a kid, I would be left at a public day care several miles across town from where I lived. It was a shabby little community center made up of an old, sorely-used gymnasium and several smaller rooms in which about thirty of us kids were jammed for half the day, day after day for seven to eight weeks out of the year. The "day care" itself was run by a bunch of teens trying to make a few extra bucks so they could by weed, or something. Whatever.

Anyway, I never really got along with the other kids there. When they would go out for sports, I would beg to stay in and play the Sega Genesis they had set up in the main room. When it came to pick teams for group activities, I was chosen last and made a spectacle of. When we had free time, I would sit alone in the darkest corner, playing with the Hot Wheels I had brought from home. You get the idea: I wasn't very popular.

One afternoon, a few of the boys made a fort out of some chairs and blankets that were lying around. I remember, they were in there playing Sonic the Hedgehog on a hand-held Sega Game Gear. It was one of my favorite games at the time, so naturally, I wanted in. The other boys, however, weren't too welcoming. They kicked me out within a moment of my entering, and I ran crying to one of the teenagers who was supposed to be keeping an eye on everyone.

All I remember of him was that he had a pointy black goatee, was wearing a Metallica t-shirt, and had about a ton of metal chains hanging from and around his pants. I rushed to him, sobbing and crying about how I didn't fit in, how no one would play with me, and how I had trouble making friends. He asked me if I wanted to talk. I said yes, and he led me into the gymnasium where we sat on a bench behind a half-wall. He gave me some of the fries he had been eating and I cried a bit more about how much I hated it there and how badly I wanted to go home.

After a while, I started to feel the call of nature. I told him that I had to pee, but also that I didn't want to walk to the restroom, which was across the hall and past all the boys who would have certainly be able to see that I had been crying. The teenager said I could use his empty water bottle to pee in. So I did. I didn't even think twice of him standing there. He was basically an adult to me; and hell, I'd peed in front of my parents before. So I stood up, right there, pulled down my pants and started to urinate.

For some reason (but probably due to my life-long inability to develop proper hand-eye coordination) I couldn't quite aim "it" right. I got a little on the wall, and in embarrassment stopped myself mid-stream. He asked me if I needed help. I said no. He must have been pretty determined, however, because he crept over to me, put his arm around my waist and, well, attempted to "aim" for me. I remember his words as though they are part of my name:

"Here. I'll do it for you."

He held onto me even after I stopped urinating, then asked if I was finished.

"I'm done," I said.

"You sure you got it all?"

This is when I started feeling weird. Deep down, I knew this was one of those situations in which I should have called for an adult (I was pretty sure where he was touching qualified as a "bathing suit" area), but a new, foreign emotion seemed to have paralyzed my voice. I was terrified, confused and powerless, yet at the same time felt, to some extent, that I liked what was happening. Of course, I wasn't old enough to know better -- and confusion and fright certainly played their roles -- but a small but definite part of me didn't want him to stop.

He kept his hand on me for about a minute longer, trying to "get all the drops out," then asked me if I had ever kissed anyone before. I said no, none other than my mom. He kissed me on the cheek, and then for some length on my lips. Then, suddenly, for some reason, he let go, told me to zip up my pants and to go play Sega Genesis. Being a total nerd, I thought it a grand idea, and I spent the rest of the day playing fighting games with some of the other kids. From that day on -- and I have no idea why -- I never really thought about what happened that afternoon.

And after that day, I never saw him again.

I've never told this story to anyone; not my parents, nor my friends, nor even the plethora of therapists I've been to. I guess the anonymity this site offers gave me the balls to post it. I don't know why, but I feel a little better than usual.

Anyway, thanks for reading,
Power Word Fabulous
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total eclipse

SF Friend
Staff Alumni
glad you were able to tell that story finally letting it out I hope in time you can share that with your therapist as well so you can get some help to heal Took courage to tell us i hope you have that same courage to tell your therapist hugs


Antiquities Friend
Im so glad ur back :) its been quiet round here without u and on a sadder not *giant hug* for your post but u are very brave to put it out there ! xx
you are very brave to write this down. well done.
i hope you can tell your therapist, one day. that way you can put the memory where it belongs, in the past.


Banned Member
you are very brave to write this down. well done.
i hope you can tell your therapist, one day. that way you can put the memory where it belongs, in the past.
Oddly enough, it's never terribly bugged me. Not sure why. Compartmentalization, maybe. Who knows?

Anyway, thanks for reading.
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