A Brief History Of Men And Things I Didn’t Ask For

Molly Belle

When I was 12, I went to my first party where we all spontaneously jumped into the pool and river in our t-shirts and underwear. It was my first party with older boys there. That night we played spin the bottle. My first kiss was a boy whose name I no longer remember.

He whispered to me when I leaned in that I could pass if I wanted to. I kissed him on the corner of his lips.

When I was 15, I went to my first high school party, had my first real drink. That night a boy who liked me kissed me. We had to share the sofa when it came time to sleep, and he sloppily kissed my neck and his hand kept wandering and grabbing even after I kept telling him no, NO. I had to push him off me and run into the bathroom to get him just to stop. He was 18. The next morning my best friend and her boyfriend laughed when I told them even as I had tears in my eyes and the large, red and bruise like marks on my neck wouldn’t go away.

He whispered sorry to me while we were cleaning up the empty beer bottles.

When I was 18, my best friend and I used our fake IDs to get into a club on New Year’s Eve. I drank a lot and a man who was talking to my friend introduced me to his roommate. He kept trying to kiss me, grabbing my face even though I told him I didn’t want it, that he should find someone else because I was interested in what he wanted. I was so drunk that at one point I followed my friend and these men into a taxi and I turned to her and asked, “what are we doing?” before blacking out.

I remember him laying me down on his bed and I passed out. I woke up to my shirt and bra pushed up to my neck and my bottoms off. I was alone, halfway off his bed, my bottom half laying on the floor. He was in the living room with his arm around another girl and when I ran to the bathroom I saw a used condom on the floor. I vomited.

My best friend laughed at the fact that I “fell asleep” while he raped me. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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