I guess you could say I have had some rather unhealthy situations with males. Even with my first boyfriend, things were not too good. The relationship started out all right, but after a short while, Tom started to get pushy. He was never happy on a night we went out unless he got something. It started out with always wanting me to go down on him. He didn't ever care where it was. I don't think we ever had any sexual contact that was not in a public place. All that mattered to him was that he got some. Things continued to get more physical between us. He started to get really pushy with me. Then one day, he decided it was time. He asked me several times that day if I wanted to have sex with him. Yes, we had been together for seven months at this time, but we were both only 15! I knew this was something that I wasn't ready for, so I told him no. He seemed to take it OK at first. We continued to mess around like usual that afternoon, or so I thought. After a short while, he asked me again, and once again seemed OK with my answer. As things continued between us, I realized something was different that day. He was doing something different, and I wasn't sure I liked it. I started to pull away from him, because I wanted it to stop. As I pulled away, I felt his penis slip out from within me. I couldn't believe that he had done that. From that day forward, whenever we went out, he always demanded some form of physical gratification. If I would refuse, he would just force it on me. When I got to the point where I just couldn't take it anymore, I finally got up the courage to break up with him. This was almost 5 months later.

Near the end of my relationship with Tom, I had turned 16, and had started working. Even before Tom and I broke up, one of the managers at work, Alex, was hitting on me. It seemed harmless, and was actually quite flattering at first. He flirted with me for about 5 months before he made any moves for me. Then, on Valentine's Day I got talked into working with him. He brought me a single rose, and some candy. Sure, it sounds sweet, but it didn't stay that way for very long. I had my doubts about this relationship early on, simply because he was 21. The first two months were great. He even agreed to go to my junior prom with me. It wasn't long after that, when things began to go downhill. One day after work, he looked at me and told me that he knew I had sex with my last boyfriend, so whenever I was ready, I should just tell him. This dumped a major weight on my shoulders. After my break-up with Tom, I was quite vulnerable, and was easily persuaded into things. I just felt like I had nothing left to lose. Why shouldn't I have sex with him too? Will it really matter?

Before I ever said anything else to him about it, he started to get pushy. One night we went for a drive out in the forest preserves. He parked the car, and we started making out. After a while, I could tell that he was very turned on. The next thing I knew, he was reaching for my pants. I tried to stop him, but when I realized that it wouldn't do much good, I stopped fighting. I didn't want him to end up hurting me. I just laid there...I couldn't move. When he was finally done, I rushed to get my pants back on. I just wanted to get out of there. He made me promise that no one would know about what happened, because that should be our business only. The next day when I went into work, almost everyone there knew about it.

Our relationship continued very much like this. As time went by, things got more and more physical between us. Eventually it got to the point where sex was the only thing there was to our relationship. We didn't go out. The only time we ever saw each other in public was at work. He was always really nice to me at work, but the respect just wasn't there when we were alone. Eventually, he didn't even get out of bed when I came over. It just became an understanding that I would let myself in, lock the door behind me, drop my clothes on the floor, and climb into bed. If I ever strayed from this ritual, he became furious with me.

After my break-up with Alex, I decided to just take a break from men. After a couple of months, one of my friends set me up with her boyfriend's best friend. At first John seemed like a great guy. Then I realized that no matter what I did, he'd never get mad at me. He was so clingy. After a few short months, he had completely smothered me.

At this point, I saw going away to college as my big break. I could get away from all this mess. I could start over. When I got to school, I got to know several guys. Some of them are still my friends now, but some of them are my worst enemies. One of the guys belongs to a fraternity. I felt comfortable going to parties at the house because I trusted him to look out for me. One night, I trusted him, and he ended up looking after me just a little bit too well.

It was a typical Friday night frat party on our campus. I went with a group of friends to the frat house that I hung out at every weekend. This weekend, my friend, whom I'll refer to as "Terry", decided that I should be 'introduced' to the wonders of vodka. For several hours, him and I shared screwdrivers, and I seemed to be doing OK. Eventually, he ran out of orange juice, so he offered me a shot of vodka. At the time, I was quite toasted, so I figured it really wouldn't matter. I was too drunk to feel how harsh it was on my system. After about 5 or 6 shots, we decided to go downstairs to join what was left of the party, and dance for a little while. It was not long after that when I began to totally feel the effects of everything I drank.

A little background information...Terry and I had been friends for a little over a month. It was October of my freshman year of college. I was 18 years old. He was just a sophomore. Terry had asked me on several occasions if I would go out with him, and I always told him no. Despite his attempts to disregard my answers, I still hung out with him. I did this because some of my friends had known him longer, and led me to believe that he was trustworthy.

Well, back to the party. I asked him if he wanted to sit down. There were at least five or six chairs available at the time, so I went to sit down next to him. Unfortunately, I didn't quite make it to the chair, and I ended up falling into his lap. Rather than realize that I was completely drunk, and that it was just about time for me to go home, he took this as an invitation.When I think back, I vaguely remember him saying "well, its nice to see that you changed your mind." Apparently, he thought that I wanted him. He began kissing my neck and chest...right there in front of everyone. After a while, he decided to take me back upstairs. I had hoped that he would just let me pass out in his room, but I didn't have the strength to say anything. Once I was in his bed, I figured that there wasn't much he could do if I passed out. WRONG!!!

When I woke up, sometime later that night, I was laying on top of him. I remember him saying something about me needing to stay still so he could get it in. By the time I had realized what was going on, he was already inside of me...there was not much else I could do. I ended up falling back to sleep. When morning rolled around, I got up, and told him that I was leaving. He insisted on walking me back across campus. He told me about how much he had enjoyed what had happened, and what disgusted me the most was his pride in the fact that his three roommates were all in the room at the time, and that none of them noticed. He thought it was some major accomplishment. He didn't see anything wrong with the whole thing, especially the fact that my neck and chest were black and blue with hickeys.

I will never forget laying in my bed that morning. I grabbed the coldest object in my fridge and placed it against my neck to ease the pain. Unfortunately, controlling my emotional pain was not as simple. I just couldn't believe that he had done this to me. At that point I was still in shock. For a long time, I felt like it was my fault. I went back to the house the next night to confront him. As soon as I walked in, he tried to put his arm around me and kiss me. I told him that we needed to talk, so we went outside. When I told him how I felt about what he had done, he gave me tears. He asked how I could possibly accuse him of doing such a thing. He just wanted to make me feel sorry for him, and since I was so vulnerable at the time, it actually worked. He basically had me brainwashed to believe that I had wanted it. He even had the balls to try to call me for several weeks afterwards. I attempted to solve this problem by seeking out a new relationship and burying this fact in the back of my mind. This wasn't the smartest thing for me to have done. I tried to make it all go away, but I really just made it worse.

I took me about a year and a half after this experience before I could really deal with the pain that it caused me. I have since realized that I don't feel sorry for him at all. I have found one of the drawbacks of having been on a small campus, which is that I saw him several times a week for quite some time. The sight of him disgusts me. His face constantly reminds me of all the pain he caused me that night. Unfortunately, this is pain that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

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