Anonymous Story: He Probably Doesn’t Even Remember My Name

We met at a high school football game. We were both seniors, but going to different schools. He was 6’7″, easily over 220 lbs, very muscular, extremely handsome and very good at charming people. He went to my best friend’s boyfriends church, they said he had only been attending for a few months but was a nice guy, so I decided to give him a shot. I found his Instagram and we started following each other. He messaged me and we exchanged numbers, we began texting soon after. I remember being so giddy. No other guy besides my ex before him had shown me any interest, so I thought this could be something special.
I don’t remember everything that happened during the month we “dated”, but I do remember hanging out with him on a double date. We went to a local park and set up hammocks and were enjoying the late October heat when we started kissing, and he shoved his hand down my shorts. They were Nike shorts with built in underwear, so I wasn’t wearing any other underwear at the time, which I guess turned him on more. The first time he did it surprised me, no other guy had done that to me without asking my consent for it, but I figured that was what men did, not boys like I was in school with, so I let him. He commented about how I wasn’t shaved down there, how “it felt weird” and “unclean”. I liked how I had it, but he told me I should shave it or else he wouldn’t be happy, so I did.
Flash forward a week, he met my parents. He talked to my dad about sports and to my mom about his family and plans for college. He carried himself in a way that seemed so responsible, I felt as though he was someone I could be with for the long haul. After he met my parents, he took me out to eat and then dropped me back at home. He made sure I was safe, taken care of. He gave me one of his shirts to sleep in that night.
A few days later, Halloween night, he comes over with Sonic food. We eat in the kitchen, talking to my mom about how the weekend was. After were done, we go up to my room to hangout. We sit on the floor, talk, laugh, and then we start to kiss. He shoves his hand in my shorts again. He comments about how I hadn’t shaved for him like he asked, and I told him I had but it had been a while. He showed clearly that he was upset, and that made me want to make him happy. I didn’t want to lose such an “awesome” guy that had fallen for me. I try to make him happy by kissing him, but his mood doesn’t improve the whole night.
The next day, I’m in my 5th period class when I get a snapchat asking if I want to have sex. I am a virgin, I thought to myself, I want to wait for the perfect guy to give myself to. Isn’t he a perfect enough guy, though? My mind was racing. In an instant, I tell him yes. He saves the conversation, so I will never be able to deny that I said yes to having sex with him. He tells me that he’s happy I said yes. But then, he starts demanding I shave for him, that he doesn’t like hair down there. I tell him I’d try, and he calms down. He requests that I wear shorts again without underwear, or better yet, a dress without anything on underneath because “it would turn him on so much to think about it”. I told him I’d see what I could do, and he calms down again. He asks if he can go without a condom, I tell him no. He needed to have a condom so I wouldn’t get pregnant, I thought to myself, I wasn’t on birth control. He agreed, but he complained. Funny, he didn’t save that part of the conversation.
It’s that night. He texts me and tells me he is coming to pick me up. I am excited to see him, we hadn’t gone out in a while and I figured if we wouldn’t be going out if he didn’t have a fun place to go to. It hadn’t completely slipped my mind that I had told him I would have sex with him, but I guessed that he wouldn’t force it on me if I didn’t want it, since he was such a gentleman. When he got to my house, right before I walk out my mom told me to be careful, and to not go and park his car and sit in it. She knew what happened when kids went and parked their cars… and I should have listened.
He tells me he knows of a place where he fishes a lot with his cousin, he wants to show me. I agree, giddy that he wants to show me a place where he spends his time with family. On the drive there, his hand is down my shorts once again. I’m confused, I don’t know why he is doing this. I wasn’t even in that mood, but he was. He asks me to put my hand on his crotch, and I do. I was stuck in the car with him, I didn’t think I had an option. Once we got there, though, my giddiness turned to anxiousness and uneasiness. He parks the car and turns towards me.

“Are we going to have sex?” he asks me.
“I don’t know, I never have before.” I reply.
“That’s okay,” he says to me, as he unbuckles his pants “but, I need you to suck my dick. I can’t get hard unless you do.”
“I’ve never done that, and I really don’t want to.” I tell him, hoping he would respect my boundary.

Before I knew it, his pants were down, his penis was out in his hand and he was asking me, “Can you please just do it?” I just looked at him and was floored. I didn’t know what to do, how to react. The next thing I know, his hand was on the back of my head and my face is inches away from his crotch. I used both hands on his thighs and pushed myself back up. He was angry. He sat and pulled his boxers back up onto himself and exclaimed, “Are we even going to have sex?”
“Yes…” I said slowly. “Well, okay then, but it can’t be in here.” He was talking about the cab of his truck. He suggests we move to the bed of the truck. Once we get out there, he tells me to sit on the edge of the bed, and I do. He tells me to take my shorts off, but I hesitate. He gets angry. I take them off, as to not make him anymore angry than he already is.
There I am. Sitting, pant-less, on the end of a bed of a truck out in the middle of nowhere, in 40-degree weather, with a guy I had met only a month before.
He took my knees in his palms and told me to lay back, so I did. His hand brushed my crotch, and I flinched. I didn’t want this, but I didn’t want him to be angry, so I let him. He stood on the ground facing the bed of the truck. He used his hand to go inside me. That was the first time anything had been inside me. It hurt, I told him to stop, but he said I wasn’t ready and needed to relax. I didn’t know the first thing about sex, so I listened to him. He kept using his hand, I begged him to stop. I started crying. He made fun of me for crying, saying that it wouldn’t hurt if I just relaxed. After what felt like forever, he stuck his penis inside me. I told him that hurt too, I tried to get away, to put my feet on the ground but he didn’t let me. He held my legs up. I was crying silently. I could tell he was frustrated at something. Eventually, he started using his fingers again. He exclaimed that I wasn’t “wet” enough for him, and that he couldn’t get hard because I didn’t perform oral sex. I felt like a failure. I felt like I couldn’t make him happy. Once he was satisfied with how “ready’ I was, he used his penis again.
I finally got him to stop before he finished. He went to go get back into the truck, leaving me on the bed of the truck. I slowly put on my shorts, but when I got up to walk the pain I felt was unreal. It shouldn’t feel like that, I thought to myself. But, I pushed it out of my mind. He stopped to get gas on the way to take me home, and that’s when I noticed the blood. I had bled on my shorts, legs, and on him. He told me I should go get cleaned up, so I went inside the gas station bathroom and proceeded to clean off. There was so much blood. Once I was done, he takes me home, and I go to take a shower and sleep.

I never got another text.
I never got another snapchat.
He unfollowed me on social media the next day.

When I played in a basketball tournament the next day, I had to act like I wasn’t in pain. When I took a pregnancy test and it came back positive, I had to act like I wasn’t now responsible for not only myself, but an unborn child. When I went to Planned Parenthood on December 12th at 2pm, I had to explain to the doctor that I so confused about what had happened to me, but this was the decision I was making. When I went back to Planned Parenthood on December 21st at 9am, I sat in a waiting room with 3 other young girls and their mothers, looking at the same wristband on their wrist that I had on mine, and the same IV in their right arm as I had in mine.

But I never got another text.
But I never got checked up on by him.

I had to learn that he didn’t care.
He was never going to care.
He was never going to check up on me.

And while he was left to live his life, I was left to pick up the pieces of mine.