The party was roaring and the alcohol was flowing. I was 16 years old in the summer of 1986. Like many 16 year old girls, I was out on a Saturday night with friends, laughing, drinking underage and partying. A boy I’d just started to date was there. It was a perfect summer party. Until it wasn’t.
After a lot of drinking and a lot of flirting, the boy and I went into a bedroom and started making out. Consensually. Before the word consent was in rotation, we both chose to go into a bedroom and make out. We weren’t dating long, I thought we were going to be kissing. While this was NOT the age of affirmative consent, we just went with the flow and kissed. And it was perfect. Until it wasn’t.
Until he suddenly straddled my face, unzipped his pants and said ‘suck my dick.’ I was stunned into silence and tried to get up. I said “NO.” He didn’t move. He said “Please,” while he held my hands on the side of my head as I tried to push him off. I said “NO.” He said “Come on, why are we in here then?” “Get off. No.” I said again. He didn’t move right away, but finally got off me. I sat up, he jumped off the bed, called me a bitch and walked out the door.
Sitting there I felt stunned, angry, embarrassed and ashamed. I fought tears. The incident sobered me up quickly. I waited for a while in the bedroom while I tried to compose myself.
When I walked out of the room, the stares from everyone felt like a spotlight shining directly on me. He was at the center of the crowd in the living room, sitting on a couch with a girl giggling. At me. Luckily, two friends were close by, I asked them to leave and we headed out the front door.
I felt humiliated and angry. I couldn’t believe this happened to me. How could he? Why did he? My friends were infuriated for me. They said it wasn’t my fault. We all called him an asshole. We walked home…
This post is part one of three on my story from 32 years ago. I will post part two tomorrow. There’s much more to read.
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