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Statutory Rape: My Story

You know what sucks? Statutory rape. It's such a confusing topic, especially when, at the time it occurred, you thought it was consensual. If you're new to my blog, I suggest you read this before continuing. As a disclaimer, the timeline is a bit blurry for me. However, using my childhood diary, I've been able to piece a lot of it together.


The Man came into my life when I was 12 years old. Thanks to my long history of getting bullied and my oh-so-unhealthy self-esteem, his kindness resulted in an immediate crush. On Christmas night of 2009 (I think), I decided to tell my closest cousin at the time, who was also 12, about my crush. We both agreed it was a good idea to let the Man know about this crush. So I texted him.


I felt butterflies. The Man was my crush. Before him, I had never been the first one to admit to a crush. His response was better than I expected. The Man seemed flattered. He seemed interested. He didn't reject me. The age gap wasn't even a factor he viewed as a negative.


As the weeks went by, the Man and I texted more frequently. We'd talk almost every night.

He'd call me around 3am on most nights. I felt so special. I felt seen. Slowly, sex became the main subject of discussion. My virginity seemed to intrigue him. I didn't want him to think I was a child, so I never backed down from the topic.


By January 2010, when I was still 12, I was under the impression that the Man was my boyfriend. The Man would call me every night to tell me that he missed me. He'd tell me he had dreams about me at night. I'd remind him that the last thing I wanted was to be a teenage mom. He'd tell me that he would take care of me and not hurt me.


By March 2010, still 12, I was starting to lose interest in the Man. I sensed I was being manipulated, but due to the situation surrounding us, I'd see him often. He started calling me while I was in school, and there was something about him that was starting to make me really uncomfortable.


One night, I had a dream. Looking back now, it was a warning, and I regret not saying anything to anyone about it. We were laying on the bed. The Man was pleasuring another person with a sex toy, and I was next. When he was about to get to me, my mom called him from the dining room, so he went. While he was gone, I realized what was happening, and I immediately regretted being there, so I went to look for my mom. When I entered the hallway, my sister stopped me to tell me to be careful with the Man and to not stay in the same room as him. I kept on walking. A few days later, an elderly woman told my mom that she saw the Man raping some kids and also warned her that I could have been a victim. My mom then asked me, and I told her the truth. When my dad found out, he started beating me up until the police came and took him. I ended up crying in church.


A few days later, the Man told me he dreamt someone had raped me. Days after that, my mom told me she had a dream that I was pregnant. The universe was trying to warn me.


Then, my birthday hit. I was finally 13. The Man gave me a cake and he was the first one to call me to wish me a happy birthday. He also called me that night to talk about his penis, and I continuously tried to change the subject. The calls continued almost every night. And I would answer every night. Every call seemed to eventually end up in the Man talking about his penis and talking about having sex with me. Every call I tried to switch the subject. Then a different tactic ensued: he wanted to be my first kiss.


I knew I was being manipulated, but every time I tried to break things off, he'd be more persistent and make himself be the victim. During the summer of 2010, I broke up with the Man, but that next day, when no one was home, he came over. That was my first time being completely alone with the Man. When I opened the door, my first kiss was stolen. I wasn't ready for it. I knew he was coming over, but I didn't expect my first kiss to happen. Instead, I had placed knives all over the house because I sensed my dream could come true that day.


Suddenly, we were in the living room. His penis was in my face within seconds. Was I to stab him with a knife then? He told me it felt like I knew what I was doing. He wanted more, but I pushed him away. Thankfully he left.


Things got more intense after that. He started being pushy even when others were at home. We were alone in the living room. We made out, but then he touched me. No one had ever touched my vulva before. I did not like it. His intensity grew as I tried pulling away. I did not like it. Eventually, he let go when I told him I would yell if he didn't stop.


I tried breaking things off with him. But every time I did, I felt lonely. Life was boring without him. I felt so ugly, unwanted, and disgusting when he wasn't giving me attention. I craved his attention, even when I knew he was full of shit. I hated how every conversation ended up in sex talk, but I felt that if he didn't get what he wanted, I would lose him . . . or even worse . . . he would force it.


Eventually, I let him in. I felt no pleasure at all. I remember just staring at the ceiling while it happened. I couldn't wait for it to be over. For a moment I realized he had taken off his condom. I pushed him off immediately. Then he finished. What was all the hype about? Sex was awful.


A few days after that, I still lost him. He called me to tell me he was in love with another woman and he was moving in with her.


For years I lied to myself by telling myself that my dream hadn't come true because I had consented. If anything, I was stupid for having consented. I told myself I had known better.


I was groomed for almost a year. When it finally happened, I was immediately dumped. It took me 10 years to not be triggered by a penis in my face or by my vulva being touched. 10 years. But, all my triggers aren't completely gone. They have evolved. I lied to myself for years telling myself that I wasn't a victim. But I was.

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