Have you ever wondered what happens when a previously sexually abused girl meets a boy who makes her feel amazing and who doesn’t try to pressure her into anything she’s not comfortable with? She kind of starts to like him. In fact, she spends the night in various states of undress rounding a base or two. Ah yes, she finds a context in which she likes baseball.

Then she spends the next evening with him. And the next.

The fact that he’s someone she’s not supposed to be involved with stops mattering to her. She stops caring if her family realizes that something might be going on.

What happens next when things go a little further and she freaks out? He seem to understand and doesn’t push. He asks what the story is and listens to it. He responds when he sees fear in her eyes and kisses her face until she’s okay again. He asks if she’s afraid it will hurt. She says no an that it’s too hard to explain. She can’t control that reaction. Then they go back at it.

She’s not dumb; she knows the attraction is mostly physical. She knows that this isn’t relationship material. She doesn’t even really want a relationship. She lies in bed the next morning chatting with her sister.

me: The stupid thing is that I still considered having sex with him and might have if we hadn’t been on Mom’s couch
Sister Psych: Do you really like him that much?
me: Um, I like what he can do.
Sister Psych: haha. ok.
me: I was trying to decide if that was worth it

She decides that the experience is worth more than the story. So, she musters up her courage and tells him flat out, “I want to have sex with you.” He agrees. Big surprise.

She’s surprised by multiple elements of the whole thing. Somehow she’s making noises she’s never heard herself make before. She’s not doing it on purpose. She’s glad it’s dark because it’s making her blush.

And what happens when she stops focusing on the moment and remembers some of what she’s been through (see first sentence)? She starts crying. Oh motherfucker, she starts crying. She tries to stop but she can’t. Awareness of the moment returns and she’s embarrassed beyond anything… there are no words.

He stops, kisses all over her face, puts his hands on her cheeks, tells her its okay, and gets her a glass of water. They had already discussed that she might have this sort of reaction. She gets her shit back together and starts laughing. Then she starts kissing him again. She’s not done.

They spend all of the next day in the presence of others. She just wants to pull him into a closet and jump his bones. They have one moment when everyone has left but one other person. That one person is going to run to the corner store. She considers changing the locks. They have five minutes. What do you think they did with that time… Five minutes is never enough. Never. Not for either of them.

He’s enjoying watching her squirm all day, the bastard.

He calls her a poor deprived girl and she reminds him that today he’s the one depriving her. They can’t get alone. He has to leave. She acts petulant.

She makes empty threats for what she’ll do if he doesn’t come back and finish the job soon. She has to make up for lost time after all, she’s waited 23 and a half years (minus 25 days)… not that she’s counting.

She thinks that this is important to share with the world. She doesn’t care who sees it and finds out that she’s had sex now. She spent so many years afraid of letting anyone touch her in any context and would flinch at even a pat on the shoulder. She’s had so many body issues that she was always afraid of anyone seeing her in any state of undress. She feared that she would never have a normal sexual experience.

It surprised her that she felt no shame at all about being naked, she didn’t request the lights being turned off or try to hide. If not yet proud, she’s at least content with her body.

It may have taken fourteen years to get over the trauma of what happened to her and nine years to heal from the second time but she did heal. Despite walking away from faith, she can’t help but think of the concept of beauty from ashes. This is certainly one of those experiences.

She hopes that if there are any others out there reading this that have been violated and who haven’t healed yet, they will take hope from this. She hopes too that those who have body image issues and who hide their bodies in shame will also take hope from this. This girl spent many years deeply damaged but is now feeling a strange sort of freedom and she is happy.

Incidentally she’s also trying to resist sending dirty text messages until the snow goes away and she can actually see this particular boy again. Sometimes being snowed in sucks, really really sucks.

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