lessons in love and sex anonymous anne

Lessons inLOVE and SEX

ART by ALYSA PALAZZO WORDS by ANONYMOUS ANNE

CONTENT WARNING: SEXUAL ASSAULT

It begins with a set of large, hazel eyes.

The first boy I ever had sex with brought me over to his dorm in residence. Third floor, penthouse. Suite style. A palace compared to my dingy room across campus. We were meant to be practicing for the debate tournament next week. My young, naive heart, falling for his pair of liquid brown irises, had suggested that I help him figure out his opening speeches. By the time we had chosen our practice topic, he had made his way from a single wooden chair to my two-seater couch. By the time he had half-heartedly run through his first attempt at a case, his shoulder was pressed against mine. I gave up on the whole endeavor when he placed his hand on my thigh.

How exciting. A month and a series of snapchats later, he is standing in my dorm room in jeans and a T-shirt. How wonderful to finally kiss a boy. How wonderful to finally lose myself to someone. How wonderful, that he, golden-skinned Adonis, would have interest in touching me. It had to all happen in the same night. I was afraid he would lose interest otherwise.

The kiss was rough - full of unshaved stubble and my own inexperienced teeth. He was in a rush to get clothing off. I had thought there would be more foreplay. Perhaps a playlist of rock music in the background. But golden-skinned adonis boy was inside me within the span of twenty minutes. My memory of that moment is a flashbulb of recollection. I remember the blinding white of the overhead fluorescent lights - my hand against the cold marble of the windowsill, my body tense with every thrust. Another minute and he will be done.

Another minute and the pain will be over. Another minute and I will have completed the act of having sex. Eventually, I gave up and told him to stop - it hurt too much. He paused, withdrew, and sat naked on my single bed. He joked about blue balls and leaving people hanging. He asked me to blow him. Then, hearing my response of declination, the first boy I ever had sex with pulled back on his jeans and disappeared out the door of my dorm room. That night, I was giddy with excitement. Nevermind the pain - golden-skinned Adonis boy had been mine to touch. I had kissed him, and had entered the magical realm of people who have had sex. There were a few more times I will not speak about in detail. A couple blowjobs - his hand maintaining a slight pressure on my head. A couple more sad attempts at fucking. Sex was entirely new to me, and I was terribly excited by it. I wanted to be good at it, and to be desired by him. So in all those times, I remained silent through my own pain and discomfort. Eventually, however, golden-skinned Adonis boy lost interest in me.

And so it is that, two years and eleven months later, I find myself inking these words into the ivory pages of a writing journal. For much of this time, I have affirmed to myself that I was not sexually abused - that I had agency over myself, and the ability to stop him with a single word. But there is no consent in fucking a frozen body. And so I have come to realize that he took advantage of me. That he exploited my attraction to him and my lack of experience for his own sexual pleasure - without any consideration for my emotional or physical well-being. The first time you have sex informs the way you continue on to love. To this day, no matter how tender the hand, I brace myself for pain. My partner cannot touch my head during oral sex - not even to run their hands through my hair. He damaged my ability to express affection, and I am still fighting to get it back. My weapon of choice has been a simple one: self-respect. The nurturing of a small voice inside that says: “I deserve better”.

One day, I was struck with the realization that I could no longer remember his last name. Somehow, the first boy I ever had sex with had been reduced to four letters and a series of flashbulb memories.

But there is still work to be done.

I will continue learning to love myself. I will strip away every leaf from this tree of my life and bloom anew. I will cut him down until he is three letters, then two, then one, then nothing. x