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When I was in 11th grade, and prior to that grade, I suffered from depression. The “no-one loves me, I just want to die” type. One of my friends happened to be really angry at this one guy so I anonymously texted him a very mean and rude message. This one guy found out about it and he started texting me. I wasn’t open to talking to people, but with talking to him for about two weeks, I started to be less wary and actually enjoyed talking to him. We started dating. He was fun to hang out with at the start of our relationship. I just needed someone to like me, I think. I just needed to know that I could be loved. He was my first kiss. Just saying, he wasn’t that great of a kisser. He was like kissing a fish still in water. Anyway, I realized that after a 4 or 5 months, I didn’t really like him that much. But then he invited me on vacation with his family, so obviously I thought I liked him enough to go on vacation with him. Then I realized that after vacation that I couldn’t keep dating him, but then for my birthday he got me a gorgeous ring, and I thought, “I’m obligated to stay with him now, I like him enough to do this.” I thought I loved him, but I was just blinding myself.

The inside scoop: After a couple months of dating, I would become angry for no reason. I would playfully punch him, and since he is really skinny and a wimp, I guess it would hurt him.

I would also start randomly crying for no reason.

He was the first guy I was ever intimate with. The thing is, he would never be intimate with me, for the most part. I did the normal stuff teenagers did; you know the whole playing with stuff thing. He barely touched me like I touched him because he thought that that part of me was kind of nasty. He thought touching my chest was enough.

This is my point of view after everything happened. He would compare me to his ex, a very skinny, very blonde, and very not me girl. He told me I should lose weight. He didn’t want me to work because it would take me away from him. Every Saturday, we had to be together. EVERY one. Every time we were together I had to do stuff to him. And if I said I didn’t want to, he would get mad and make that stupid face so I would give in and never get anything in return. I was angry and felt hurt all the time, but I never knew this, I was blinded by what I thought was love. If he would ask me to hang out during the week, I would find an excuse because Saturday and everyday at school was enough for me. He took me away from my friends, I closed myself to everyone, even myself.

My semi but not really first time. This hurts to even type it. It was in the woods. Yes, it hurt. Everything about it hurt, mentally, emotionally, physically. He is a boney guy. He didn’t do any foreplay, he just dove in. It hurt. His hips hurt me because of how boney he is. He stopped before he was done because he didn’t want me to get pregnant. I felt like I was raped. But then he made me finish him off. He ejaculated on my stomach and it was disgusting. And then he thought some got by my “special place” and he was like, “You better not get pregnant!” I cleaned my stomach off in a nearby creek. I was in tears but wiped them away before going back to him. We talked on the way back to his house and he was like “If you get pregnant, you are having an abortion.” I said, “no, I don’t believe in abortion.” And then we argued. I don’t know why I stayed with him for 10 more months after that. We never “had sex” again. It was always me doing stuff to him. Every weekend. I don’t even count that as my first time. It barely counts for a half a time.

I didn’t trust him completely. I think I was scared of him. I don’t like when people get mad at me and I think that’s why I kept it up. The longer we dated, the more and more aggressive and pyscho I became. My friends could see that something was wrong with me, but later on they told me that they were afraid to say anything to me because I would always defend him. Why would I do that? What was so wrong with me? I will never understand how I dated him for that 1 year and 3 months. Never. I was never happy as I should have been in a relationship. I was mentally and emotionally abused. And I know I hurt him with my anger.

Now when I see him, I sometimes get sick. How could I have been so stupid? How could I hurt myself like that? It was my first real relationship and I was so blind. I had a dream a couple nights ago that scared me. He was in it and he came to my house and was trying to make me give him a blow job. I said no and he got angry, I felt scared and woke up.

I found out who my true friends are because of this. They welcomed me back from my “zombie”-like state with open arms. I’m so happy I had their support, or I would have never made it. Message me if you have any questions about this story, if any of you took the time to read it.