10.1.2012

the first time i had sex,

we fucked. rather,

he fucked me,

cramped in the back seat

of his car.

it was dark out, probably

early morning.

the police had come round once already

telling us to stay inside,

but everyone else had gone

to sleep hours before.

it was cold out,

so i wore my jacket

all the way through.

he didn't even pull down his pants,

just took it out and went at it.

when he came,

i didn't even notice

until he was getting out of the car.

he didn't even ask if i'd come.

the next day,

i walked around Monterey

worrying.

then, i knew for sure i was pregnant.

i had no way to get plan b,

and i suddenly couldn't remember

if we'd used a condom.

if we had, i knew it'd torn.

i binged on candy from a Walgreen's.

"a treat," i told myself,

"before i'm pregnant."

my period came two weeks late,

but it came,

and i couldn't decide if i was

relieved or

disappointed.

we don't talk anymore,

but we made out once after,

in a church

behind a curtain.

our whole relationship

(if you could call it that)

was in churches.

every time, i felt dirty, used.

worthless.

i'm not sure if i consented

or not,

but i'm not sure it matters;

it served its purpose.

i wasn't attracted to him at all,

but he held me while we slept,

and never physically hurt me.

i ignored his grossness,

his bad habits,

how we had nothing in common.

i forcused on the fact that, then,

i couldn't be too horrible.

he wanted me, didn't he?

i ignored how he didn't even know

who i am.

all i wanted to know,

was that i wasn't ace after all.

i got turned on,

and the repelling feeling didn't matter.

i felt like someone tolerated me.

it hurt.

i wasn't prepared for that.

it was a three night stand,

spread out over a season,

but i wanted more.

now, i have trouble thinking of it.

i'm unsure how i feel.

if i wanted it.

it makes for an interesting story,

told in

hinted-at half-truths,

but i usually don't tell.

i'm not ashamed of it,

that i'm aware of,

but i can't be proud of something

that originated during a church service

in a room packed wall to wall

with two or three layers of people.

most of them were asleep,

but he fingered me while

the girl next to me cuddled closer,

hopefully unaware.

i like her.

i'm ashamed of that day,

like i am of most.

i don't think i ever came with him,

but i didn't much expect to.

at first, i pretended

to be asleep

so i wouldn't have to say no.

i said yes because i liked being

close to someone.

not even in a sexual way.

i don't like sex.

it's not fun, not happy.

sex is dull, dark,

him thrusting into me.

i didn't feel it.

there was no pleasure.

i was used to it.

someday i want to try sex

with someone i fancy.

i think i might like it.