When I was 16 years old, I got into a relationship with a man who was 20. It was a long-term relationship that lasted about a year. It was difficult and toxic on both ends; I don’t blame him for the emotional ab*se we both inflicted on each other, which I now understand and accept.
However, we began a sxual relationship very quickly—faster than I felt ready for. I expressed this to him, and he said he was happy with my communication, yet that same evening, he pushed things further. He escalated our conversations to a sxual context within the first week, and by the second or third week, we had interc*urse. It was my first time, though I didn't tell him that. I don't remember it being painful—it was even pleasurable—but I do remember that immediately afterward, he distanced himself and barely spoke to me for most of the night.
I imagine it wasn't easy for him, either. Throughout our relationship, he seemed concerned and ashamed of the fact that I was so young, even though we were both in university. Contextually, it felt "appropriate" at the time, so he proceeded with the relationship. I did too, seeing no issues then. Given my complex and traumatic childhood, the idea of being "too young" and therefore "inadequate" was the most painful thought I could have, so I did everything in my power to seem mature and older—which, in itself, was the biggest sign of my immaturity.
I don't think I was rped, if by that term we mean me saying "no" and the action not stopping. I believe he would have stopped. The thing is, I never said "no" again. After that first time—when I expressed discomfort and he ignored it—I just stopped trying to set boundaries. Sx quickly became a massive part of our relationship. It feels now like it was the only time I could get him to genuinely engage with me, look at me, or see me. It was our only form of intimacy.
In that relationship, I developed a view of s*x as a tool, a duty, and a performance—an action to be completed to be reassured of my attractiveness, my desirability, and the fact that I was liked. I performed just to feel like he wanted me there. I imagine if I had been older, I would have had the education and understanding to handle things differently, but instead, I had to let these circumstances teach me.
It has stayed with me to this day. Truthfully, these feelings returned about a month ago while I was watching a documentary on Epst*in. I heard a description of a situation similar to mine and I started shaking; I spent the next 40 minutes in a panic attack as memories I hadn't recalled in years came rushing back. For a while, I couldn’t touch myself at all—even just touching my own shoulders made me feel stained and disgusting.
I know that if I had been older and able to stand my ground, this wouldn't have happened. But the problem is, I wasn’t, and I didn’t. I didn't realize something was wrong until long after the relationship ended. I am left in this weird place of not feeling quite "absed" or "assulted," but at the same time, recognizing I was clearly a child who didn't know better.
I still struggle to enjoy s*xual pleasure and I haven't had a partner since. I see memories rushing back often, and even seeing his face now causes me anxiety. It’s not just because of what he did, but because my brain has taken everything I dislike about myself and put it under his face. I hate the way my body feels when I remember. I feel uncomfortable and lost in this web, trying to understand what this means for me now and how to move forward.
The most difficult part is that I am so lost in this moral gray area that my brain doesn't allow me to put it to rest. I don't know who was wrong, and I don't know who to blame—but most importantly, I don't know how to stop blaming myself. I am still young, and even though I am not 16 anymore, I can't help but be scared that I will lead myself into the same situation again. That thought, above all else, makes me terrified of my future.