When I was seventeen, I was forced into sex. I did not know what had happened to me. I was at a loss, my body had been stolen, so I let people take it. Men on the internet, and skype calls to a guy who got me through it.
When I was eighteen, I tried to have sex again for the first time since. I felt sick so he kicked me out and I went home a state. I became afraid of people. Men especially. I kissed far too many and never let it get further. I would talk and be social, but never let people in.
When I was nineteen, I dated someone who I am fairly sure at this point is/was gay. It was perfect for me. I did not want to be desired. I wanted someone to listen and after he had listened, when I realised he did not want me, I became unhappy. So I turned to drugs for the first time in my life and hooked up with dealers but still realised I could not have sex. They treated me badly. Some were fine, but it never ended well.
At twenty, I had realised the shock horror of my life and the endless mess. I had fallen for someone I had just seen and knew nothing about. There was something so special about him and he introduced me to the gospel. I had been a christian or at least believed in a God my entire life. I had a good education of christianity and it was easy for me to get stuck in, to fall into a belief of no sex before marriage, because then I figured I could finally have what I wanted: trust before expectations piled on. We dated a long time but the past never let go of me and I realised I had to go. It was so incredibly hard because I was settled but I knew the pain. I knew I could not stay. I was not happy. I needed to escape the boys, drugs and nothingness my life had become. It was beyond fraudulent. It was me not dealing with the fact that I could not have sex and me not loving myself. So I left for Sweden. I left everything and I knew what would happen. I knew that I was going to an atheist country, where gender equality was prominent. Unfortunately the first guy that I met was a Canadian sexist and racist because that is me for you. I am attracted to the bad. I want that which does not want me. He was fine though, I told him I would not have sex with him, he made some insult about Muslims or that I was a prude. I did not have to deal…we talked he came to the conclusion I was fucked up. So I dated around and it was nice. I always was very explicit so as not give them expectations. I spent a lot of time working on me. I read an article: what I said to my rapist. I had once again fallen for a guy far away and unavailable just as I had at seventeen. He hurt me because I placed so much importance and reliance on him. He knew my worth, but he could not deal with my past so I never mentioned any of it. I was hurting when I came home. I was confused. I did not know if I was a Christian who did no believe in sex before marriage or a rape victim who had not healed. I was at a loss for what to do and returning to a place where I had been sure just confused me. I assumed I would be fine, but really I did not know. I had not really tried for years and so I thought that maybe I would be able to. I felt safe and overwhelmingly attracted to a person, but there was too much going on, both in my head and around me and I became put off easily. I did not want to try, I did not feel safe now. I realised though, that I was not a Christian or a victim. I realised my strength and I went and dated again. I met someone who made it easy for me to have sex, who never broke my trust. It had been three and a half years. I detached myself from him completely. I was leaving. I could not do more hurt. So I did what I had to and now, here I do not know when the next time I will feel that way is. I realise that was rare, that experience, that connection. I cannot have it with just anyone. I told him very little, but he was understanding and good to me. In a country with so much respect I knew that I could achieve this.