I feel like most people’s stories of experimentation seem to have happened at earlier times in their lives, but I’m not really like anyone else, and my experience was more than the ordinary 420 situation.
It was a Friday and one of the last few days of my first year of college. Things were so exciting. I was acting, writing, doing everything I wanted to. I felt like things couldn’t get any better. I was even attracting the attention of a boy who I thought to be pretty darn special. I was charmed by his wit, and wowed by his acting resume. It’s amazing how naïve we allow ourselves to be.
That night I had planned an end of year dinner with my classmates. My best friend picked me up after my rehearsal and we walked along the campus together. It was a beautiful campus with a dark past that I somehow always felt connected to. It was a mental hospital turned college. It went from housing the dark and twisted minds to shaping the future minds of tomorrow.
I got a text from that guy telling me to meet him and for a ride down to the lake before my dinner. We’d have to be quick, he said, because he had to head up north.
Innocently, I thought he was going to take me for a romantic walk on the beach. I was wrong. I got into his truck, but something didn’t really feel right. He said he put the seats down and brought a blanket for us, and couldn’t wait to kiss me. We parked in a busy parking lot. I could see a guy walking his wiener dog toward the beach from the window.
When we parked, he crawled in the back. I followed and he started kissing me. He was bad at it, but I liked him so I kept going. He started taking my shirt and bra off. I started panicking. I knew where it was going and I didn’t want it. Not Like this. Not when I could clearly watch a family unload their strollers from a minivan. He was on top of me and he was fully erect and I said, “I can’t.”
“I’m on my period,” I claimed, trying to grab bra and top, he grabbed them first. My cellphone started ringing. It was my Mom. He grabbed my phone too. His dick was exposed. He told me to suck it. He told me he’d give my stuff back once I did that. I considered it, but I had never given a blow job before, and I really didn’t want to.
“I don’t want to, I really just wanna go.” It was my way of attempting to free us both from becoming another college campus statistic. Sadly, instead he aggressively grabbed me by the hair and started forcing my head toward his crotch. I wanted to cry, but I was in denial. This wasn’t sexual assault, I told myself. If it was, then it was my fault. I asked for it. I just gave in. I didn’t want to be a victim. My logic in that moment was really fucked up. How could this person who 30 minutes ago was lighting up my life, be this kind of person? How could I be so wrong?
I was late for my dinner. I thought he was going to at least drive me to my dinner, Instead. He dumped me off at a bus stop.
I called my best friend and told her everything. Neither of us knew what to do. Or make of it. So we just went to dinner as planned. I told her I felt like it was my fault and that we could tell no one. Of course it wasn’t my fault, but I didn’t know that then.
Remembering that Sex and the City Episode where Carrie smoked a joint, I said, “Let’s make this the day I smoke weed!” As it was one of the last days of school, there was a beach bonfire after dinner. We all met up with our classmates at the beach include this one guy. Let’s call him Frank. He was a classmate who also dealt “the good stuff”. I wouldn’t know how to roll a joint, so luckily Frank had this pretty blue pipe. He got it started and asked why I was smoking. He had never seen me do it before.
I wanted to tell him, but he could see he was prying. He told me he just lost his virginity to a guy. The guy finished and called him a fag, saying he wasn’t even gay. He handed me the pipe and I took a hit. I coughed so much. My mouth was dry, but I was calm.
I watched the guys from the film program dance around the fire like crazy people. More friends showed. They were so excited to finally get high with me. We hugged out our year, and experiences. I was so grateful that that was the way that day ended and that it would forever be the first time I smoked weed.
As for the dink from the beginning of the story, well he’s out there somewhere. It was one of the last times I ever saw him. He tried to contact me multiple times after, but I just couldn’t. He set me up for shame and ridicule by bragging to his friends about what he “thinks” happened. Villians don’t always know they’re villains, do they?
I guess that campus was still housing at least one twisted mind.
This story was submitted anonymously.