A History of My Romantic Encounters (V)
I was downtown celebrating my friend’s 19th birthday with a few people last November. It was strange because when I go clubbing, all I want to do is dance. I never really get drunk or high to the point of blacking out. But that night, my friend set up a guest list and bought those massive bottles of concentrated alcohol for the party. I inevitably gave into peer pressure, got ‘schwasted’, and the rest of the night was gone.
I woke up the next morning in bed with a stranger, in an unfamiliar apartment that turned out to be about four blocks from the club we were at the night before. I remember the first feeling I had waking up had nothing to do with the hangover, but I was just completely sore all over my body but especially between my legs. I sat upright on the bed, not knowing what to do for a good five minutes or so. During that time, I can’t remember thinking about anything. I was just quietly there.
He woke up and leaned in close to me. He put his hand on my waist and kissed me on my back. I cringed. I didn’t move away, but I felt disgusted. He obviously noticed because he then asked me if something was wrong. The only answer I could give him was that I was going to be late for work. It wasn’t untrue, but it evidently wasn’t the only thing bothering me. He let me use his bathroom to clean up and offered to drive me to work. I got up to walk to the bathroom. When I looked back, I very vividly remember a small ‘fresh’ bloodstain on the bed and two used condoms on the floor.
Seeing myself that morning in the bathroom mirror was horrifying. I was a complete mess. My hair was greasy and tangled, my make-up from the previous night smudged all over my face. I still don’t understand how a nice, good-looking older guy would even settle for that. The shower felt so incredibly soothing. For just a second, it eased up all the tension in my body. Then reality hit and I started furiously scrubbing every part. When I touched between my legs, it started aching again and I was very sad. It’s hard to describe. It was one of those situations where, no matter how terrible I feel, I desperately try to find a bright side but there isn’t one which upsets me even more. He walked into the bathroom to change the towels or something, and I just froze. No matter how nice he was to me I just couldn’t loosen up. Then specific things from the night before started coming back to me. I remember watching him put on a condom, and I remember trying to look away from his face while he was forcibly thrusting his body into me. More than anything, I just remember how much it hurt.
When I got out of the bathroom, he lent me one of his t-shirts because my top smelled like alcohol (so did my jeans but I don’t think I could have fit into his). Needless to say, I ended up throwing out that shirt at the end of the day. I called one of my coworkers to let her know that I was coming in late and to ask to bring an extra uniform for me.
With traffic, going to the Tim Hortons where I worked at the time from downtown, the car ride lasted almost two hours. It was unbearably awkward at first. In retrospect, I do feel really bad; he was trying so hard to start a conversation, but I was just not responding at all. At some point, we just stalled. None of the cars were moving. He looked over at me, and when I caught his eye I just broke. I was a disaster; I can’t even remember if I ever cried that much before. He was so sweet. He listened to all of my incoherent babble although I doubt he understood much. Eventually, we got to actually talking and getting to know each other. I realised that he was exactly my type, the kind of boy that I would be attracted to.
Work was hectic, but it always used to be on Saturdays. I’m surprised at how well I handled everything, even the unreasonable customers. It usually dies down at around 7 pm. By then, I just try to kill the remaining five hours of my shift by constantly wiping already clean tables until I got to work the drive-thru window. That night, the boy drove up and ordered a muffin and a coffee. Apparently, he had come in and asked if I was working, then was told that I was busy with the drive-thru. After he had paid and gotten his food, he really politely asked me on a date. I declined, and he left me his number just in case I changed my mind.
No matter how sweet he was to me, I couldn’t say yes. A part of me recognized that he was a good person, but then the other part relentlessly spited him for what happened to me. I feel awful about rejecting a nice boy, but if I could go back, I would have still denied him.
It’s funny how I only remember some (painful and somewhat disturbing) bits and feelings of my first time having sex, but I can picture every second of the next day in such detail.
