So this is my first real attempt to talk openly about my past.
It all started when I was 11 or 12. My family owns a business, and a young man worked for us; I will call him "P". He was probably 15/16 when this all started happening.
For years, he would touch me (friendly, but.... with meaning), hug me, tell me he loved me, that I was his favorite and he would marry me. As a young girl, I think it's fairly fitting to say I thought I loved him. This type of.... flirting(?) and interactions continued for at least a year... probably closer to two.
One night, he was staying the night at my mom's house. I was most likely 14 or 15, and he was around 17 (I have done a good job of blocking this from my memory, so the actual dates/ages are lost...).
I was laying on the couch, and he came over and laid next to me. He started touching me, kissing me, and fondling me. I was terrified (he told me he liked how I was shivering/shaking), but excited. It was my first ever sexual experience other than touching myself. I don't remember anything other than him touching my breasts and kissing me. Afterwards I wrote about it in my diary and was over the moon.
Things kinda settled down (again, this memory block prevents me from really seeing what happened), and I ended up dating a different boy. We had sexual encounters (no sexual intercourse, but almost everything else). This boy's father passed away after battling cancer, and we all attended the funeral. After the services, P came to stay the night at my mom's house. P, myself, and my girlfriend were sleeping in sleeping bags in the living room. My girlfriend fell asleep, and all I remember is P suddenly next to me. He began kissing me and touching me. Then we were having sex. I didn't really know how that happened, and it was over really quickly. Afterwards, I went upstairs and threw up, and cried myself to sleep because I was disgusting.
Even writing this... I have never shared that I cheated on this poor boy... on the eve of his dad's funeral.... I still feel horribly ashamed and angry at myself. I feel disgusting..
Well.... later that year (or the next year... I can't remember) this boy and I broke up. Again, the timeframes are missing... but that following summer, P and I began a non-relationship.
By non-relationship, I mean that he would ignore me during the day, but at night he would come to me for sex. He stopped telling me he loved me, he stopped flirting with me in public... but he would hit on ANYONE else in front of me. My step-sister, my friends, customers, other employees.... any female - he was all over it.
We would use my mom's house, her store, and his house. This non-relationship went on for between 2.5 and 3 years. There was no talking, no laughing or playing around or going on dates... we just had sex. I remember being hurt over and over and over again when he would openly flirt, comment on, or check out other girls (I'm bigger, so this also really dampened my self esteem when he would check out girls in bikinis when I wasn't comfortable in one...) and then use me for sex later.
There was one instance where he asked me to come over because he had rented a porno. I was game, and came over. He started the movie, climbed on top of me, and turned his whole head around so he could watch the women on the tape rather than look at me. I don't know how close to the end of this "relationship" that incident was.... but it was eye-opening for me; the fact that I meant NOTHING to him. Other than a willing hole. I felt disgusting and dirty and embarrassed.
Again, I don't even remember how we "broke things off", or when exactly. But I cut him out of my life. I didn't see him, talk to him, hear about him, nothing. I moved on - or so I thought.
Now, in 2015, my mom hired him again.
I am feeling very overwhelmed by all these feelings that come along with this new development.
1) I'm hurt because my mom is helping him by giving him a job
- He deserves nothing from my family
- this means my mom talks about P a lot.... which is upsetting
2) Why do I still care/why am I still effected by this?
3) I am ashamed to even hint that it was sexual assault.
-we had a sexual encounter before to which we both consented (I guess?)
-the first time we had sex I was cheating.... I don't know why, but I feel like that negates everything.
-we had an ongoing thing for years.....
4) I'm happily married to a fantastic, caring, supportive man.
-I am so ashamed that my husband has to hear about this
-He doesn't deserve to have to listen to me figure out all this
-I'm married.... so shouldn't I move on?
5) There are more... but I can't even decipher what is what.
I finally came clean to my sister (about 2 years ago), and she has always maintained that it was a form of assault (I was not of an age to consent, and he used me).... she has helped me realize that keeping it inside/secret wasn't good.
Last month, I was eating dinner with my mom and she was going on and on about P. I finally told her; "I really don't want to hear anything about P." - which led to a short conversation with my mom about why I had said that.
(I had told her in my HS years -vaguely- about what happened, and her immediate response was; "Well what, did he rape you?!!" - needless to say, I didn't bring it up to her again.)
So during this (2015) conversation with my mom, she again immediately asked if I was saying he raped me. Again, I shut down the conversation (although I did try to explain a little more about what happened).
I called my sister afterwards, and she took it upon herself to communicate to my mom what happened - so that I wouldn't have to deal with her questions/tones/etc. My sister did have this conversation, and while I do feel my mom has a better understanding of what happened... the fact remains that he is working for her.
I saw him last Saturday. He saw me and exclaimed, "Kimmy!!!!" all excited.... I politely said "Hey" and scurried into the house.
I guess that's it. I don't even know.
I am really struggling with accepting that this was a form of sexual assault. Typing that makes me feel like I'm lying. Was I just a sl*t?
All these experiences definitely contributed to me becoming hyper-sexually active. I would put myself in dangerous situations (met a guy at a coffee shop, go outside and lay in the woods to get busy), and offer my body to men who didn't deserve it, and wouldn't respect me.
My husband and I had sex the first time we met. I initiated it. I offered.
I feel so ashamed and disgusted.... was it assault? Was it just "boys will be boys", and "you made a bad choice too"?
I don't know.