I expected that when I lost my virginity, it would be a magical experience. That finally I met someone that cares so about me, and I him, that we consummate our affection. I had fantasies about what that night would be like, what would happen, who he was.
What happened cannot even be considered a bastardized version of that. When I moved to college, I befriended a guy that I had known through a mutual friend back home. We hit it off pretty well, as we were both gay. He had a boyfriend back home, so I assumed that I wouldn't have to deal with what was to come. We were pretty good friends for a week or two. However, I gre reluctant to be alone with him. He had told me that during the summer, at our mutual friend's party, that afterwards he had a bit of a crush on me. I shrugged it off, saying that I wasn't interested in him like that. He backed off, but a few hours later he asked me if it was weird that he wished that I liked him. He said he didn't really care since he had his boyfriend, but it made me feel uncomfortable. I told him again, that I am not interested in him that way.
Two weeks after that, we were at the same party with a larger group of friends. I had originally intended to stay the night at the place we were, but drama went down when some guy danced with another girl, then acted like an ass. Now the rest of us were just hanging out and drinking. I drank far more than my small body should handle and ended up very drunk. As things became more and more uncomfortable, we all decided to go back to our rooms. He decided to help me back to mine because we lived in the same building. At this point I started to sober up. I didn't need or want his help in going back to my room. But then we all decided to have another couple beers before turning in. I thought he had left which was why I stayed to drink more. But I ended up drunk again, this time blacked out.
I woke up the next morning with a throbbing headache, the taste of vomit in my mouth, and blood coming out of my rectum. I knew something bad had happened to me. I gathered my things and shuffled to the shower. I had to use the handicapped shower, with the bench to sit on, as standing was a painful endeavor. I started to piece together the pieces of what happened the night before.
Later on, I ran into him. He told me that he had something that I needed to know. "We had sex last night". This confirmed my suspicion. "I feel really bad because it was your first time, but you should probably be looser in the future. It'll help" And with that he had just made a joke about my rape. He knew I was not attracted to him. He knew I would never had sex with him sober. I felt like shit.
I told one friend who goes to a different school. Then I enrolled in counseling here, when things really came to the surface. I hate what I've become. Sometimes he'll apologize to me about what happened and why he was wrong to do it, and that he's so upset about how it changed me. But he only says any of this while drunk or high. And even then, he doesn't refer to it as rape, or even attempt to empathize how I may feel.
I'm trying to cut him out of my circle of friends. I need to stay far away from him for as long as I can. Even if that means leaving my group entirely. I can't stand him. Now I'm afraid that I'm too damaged to ever be loved by anyone. I'm afraid that I'm going to end up by myself for the rest of my life, because no one will understand what I went through and what I am still going through.