That’s pretty fucked up.
At first I just wanted to forget the whole thing. Plus, I knew reporting them would make me more of an outcast. It happened on Saturday, and by Monday EVERYBODY knew. T & R had been bragging about popping my “high-classed cherry”. My mom found out, from the cashier at the convenience market down the street. It was a hangout for some of the local police, because the owner was a retired cop. So I went there and told a cop I recognised from when he had given my mom a ride home in the rain.
The next day my mom’s friend said she saw the cops talking to T & R. But they were at school the following day. Oh, and my BF was arrested for violating his parole. He was trying to help me by admitting that he slashed the tires.
Mr. Blue Sky I’m so sorry for killing your thread, and I hate to hijack it further, but the only other alternative is to start a pit thread. I’m not pissed enough for the pit, just mildly amused.
There seems to be doubt among some who choose to be “anonymous”, about the truth of my story. Aparantly, they seem to think, if it were true, I wouldn’t be talking about it.
I stopped thinking of it as a traumatic event in my life, 20 years ago!
And this may be difficult for some of our younger members to grasp, but 24 years ago, it was not unusual for someone to still be a virgin at the age of 17.
And yes, maybe I did get what I deserved for not leaving with my bf. But I thought he would be right back. And there was an adult in the next room. Yes, it was stupid, but I had lived a very sheltered life before that. I thought it was “cool” that my bf had been in jail for godsakes! What does that tell you about my state of mind?
My sympathies to you. It seems you have recovered quite well. If not, I hope you do.
Also, I want to back up this point you make. *Ten * years ago, I was a virgin at age 19. Some people just have a different sense of when they want to do what.
Well, to back the both of you up, 11 years ago I was a virgin and I was 30.
While I must admit, I didn’t expect a story like yours, don’t worry about the hijack. I intended this thread to be therapeutic. I know I felt better and apparently so do a few other Dopers.
I’m sorry you had to go through what you did, but you sure as hell didn’t deserve any of what happened to you.
I don’t believe it was a hijak so much as some perspective. There are few amongst us who can actually tell a tale about heartbreak and social anxiety after yours, since yours was so unabashingly real and emotional. To me, it would feel kind of asshole-ish.
There are no stories for me to offer, though. Best I can add is I am still Mr. V1 and am currently 17.
Now I just feel foolish for posting.
Someone I know had a similar experience to hillbilly queen’s, but she will never admit to who did it. I don’t know why, and it’s not a subject that comes up- ever.
You definitely have my sympathy. I cannot find words that seem to fit here, I’m not good at comforting people.
Is it ok to go back to the original topic?? If so, read the following, if not, carry on…
I had a major crush on my brother’s best friend, he (brother’s best friend) and my best friend were spending the night at our house. It was Valentine’s weekend (1969). Brother’s best friend gave me a card and chocolates and we kissed like mad till it was my bed time (first time for me 
). Got up in the morning to find my best friend and brother’s best friend on the living room couch together. 
Never talked to my best friend again (we had been best friends from 1st grade thru high school) and she knew about my feelings towards him and his overtures to me. He eventually dumped her and came back to me. I let him think I was into him then dumped him visciously Revenge is sweet. Took me a long time to trust anyone again.
As a follow up to my OP:
I fell in and out of love with K throughout the 80’s. We remained close friends during that time. Then, one day, for reasons I can’t explain, those feelings stopped.
She moved out of town last year with her husband and two kids. I’ve received one email since then.
Time does heal some wounds, it seems.
By the above, do you mean that people have not posted about or commented on your experience?
I’ve started three times to respond, but couldn’t seem to get it right. Here goes:
I don’t doubt the truth of your story. I have no reason to. I grew up in a tough neighborhood myself, and the details of your story ring true and plausable. But your experience is difficult to respond to in this cyber-medium we’re using for communication.
Typing “I wish that hadn’t happened to you” on a keyboard seems hollow and totally inadequate.
If we were talking face-to-face, I could touch your hand, look in your eyes, say I’m sorry that happened to you, and I’d be sure that you understood my sincerety and depth of feeling…
Still, typing it is the best I can do under the circumstances, so, …I’m sorry that happened to you.
Now close your eyes, imagine that you can feel me lightly touching the back of your hand, and imagine that you can hear my voice, soft and low. Hope that makes you feel better! 
Absolutly not! I don’t want or expect any comments. It was just my contribution to the thread.
I thought by putting the word “anonymous” in quotes, people would realize I was refering to the anonymous snark community. I’m glad not everyone here is familiar with such a place.
Your comment was very sweet, and I thank you for it. But seriously, it was such a long time ago, I hadn’t thought about it in years until I read the title to this thread.
:eek: :eek: :eek:
Never been there, ain’t goin’ there! It didn’t occur to me that that was the “anonymous” you were referring to.
Glad your bad experience doesn’t still trouble you. Have a nice evening.
I put myself into several dangerous situations as a teenager, but was never quite as unlucky as hillbilly queen. As for “social discomfort” type situations, the one that sprang to mind when I saw the thread title was the slumber party I went to in ninth grade with about six other girls. We were all sitting around this girl’s bedroom and calling up all the cute boys from school. Somehow, during the few minutes that I was out using the bathroom, one of the girls found my training bra in my overnight bag and told the boy on the phone, who happened to be the boy I had a crush on! I spent the rest of that night crying on the living room couch while the other girls whooped it up in the bedroom…
I grew up in Buffalo, but I’m going to school in New York. In November, I started dating a classmate of mine who lives in Eastern Pennsylvania, and she invited me and two of the other law school peeps to her annual New Year’s party, featuring people from her high school and college in a lakehouse with copious amounts of alcohol.
Since I’m living in New York, I don’t own a car, and I was going home to see my parents for Christmas. No big deal - I’ll just grab a greyhound. It’s only a seven-hour ride.
I got there on December 30th, and it was pretty clear something wasn’t right. She never pounced on me like she usually did, and we spent most of the time reading.
At the party, as soon as people from college showed up, I no longer existed. I spent most of the night playing pool with one of the law school girls or sitting in on the trivia game in the next room. I’d occasionally go up to the girl I was dating and, say, stand next to her, or put my arm around her, or rub her neck… she just didn’t acknowledge my presence at all. At that point, I got irritated enough that I started shouting answers to trivia questions while calling my shots in the next room.
Fast forward to 11:30. Poor timing on my part, but I’d been keeping from drinking all night because I sensed things were going badly, and I saw my very drunk girlfriend bragging about how she’d stayed sober until the ball drop because she wanted to experience it. She walked by me, and I grabbed her, smooched her and asked if she was having a good time. Great, she said. Pause. She wasn’t going to ask me. I said, “Well, me, not so much…” “What?” “Well, I haven’t seen much of you, and…” Tears.
My friend took me upstairs, and then sent my girlfriend up. There was a long, half-drunk (she was, I wasn’t) discussion about how she just wasn’t ready for the kind of relationship I thought we were in, and I was screamed at for taking my phone out to make sure she didn’t miss the ball drop.
Because I didn’t have my car, I slept in her house until I left on the morning of December 2nd.
Her parents were very, very angry with her for breaking up with me.
It was rather uncomfortable.
Wow, you slept there for 11 months? I’ll bet that WAS uncomfortable!!
Sorry, couldn’t resist.
Dung Beetle just had to go and mention slumber parties.
I was invited to a birthday/slumber party in Junior High. It was during the summer, and my mom took the info over the phone while I was at day camp. She forgot a very important detail when relaying the message to me. The “slumber” part. :rolleyes: So, I arrived sans pj’s and sleeping bag. The girl having the party was several sizes larger than me, so I couldn’t wear her pjs. I wore one of her mom’s gowns instead. I was also given the use of the older brother’s sleeping bag. Everybody else had pretty, girly sleeping bags, mine was camouflage.
I was very shy at that time, and so was my bladder. I waited until I thought everyone was asleep, before I got up to pee. On my way back, I stepped on someone and woke them up. The next morning, it was discovered that some of the cupcakes, the mom had made for the family party, had been eaten. Guess who got blamed! A witness had seen me lurking around in the middle of the night. The mom lectured me about taking her kindness and throwing it back in her face. I was too stunned to defend myself. My mom was called to come and pick me up.
The pissed off hillbilly mom arrives:
My mom was NOT shy, and didn’t have a problem letting people know exactly what she thought about them. She knew there was no way I could’ve eaten 6 cupcakes, nor would I have done such a thing. The other girls probably learned a few new words that day too.
This is lame compared to yall, and I was in the 4th Grade, but it seriously wounded me permanently.
My Mom made me go to the uppitty rich kids church, because she wanted us to fit in with them so badly. I hated it because most of those spoiled little Christains were so mean to me and made fun of me for not having money.
So Mom forced me to attend the Costume Carnival (cant associate it with Satanic Halloween) but we had no money for a fancy costume. So she put me in cut up jeans with a big brown AWFUL sweater that she wore alot, tied many bandanas to me and made a little lunch bag with one bandana on a stick.
I was a Hobo.
I cried anticipating the warm reception this was gonna get me, I did not even know what a Hobo was and trying to explain it to the rich kids just made cringe to think about…But she dropped me off and I sadly walked in to find all the rich girls (including the worst one, the preacher’s daughter) had these amazingly beautiful matching ballerina outfits.
They all teased me and asked why I did not dress up in costume?
I cried and hid in the kitchen alone till it was time to go home.
What? People got to go to parties when they were teenagers?
/selfpityingit’sallaboutmemode