but also very drunk.ġ0:13 p.m.: I turn around and kiss you. You wrap your arms around me and kiss my cheek. I turn the lights on and draw the blinds. We’re joking around with each other and laughing.ġ0:10 p.m.: I wrestle with my key to open the door to my room. Maybe it will get better?ġ0:04 p.m.: We’re walking, hand-in-hand, back to my dorm room. He started to fumble with my buttons, hands grazing over my racing heart. I was silent for longer this time, before the word “yeah” emerged in a nervous high-pitched squeak. The boy’s hands trailed from my back, circling forward to a place my mother referred to as the “husband-only zone.” And suddenly, I started to feel queasy. But at the same time, my mind foggy and clouded, I didn’t know if I wanted him to stop. I knew under different circumstances I wouldn’t be doing this. We were several minutes into the film when he started rubbing my shoulders and muttered, “Is this okay?” in my ear.Ī strange concoction of guilt and arousal descended over me and I tensed. So when the boy answered the door and invited me in to watch a movie, I agreed, thinking, “What’s the harm in that? Nothing serious will happen with his roommate there.” With the newness of intoxication as an excuse, I could flirt without repercussion, embrace my nascent sexuality without consequence. To this day I look back with regret and shame for being so naïve.Īlcohol was my unlimited get-out-of-jail-free card. I felt guilty for being so naïve and I feared his reaction if I said no.
I didn’t feel ready to have sex with him yet. The moment turned bittersweet because I started to fear that if we went all the way, everything would turn just sexual. Part of me was happy to hear that, to see I could turn a boy into pieces of desire. He said how much and for how long he had wanted me like this, how much he fancied me. We kissed first, then he started pulling off my clothes - quickly, as if he had eight hands. We drank, we smoked, we kissed, then suddenly everybody left. The party was not a party, more like a gathering of five strangers. In advance, this boy told me that perhaps it was better if I slept over because we were going to drink, and it wasn’t safe to venture home in the middle of the night. He invited me over to his cousin’s house for a party. I was going on dates with an older “niño bien” (“good boy”) from my university. “Niñas bien” do have sex, but it is not something you tell people, nor do you brag about it much.
Unless you have a serious boyfriend or a husband. “Niñas bien,” meaning “good girls,” do not have casual sex I never said no, but I never really said yes, either. I still couldn’t process what had happened. In the weeks after, he sent me several text messages asking to meet up. But then the alcohol kicked in more, and all I could do was lie there, trying not to puke. He turned the lights off and got on top of me.Īt first it was enjoyable, fun even. He bought a large bottle of gin.Īs the afternoon went on, we drank, smoked, drank, talked and drank.īy the end of the night, I just wanted to be in a bed - either mine or his. He and his friend picked me up from my dorm and we drove to a gas station for alcohol. I picked the perfect outfit, shaved my legs and put on lipstick.
I was excited I’d never been on a date before. He had already graduated from university and had a job out of town, but was in town staying with a friend.