It was stolen from me

Denise Wright

This is the first column in a short series.

Like many incoming college freshmen, I showed up to college with bright eyes and an open mind. I was excited to take classes that actually appealed to me. I was excited to not have to report to my mom every time I wanted to go to the movies. But more than anything, I was excited to meet new people. I spent my first few weeks going to frat parties and planned campus events, and I met a decent amount of new friends.

Some of the excitement wore off as school progressed, but I was still all about meeting new people. So I thought nothing of it when Josh (name was changed) added me on Facebook. Josh was also a freshman at Kent State, and he happened to live on the same dorm floor as me.

One night in mid-October, Josh and I made plans to meet up in my room for a movie night. We talked casually as we watched “Anchorman,” and it was pretty chill. Before the movie even finished we began kissing. Josh was cute, and I didn’t mind a good make-out session. That was all I had in mind, though. I had already established in our conversation earlier that I was a virgin and planned on staying that way for a while.

So I was pretty surprised when Josh started fumbling with the button on my jeans. “I don’t want you to do that,” I said. I already knew I didn’t want things to move beyond kissing, so although I was enjoying that at the time, I wanted my intentions to be clear. Josh got the hint and loosened his grip on my jeans. Yet, as we continued to kiss, I felt his hands tugging at my jeans again. “No, I really just want to kiss. Nothing else,” I remember saying.

Admittedly, the rest of the details are fuzzy in my mind. It’s been three years, and I’ve repressed the situation as much as possible. But I’m sure he said something to the effect of, “You’ll like it. Just go with it,” as he forced himself on me.

But I didn’t like it. And I don’t understand how my repeatedly saying “no” and crying was not an indication that I didn’t like it. I always thought I would fight my ass off in such a situation. I would scream and bite and claw my way out. But none of these reactions took place. My body was frozen, and my mind raced as I realized I didn’t stand a chance. Josh was more than a foot taller than me, and, as an athlete, he was pure muscle and easily double my weight. I couldn’t even convince myself to put up a fight.

“So we’re good?” I remember him asking as he put his clothes back on. I’m sure I wiped the tears from my face and nodded meekly as a reply. But inside I was screaming, “No, we are not good. You just stole my virginity from me.” How could we be good?

Shamefully, I put my clothes back on and let him out of my room. I burst into tears as soon as I closed the door.

Denise Wright is a senior journalism major and guest columnist for the Daily Kent Stater.