February 4, 2015
Choices…we all have to make them each and every day. I learned at a VERY young age how to make choices…
Most people who know me know that I’m a competitive athlete and that I actually have some decent amount of talent. How does one get so good at so many different sports and at such a young age? Choices. I didn’t grow up with electronics and cartoons were only available Saturday mornings and only on a few channels. Cable? What’s that? 400 channels? Are you kidding me? Um no…deal with it. But I did have a ball. I could do anything with a ball. I can dribble it with my feet and my hands. I can even throw a damn good spiral. I can catch too. And I can kick a 40 yard field goal. Now, I can even ice skate and play hockey. I’m not lighting the world on fire with all my athletic skills but I know one thing. It came down to me making a choice. Here were my options, stay inside and continue to be molested or go outside and play with a ball (you know…that 3 dimensional thing that’s not on my tv or video game–not that that was even an option back then). So I became really good with any sport. Because that choice was far better than the other.
However, one time I really wanted this backpack with the school logo on it. I remember bringing the permission slip home and needing a parents’ signature. My mother wasn’t home because she worked as a dietitian at the local hospital in Kentucky. Not sure where my sister was but my step father said he would sign it if and I quote, “if you lick me.” Let’s pause here for a moment. I had already been on all 4’s while he ejaculated all over me. So what do I do here? I really want the back pack.
CHOICES…there’s that word again. I really want it. It’s no big deal. Just put your mouth on it and the back pack is yours….DONE! CHOICE HAS BEEN MADE.
So, I gave my first blow job a the tender age of 8. My 11 and 12 year old girls don’t even know what a blow job is MUCH LESS HAVE THEY EVER GIVEN ONE! GAG!!! Seriously…GAG.
If you want something in life, you really gotta sink your teeth into it. OK. Bad pun. REALLY BAD PUN.
Writing this is so fucking dismal. Even I am disgusted. No romancing this part of history. Look what I learned at such a young age. Horrific.
Luckily, my girls have never experienced this. And, with any luck, never will. But there are girls and women out there everyday faced with this and it’s numbing to know they have no choice. But they do.
Nobody ever talked about this silent crime. EVER. Now, I make it a point to tell my girls to NEVER let a person touch them. EVER. If a man ever touched my girls or my boys, I would cut off his dick and feed it in pieces to him. I can never really figure out why my mother would let that man sit across the table from me knowing what he did. What the fuck is wrong with her? What is wrong with any woman who lets a man touch her daughter and does nothing? What am I missing? Why am I so angry? To this day. Anger. Hate. Resentment. Shame.
Do you know what it’s like to be somebody’s dirty secret? I do. Tomorrow. I’m off to make good choices today. There have been questionable ones I have made in the past few years since my sexual liberation–my trifecta of sexual liberation–turning 40, child molester dying, and getting a divorce. Oh, the webs we weave….