I have to state this here: if you ever feel anything like I did, do NOT agree to meet at that person’s house, especially if you don’t know them all that well and they’re too ‘heavy’ for you. There is so much that I regret about the situation I’m describing.
That Saturday morning, before leaving for this guy’s house, I had a panic attack. A full-blown panic attack, on my bedroom floor, my entire body pleading with me not to go to his house. But I’d promised him, right? I couldn’t back out now (yes, Emma, you could have, and should have). Once I calmed down, I went downstairs and told my dad how I felt. Seeing the obvious unease on my face, he told me in no uncertain terms that I shouldn’t go – but I was adamant, and I persisted, much to his dismay. Reluctantly, he told me to take his car and drive there instead of getting the bus, so that I could leave on my own terms. He also instructed me to text him a certain word if I felt unsafe and needed a phone call to get me out of there.
My dad is the best human on the entire fucking planet.
Twenty minutes later (yes, I drove after a panic attack – also don’t do that, for crying out loud) I was outside the guy’s house. He came out to meet me, and led me inside. He offered me a drink and showed me around. His parents were out, and it was just the two of us. Finally, he led me into his bedroom – and that’s when it started.
He took the glass of juice out of my hand and began to grab me by the waist, kissing me roughly. This time, I began to pull away – I couldn’t handle my lack of control in this situation. In response, he laughed.
‘What’s up?’ he asked, before grabbing me by the waist again, this time picking me up and lifting me off the floor. If you know anything about me, you know that I am very short, and very light – there was zero way I could wrestle my way out of his grasp as he carried me over to his bed. He pressed me down on to his bed underneath him, kissing me again. His legs were either side of my body, his breath on my neck as he began to grope my chest. I began to feel sick. I was trapped. My heart began to pound as my mind raced over the possibilities: should I just go along with it, so that he didn’t get angry? Should I try and run?
Fortunately, fight-or-flight mode began to kick in. As soon as his lips left mine for a split second, I pushed him to the side as though I was about to straddle him, and rolled off the bed, quickly standing up and grabbing my phone and texting my dad the word he’d told me to send him. The boy simply sat there on his bed, bemused. I should have grabbed my keys and run, but I was afraid of him taking off after me, then me getting lost in his house and him catching up with me, incensed. Adrenalin was coursing through me as I weighed up my options, as the boy stared at me, frowning. Just then, my phone rang.
‘Hello?’
‘Hi, honey, I’m afraid you’ll have to come home, your boss just rang. He’s trying to get hold of you but a delivery’s come in and he needs an extra pair of hands.’
‘Oh, are you sure? Fine, okay. I’ll leave now.’
Hanging up, relieved, I grabbed my keys.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, trying my best to look truthful (I’m a horrible liar because I never do it!). ‘My boss needs my help, I have to rush into work.’
‘They can’t do that,’ the boy replied, standing up. ‘And besides, why would he call your dad?’
‘He couldn’t get through to me,’ I said quickly, walking downstairs. The boy was following close behind me. ‘My phone keeps screwing up. I’ll text you later.’
And with that, I opened his front door, walked towards my dad’s car and quickly got in, locking it and driving away as the boy stood at his front door, seemingly bewildered. I sped home, feeling complete relief to be out of that situation. If I hadn’t arranged with my dad to text him a code word in an emergency, how far would this guy have gone? To this day, I don’t know what would have happened, and I’m just so glad that I got out safely.
As soon as I got home, I checked Facebook, and saw that the guy had posted a status consisting of one simple word, ‘Ugh’. I quickly unfriended him, blocked his number, and never contacted him again. I saw him a couple of times in the shop, but ducked away before he could see me. There is so much that I would do differently now. I would have pushed him away in the laser tag on our first date. I wouldn’t have arranged to see him again. I certainly wouldn’t have gone to his house knowing we were likely to be alone, especially as I barely knew him.
However, I’m also a lot more headstrong than I was back then – I know that none of what happened was my fault. It wasn’t my fault that I felt scared of being seen as ‘frigid’ – that was on him for making me feel that way. It wasn’t my fault that he ‘expected’ something to happen when I went to his house – that was his assumption, and his alone. I also know that there will be some people reading this and thinking, Well, you went there alone, what did you expect? To which I say: you’re a part of the problem. I’m not the scared little girl that I was back then: take responsibility for how you make others feel when it comes to getting physical with them.
This wasn’t fun to write – this was a memory I have definitely tried to repress over the years. Please take something from this story: you always, always have the right to say no. You have a right to feel safe in someone’s presence, not scared. If someone thinks you’re ‘frigid’ for not wanting to ‘do stuff’ with them, let them think it. Own it. Be ‘frigid’ and proud. Only you get to decide what happens to your body – no matter who else in your life thinks otherwise.
Also, shop boy, with the nice cheekbones and the unsexiest level of respect a man could have, I don’t know how else to say this. I want to wish you the best, and hope that the years have matured you. I have considered my words carefully, and contemplated being mature and only printing words that will reflect my feelings about you in years to come – so, honestly and sincerely, with as much love as I can muster, from me to you: I don’t wish for karma to strike down hard on you. I’m cutting out the part where I say ‘I wish you develop erectile dysfunction’. I simply hope that you no longer treat women the way you treated me – like an object. Like an opportunity to ‘get some’. Equally, I also hope that no one ever makes you feel pressured and uncomfortable the way that you did with me – you may not know this, but it is a horrible scenario to put anyone in. I hope you have seen the error of your ways.
For anyone who finds themself in a similar situation to the one I was in, I have some tips:
Have an emergency contact. Having my dad call me was the reason I was able to escape the situation I was in. I simply do not know how much more dangerous it would have gotten without an escape clause. Quite simply, if you are considering going to meet someone and you do not feel one hundred per cent comfortable: do not go. However, if you feel at ease, and then something about the situation changes, send a discreet text to a close friend or family member asking them to call you.
Do not be afraid of the word ‘no’. Of course, each situation is unique, and I do not know the temperament of the person making you feel uneasy, but more often than not, if you loudly state that you are uncomfortable and wish for someone to stop, then they will. As frustrating as it is, some people may simply not realise they are upsetting you unless you make your feelings vocal. Of course, in rare cases, others will know what they are doing to you, and continue – it is equally important to vocally state that you are uncomfortable. What you must not do is stay quiet and ‘go along’ with something that makes you feel uncomfortable. If your gut feeling is to leave, then do.
Always tell someone about what has happened, regardless of how far it went – if you felt uneasy at any point, then it is not your fault. You are not ‘frigid’, you are not ‘lame’ or ‘uncool’ or any other word that that person may have used to try and get you to continue. If you revoked consent at any point and that person did not immediately stop, then it is sexual assault. Talk about what happened with an adult that can help advise you on what further steps you should take. There are also helplines at the back of this book with professionals who are
advised on the laws surrounding your situation and equipped with knowledge on what to do. Remember: it was not your fault, you are not being ‘silly’, and you are not alone.
Coming Out
For the longest time, I have avoided the requests to talk about ‘coming out’. I never felt qualified (and to an extent, I still don’t) to talk about something I didn’t really experience, and it wasn’t until recently, when I made a video finally talking about my sexuality, that I realised I’d been struggling internally with accepting who I am and telling those closest to me.
Now, let me be clear – I am not saying that I am a lesbian or bisexual. The truth is, even in my mid-twenties, I still don’t really know. In 2016, I made a video called ‘I am sexually confused’ where I spoke openly about my confusion for the first time – despite spending the entire night dreading a phone call from my parents after it was uploaded. (That’s not to say they’re homophobic people – you just don’t know how others will react to the idea of you being attracted to people of the same sex in any way.) I finally felt comfortable enough with myself at the age of twenty-four to put my fears of judgement aside to try and help others who were going through the same, who might see the video and not feel so alone. As I sat there, looking at my phone, anxious at the thought of my parents texting me to tell me they were ‘disappointed’ or something – or worse, not talking to me at all – I realised that I have had this same internalised fear since I was about fourteen years old.
There was a girl in my school who ended up in all of my classes – and to me, she was perfect. She was beautiful, confident, funny . . . everyone liked her. No, everyone worshipped her. Even the bullies that picked on me daily left her completely alone. To me, she was the coolest girl I knew, and for the next two years, I didn’t know whether I wanted to be her or be with her. I began to hang around with her friend group at lunchtimes (although they often did their best to avoid me – more about this later) and I quickly changed everything about me in order to seem ‘cool’ to her. I listened to the bands she loved, I copied her fashion sense and hair colour. I was jealous of every friend she was closer to – and all I wanted to do was to be able to kiss her.
The thing is – and this is what was so confusing, being a teenager with no guidebooks on this sort of thing – that was as far as I could imagine going sexually with her. I could imagine holding her hand and kissing her, but the thought of doing further things of a sexual nature with her made me feel uncomfortable. Confused, I began to tell my friends that I was bisexual (this wasn’t something I was necessarily scared of doing – back in 2007, in the days of MySpace, it was cool to be emo and bisexual. Well, at least to other bisexual emos, it was). I was convinced that I was able to have crushes on guys and girls – but it was like having a crush without a sexual urge. I began getting drunk at my local skate park and making out with other drunk girls, trying to work out who I was. When you are younger, there is so much pressure to put a label on yourself, as everyone around you wants to put you in a certain box – gay, straight, bi, goth, nerd – and I decided for myself that I fitted into the ‘bi’ box. I definitely cared about the girl in my year, more than ‘just a friend’ would – but I just couldn’t imagine doing more than kissing her.
Not that it mattered – she was straight. After a little while, word about my ‘crush’ on this girl got around, and one day in biology class, whilst I was sitting at the workbench with her and her friends, she turned to me and said, ‘Well, we all know you’ve got a crush on me. Would you make out with me?’
Blushing as her friends looked at me, giggling, I shook my head and stared fiercely into my science book, wishing for the ground to swallow me up.
‘No.’
‘Oh, don’t lie, yes you would,’ one of her friends said, and they all laughed again. Much to my relief, our biology teacher must have been listening to the conversation and told us all off for talking, and that was that. Being humiliated for having feelings for my friend and being ‘called out’ for them in front of the people I desperately wanted to like me was one of the worst experiences I had during my school life. Shortly after that, my feelings for her began to fade.
I later found out from the comments on my video about being confused that what I’d experienced was a ‘squish’ – a crush but without any sexual desire. A longing to be in a romantic relationship with someone without necessarily wanting to have sex with them. Since that video, I have found a ‘label’ that I can always apply to myself if I ever feel the need (which I don’t): I am bi-romantic. I can fall in love with males and females, but I’m not sure if I could ever be sexually attracted to a female. Perhaps one day I’ll find myself in the right situation, where I feel comfortable and want to explore that side of my sexuality. Perhaps I am bisexual. Perhaps social conditioning has suppressed how I feel about girls, especially seeing as I’m far more into ladies when I’m drunk. If you’re told by society when you’re growing up that being gay is a bad thing, your brain will do what it needs for you to feel accepted by others – and that can include quashing your desires and feeling ashamed for being different.
However, the feeling of dread I had as a teenager at the thought of my parents finding out I was bisexual was a horrible experience. I’d convinced myself that that’s what I was, and I was fine telling my friends about it – but the fear of my mum and dad finding out and kicking me out of the house for it ran through my mind constantly throughout my teenage years. I am by nature a very anxious person. I struggle with catastrophic thinking – automatically imagining the worst scenario for every decision I make in my life. I hid my ‘orientation’ option on MySpace, just in case my dad discovered what MySpace actually was and somehow found my profile. Any time I selected ‘prefer not to say’ on a form, I was paranoid that my answer would somehow get back to my parents. I hid how I felt about people of the same sex right up until I acknowledged my feelings in that video in 2016 – and even then at the age of twenty-four, I sat by my phone for hours, dreading that I was no longer somebody’s daughter.
There is a happy ending to my story. No longer able to take the silence, I called my dad, and to my surprise, he answered. I asked if he’d seen my latest video, and even then tried to play it off: ‘Oh, you know, it’s just YouTube,’ despite meaning every word I’d said. My dad simply laughed, jokingly teasing me (this sounds mean, but I promise you he was trying to make me feel at ease), and that was it. We changed the subject. Everything was fine. Hanging up, I felt a rush of confidence like I’d never had before – I was fine the way I was, being able to love men and women. I was also, in a strange way, angry. I had been hiding who I was from the people who cared about me the most for absolutely no reason other than my own internal fears. Since then, I have been a lot more open about how I feel – being able to fall in love with twice as many people is no longer a weakness to me, but a strength. Perhaps one day, I’ll meet the right woman, and fall in love, and be just as happy as I could potentially be with a man. However, I believe that sexuality is fluid. Your sexuality could change the second you meet the right person, with the right set of traits and chromosomes that will seem almost tailor-made just for you. As you get older, you definitely become more confident with who you are as a person – I am living proof – although my happy ending is not always shared by others struggling with their own identity.
Living at home and feeling terrified to tell your parents or other loved ones about your sexuality can be a horrible thing to go through. I completely ruled out having a girlfriend for the entire time I lived at home, just in case my parents found out and happened to get mad (I know now that they probably would have been fine with it after the initial shock). I felt ‘lucky’ to still be attracted to people of the opposite sex so that I could avoid the question entirely – but this isn’t the case for those who identify as gay or lesbian. I cannot imagine hearing questions from family members such as, ‘So, when are you going to get a boyfriend/girlfriend?’ when you cannot think of anything less desirable. Th
is also applies to those who identify as asexual – feeling ‘wrong’ for not being sexually attracted to anyone, male or female or other, and being told that you ‘Just haven’t found the right person yet’!
I didn’t address my sexuality with my family until I was twenty-four years old. I wasn’t living at home and was completely independent from their income. In my mind, I had played out so many worst-case scenarios: being removed from the family, kicked out with nowhere to go – I know now that none of this would have happened, but because of my fear, I suppressed the person that I truly was until I was able to survive on my own just in case. Because I was far too scared of the reaction I would receive, I never ‘came out’ in the traditional way of sitting my parents down and telling them. I kept telling myself, If I just date boys, I won’t have to come out at all, so I cannot say that I have been in the same situation as so many of you, struggling to talk about your identity.
There are some helplines given at the back of this book that will allow you to talk to a professional who will be able to advise you about how to come out. However, my one piece of advice I would definitely give to anyone struggling is to find another family member – perhaps an aunt or an older cousin – who would be willing to accompany you and support you when you tell your parents. Coming out can be a shock to others, and lead to them immediately acting irrationally. Having another calm adult in the same room can help your parents/loved ones see that you are still the same person they have always known and loved. If you are coming out after getting into a relationship with someone of the same sex, and their own parents know and are accepting of their sexuality, ask for them to be present when you tell your family. I cannot guarantee your family will accept you – I do not know them. However, I do know that you are wonderful as you are, and your sexual orientation does not define how kind you are, or how intelligent and funny you are, and it certainly doesn’t turn you into a monster as soon as others find out. Your heart will continue beating after you come out as gay/bi/pan/ace/other – and we are slowly but surely becoming a world where the younger, more accepting generation are becoming the older generation. Homophobia and prejudice will sadly always exist in some form across the world, but in our lifetime, we will be one step closer to fewer teen suicides linked to sexuality. This has given me comfort many times over the years. If I have children in the future, they will have nothing to fear if they discover that they are on the LGBTQ+ spectrum. We are the more accepting future.
Feel Good 101_The Outsiders' Guide to a Happier Life Page 12
