“Can I please, please go?” I begged my mom over the phone. At 14, with school almost out for summer and it being a half-day, I really wanted to hang out with my friend, Jenna, the one with the shiny black hair and perfect nose. My mom, of course, wasn’t thrilled about it.
Jenna had a brother, Ryan—the “cool” one, who all the girls swooned over—and he was going to be home that day, along with another boy from my class, Tommy, who was a notorious troublemaker, and Jenna’s boyfriend. I conveniently left out all those details when I spoke to my mom.
Why did Jenna get to do all the fun stuff, like have a boyfriend, stay out late, and smoke in her room? My mom was so strict, and I was fed up. I had to go.
“Fine,” my mom sighed, clearly overwhelmed with work. I hung up the payphone and rushed over to Jenna’s house.
When I arrived, the boys were there, and they had some bottles of alcohol. I had never tasted alcohol before, but how much harm could a little sip do, right? I took a drink, and before my 98-pound frame could react, it hit me like a freight train.
Jenna had disappeared with her boyfriend into another room, leaving me to navigate my first experience with alcohol alone. I couldn’t believe she was so bold—having sex right in her house! I couldn’t even talk on the phone past 10 p.m. at my place. What if her parents came home?
Her family was in the midst of a messy divorce, creating a chaotic environment that had turned Jenna manipulative. I witnessed her power play as she sat on her dad’s lap, giving her mom the most vicious glares. But none of that mattered to us; we just wanted to be cool.
As the drinks continued, I found myself upstairs in Ryan’s room, struggling to make the room stop spinning. The troublemaker was there too, wrapped in a blanket and laughing as he approached me. I barely registered his antics before I was in the closet with Ryan, who asked me, “Do you suck dick?” while pushing my head down. I didn’t really know what that meant, but I remembered my sister’s friend saying it was like French kissing, just… different.
The next thing I knew, I was in a shower, disoriented and dripping wet. The troublemaker popped his head in, laughed, and left. Alone, I slumped against the wall and felt self-conscious about my hair—thick and unruly, unlike Jenna’s shiny locks. I didn’t want to be seen looking like a hot mess.
Eventually, I stumbled down the stairs, head pounding, trying to sneak out past the crowd of kids. Of course, they recognized me.
In the aftermath, I pieced together that nothing physical happened to me, mainly because I ended up vomiting. The boys had to throw me in the shower to clean me up, and I was later dropped off at a girl’s house known for her party lifestyle. I had rules, a bedtime, and people who cared about me. How did I end up here?
Surprisingly, the incident slipped under the radar socially. Maybe it was summer approaching, or perhaps they felt sorry for me. I was grateful I was okay physically, but the embarrassment haunted me. At the time, I didn’t consider it sexual assault; after all, we were all underage, and nothing “really” happened, right? But as an adult, hearing about similar stories made my stomach churn.
What if I hadn’t gotten sick? What if Jenna’s mom hadn’t hurried home? What if I had drunk more? The reality is, my so-called friends weren’t looking out for me; they just wanted to avoid trouble.
As a mom now, these thoughts keep me up at night. I want my daughter to trust her instincts, to understand that friends don’t pressure you into harmful situations. I will teach her what a true friend looks like and how to stand up for herself.
My son will learn the importance of consent and respect for others’ bodies. He’ll understand that if he sees someone being taken advantage of, he needs to intervene.
I lost touch with Jenna over the years, and I don’t know what happened to Ryan—though I’ve heard he’s not as beloved as he once was. What I do know is that the day I thought I had under control still haunts me. I was lucky that things didn’t escalate further, reminding me that sometimes, almost counts.
If you’re interested in more on this topic, check out this article about navigating relationships and boundaries. For resources on fertility and self insemination, visit Make a Mom and CCRM IVF.
In short, it’s vital to teach our children about healthy boundaries, trust their instincts, and understand the importance of consent.