For one last time || My story.

XII

About it.

So it happened when I started university. I had just turned 18.

Okay lemme give you a background about myself first. I have studied my whole life in a convent girls school. So I never had male friends in school. I was not allowed to either.
Outside school, in my neighbourhood area, I had male friends who were either too old or too young than me. I think they were just people who I went to the park and played with. Not really friends.
So what I am trying to say is I never had a guy friend.

When it happened it was also the time when I became active on social media, specifically on instagram. I had an instagram account at that time, and it was all new to me. So I excitedly started following people and pages involving writing and poetry. I always loved poems, I still do.

I used to follow this poet, whose name I won't mention, but will mention intinalls, AB. He was really good at it. In his poems he spoke about pain so beautifully that it felt so real. The sole focus of his poems was pain, at that time. So I was naturally drawn towards his poetry.

One day he was doing this live sesion on Instagram and I was kind of replying to him in that live sesion. Then I messaged him about how beautiful his poems are, and how I am fascinated towards them, on the dm thingys on instagram. He replied which was surprising, because I mean he had a huge fan following at that time.
And he asked me why I was drawn towards his poetry and we started talking on the dm thingy.
(FYI, he was the mentor of one of my favourite authors of that time, so I thought very highly of him at that time. And she was a best selling author of 3 novels.) So it was surprising to me that he had even replied to my messages let alone had a conversation with me.

Then out of nowhere he asked me for my phone number and I was shocked yet again, because he was famous and someone like him was asking for MY number. I was stunned.
That is when I made a mistake and gave him my number. I gave him my number because I didn't want him to be mad at me or stop talking to me. Because it actually felt good to talk about your pain to someone who understands. I honestly thought he wouldn't call me or anything. But within minutes he called me, and I remember it was 12am when he did.
I sneaked into the small balcony in my room to talk to him. And we did. We spoke till 3am.

And we did that for the next week or so. It was like our little ritual. We used to talk for hours. Sometimes till 5am. And he seemed genuinely interested in me. (FYI again I never had a boyfriend back then. There was one guy who asked me out and that too he did as a dare/prank idk. And all my friends have boyfriend/s. So my situation was like not being loved by my family and no boy interested in me. I felt useless and I thought I was unlovable.)
So imagine my plight when this 26 year old poet whose poetry I adore, talks about love and things around it and shows interest in ME... I was over the moon.

By that time I had told AB about my family situation and how no one loves me, and the problems I was going through. Another mistake I made.
He sympathized with me. He understood. He was the first person whom I opened up to. And he didn't judge. I told him my deepest darkest secret and he would listen to all of it without any judgement. He was even concerned about me.

He didn't live in my town but he told me he was coming to my town this weekend and he wanted to meet me. I was over the moon when he told me he wanted to meet me. I mean imagine your favourite poet/author asking you to meet them. Too good to be true I know, but I thought he actually cared for me and was interested in me.

I will say something now, but don't laugh.

I thought I was in love with him. *Lmao* I know stupid, but at that time situation with my family was really bad, and this person comes in my life and shows interest in me and actually likes me and makes me feel loved he even said he loved me and wanted to be with me.
And age has never mattered to me so I really thought I was in love with him.

Then slowly our conversations started to drift towards lust. I will say that I was innocent at that time but not completely ignorant. I knew what sex was and how they do it. But I was still naive.

I didn't know a lot of things. AB made be believe that if you wanna be loved, you need to have sex.
And I was dumb enough to believe it.

He told me that when he will come to my town he wants to know more about me, spend time with me and have sex with me. Because that is the only way I can feel loved.
I was a bit taken aback but then I remembered how he used to tell me that I am the most beautiful girl he has ever seen, and that I had pretty eyes and cute smile, and sexy body and how he always wanted to eat that face of mine. I didn't think at that time that anything was wrong with those comments because I liked it. Yes I liked it because he was the first guy to notice me and I loved it. I felt worthy.
So I agreed.
Yes I agreed to have sex with a man who was eight years older to me, whom I met online only a week ago.

I was scared at first when he told me about it. But he made me believe that he will make me feel loved. That I will feel much better. That my first time should be with someone as understanding and as good as him. So i agreed.

But then I slept over it. I mean not literally because I didn't get an ounce of sleep that night.
I was scared. I mean even though I thought I loved him, he was still a stranger to me. And having your first time is supposed to be special right?

So the next day after my classes at uni, I called him.
We never spoke on call during daytime, but I still called him and he answered and I told him that I cant have sex with him.
He was like okay then we can't do this. We can't meet.
I was stunned.
I thought he actually meant when he said those "i love yous". But he was like we can't talk anymore.
He made me feel guilty about it.
He blocked my number.
I was heartbroken.

But that's not the point here. The point is, it was wrong. I don't know if this counts as molestation. I mean he didnt offer sex to a minor. I was 18, but I was naive and desperate to be loved. He took advantage of that and manipulated me.
I know it's not a valid reason, but it hurt me.
He manupilated me and made me belive he was in love with me just to fuck me. And I was heartbroken over it for months. I used to cry myself to bed every night. I thought it was my fault.

But it wasn't.

I sometimes wonder what it would be like if I had said yes that day to him. What would it be like if I had agreed.

Would I finally feel loved?

I wonder if this would have even happened if I was loved by my family.
I know it's wrong to blame them for something they didn't even know happened.

But I can't help and question myself.

What would it feel like if I had understanding and loving and normal parents, with whom I could share anything without the fear of being physically abused.

Would it happen?