Clothed sex drunk
I was surrounded by alcohol, most of which was free to me, and queues of men who loved to flirt with barmaids. Totting this all up in my head was exactly the shocking realisation I needed. Once they had slept with me, even those I had thought of as friends would simply ignore me. I started going back with a careful selection of these men. I probably reeked of desperation. Men who would kiss me briefly by the public toilets then push hard on my shoulders so I would go down on them. Exactly a year before this awful morning, I left a relationship that had felt increasingly suffocating.
I grabbed my clothes, stumbled to the toilet and threw up over and over until the only thing left in my stomach was guilt. To my left, an acquaintance — an unclean, predatory type of guy — whom I had never had a liking for. Totting this all up in my head was exactly the shocking realisation I needed. These rejections made me need constant reassurance. Once they had slept with me, even those I had thought of as friends would simply ignore me. I loved it when guys would text me telling me I looked pretty as they watched me pour drinks, or would wait until the end of my shift to walk me home. They would look at me and walk away, make a point of being served by a different bartender or even talk to someone else over my shoulder. As I drove away from home, I spent a lot of time thinking and calculating. Alamy I woke up in a strange bed, naked, between two naked men. I had tried drugs for the first time, and smoked and drank more in one night than I ever had before. Finally, I decided to forgive myself. It seemed funny at the time, but then the summer hit, and things started to change. I wanted so badly to stop, but it was easier said than done. Men who kicked me out early, claiming they had work, when really they were going to have sex with some other girl. I was addicted to the place, to the way it made me feel more wanted, yet more alone than ever. For the first time, I found myself free, and I was excited to flirt, kiss and go to bed with other men. I started going back with a careful selection of these men. I made a promise to have sex only when sober, and I have now been abstinent for three months. The morning I woke up between those two men was the same day I returned back to university for my second year. Men who would kiss me briefly by the public toilets then push hard on my shoulders so I would go down on them. A moment that changed me — when I decided to repay the NHS Andrew Davies Read more The problems began when I started working in a pub, to earn a bit of money and occupy my then bountiful amount of spare time. In one year, I had slept with 12 people, six of whom in the space of those two summer months. I probably reeked of desperation. Exactly a year before this awful morning, I left a relationship that had felt increasingly suffocating. One-night stands were casual and thrilling, and in the cloudiness of ignorance I thought I was being careful. It used to make me feel giddy giving in to their attempts, but the moment I left their house in the morning, I would feel like a used and discarded tissue.
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