The Closer : Slutting It Up for Serotonin

You heard that right.

I did say 9-11.

I do mean the 9-11 as in the day that it actually happened.

I was a senior in high school and it was first period history.

It was surreal watching those planes crash into those towers over and over again on the news.

Being at that age where you're about to become an adult and you're trying to grasp the gravity of what's actually happening, around you and nobody knows what to do, nobody knows what to say.

It's definitely a moment where you realize there's no adults in the room because the teachers and the administration were equally as stunned and overwhelmed by what was happening all around us.

There was this girl and she's a sophomore and she was in the gym just crying her eyes out, huddled up in a corner and everybody thought she must have known somebody in New York.

She must have known someone on one of those planes.

But I had a terrible secret because I knew that she didn't know anybody on those planes.

I knew exactly why she was crying because the weekend prior, I slept with her boyfriend and I did it on purpose.

This was not an accident.

I did not know.

This wasn't the guy's fault.

I mean, I guess it kind of was.

but I intentionally had done it this girl had hurt my feelings this girl had said some mean and nasty things to me and about me and so I was using sex as a weapon I was weaponizing this not to hurt the dude but to hurt his girlfriends and I'm not proud of it now but I was proud of it then because you see that version of me I was 17 years old and I had just freshly come off of being raped by two of my quote unquote friends at a frat party.

Guys that I knew, guys that I went to middle school with, guys that I trusted, guys that I took a drink from in a Red Solo cup that was filled with whatever fucking narcotic they had popped into it so that they could dragged me upstairs.

I was pretty limp in my body, but I was still very present in my mind.

I could still like understand what was happening.

I just couldn't do anything about it.

Like my body wasn't responding to like the mental commands that I was giving it.

They recorded this and it was fucking terrible right to be so helpless and just lay there and know what was happening and not be able to fight back not being able to yell out for help and just not really understanding why they were doing this to me i remember like that feeling it was almost like a movie where the like tears like streaking down your face and just laying there limply They knew where I lived, so they took me home afterwards and left me on the front lawn.

You know, I'd got in trouble for being late for curfew.

But I didn't tell anybody.

No one.

You heard that right.

I did say 9-11.

I do mean the 9-11 as in the day that it actually happened.

I was a senior in high school and it was first period history.

It was surreal watching those planes crash into those towers over and over again on the news.

Being at that age where you're about to become an adult and you're trying to grasp the gravity of what's actually happening, around you and nobody knows what to do, nobody knows what to say.

It's definitely a moment where you realize there's no adults in the room because the teachers and the administration were equally as stunned and overwhelmed by what was happening all around us.

There was this girl and she's a sophomore and she was in the gym just crying her eyes out, huddled up in a corner and everybody thought she must have known somebody in New York.

She must have known someone on one of those planes.

But I had a terrible secret because I knew that she didn't know anybody on those planes.

I knew exactly why she was crying because the weekend prior, I slept with her boyfriend and I did it on purpose.

This was not an accident.

I did not know.

This wasn't the guy's fault.

I mean, I guess it kind of was.

but I intentionally had done it this girl had hurt my feelings this girl had said some mean and nasty things to me and about me and so I was using sex as a weapon I was weaponizing this not to hurt the dude but to hurt his girlfriends and I'm not proud of it now but I was proud of it then because you see that version of me I was 17 years old and I had just freshly come off of being raped by two of my quote unquote friends at a frat party.

Guys that I knew, guys that I went to middle school with, guys that I trusted, guys that I took a drink from in a Red Solo cup that was filled with whatever fucking narcotic they had popped into it so that they could dragged me upstairs.

I was pretty limp in my body, but I was still very present in my mind.

I could still like understand what was happening.

I just couldn't do anything about it.

Like my body wasn't responding to like the mental commands that I was giving it.

They recorded this and it was fucking terrible right to be so helpless and just lay there and know what was happening and not be able to fight back not being able to yell out for help and just not really understanding why they were doing this to me i remember like that feeling it was almost like a movie where the like tears like streaking down your face and just laying there limply They knew where I lived, so they took me home afterwards and left me on the front lawn.

You know, I'd got in trouble for being late for curfew.

But I didn't tell anybody.

No one.