My mother noticed some signs. I was less and less talkative; I would get home from the university and lock myself in my room. I would be constantly sneaking out to shady places with shady people that I obviously didn’t tell her, but she noticed it through my lying eyes. Her solution: a vacation. She made my sister buy me a ticket to Boston and spend the whole summer there. I didn’t even think about it; I was honestly relieved. I wanted to get the hell away from all the chaos: those guys I briefly dated, that “girlfriend” that received money from some guys to go out with me, him…that guy that once again betrayed my feelings. I wanted to have a fresh start. I was tired of the backstabbing, tired of the faking, tired of the suffering. I wanted to live a different reality.
My time staying in the states was between staying with my sister en Massachusetts and with my cousins in New Jersey. A lot of things happened during that summer of 2012; but I’ll highlight the most important: I lost my virginity. It wasn’t something I consciously planned; it just happened. My sister introduced me to the son of one of her friends for me to hang out with, since she was always working or taking care of the kids. I was 2 years older than him. He had a car and he used to drive me around the town, eat lunch, meet up with his friends and smoke weed in his car. He was a nice, cool kid. During one of his friend’s basement party a friend of his caught my eye: he was tall and tanned, with light brown curly hair and a buff body. I’ll always remember him because he has a Latino last name that coincidentally a Dominican baseball player also has: Acevedo. By that time, I had that bit of shyness that I usually had and the friend with who I was hanging with noticed that I kind of liked the kid, so he told him; eventually Acevedo asked me out and we went out for a date. He picked me up at the Episcopal church my sister was attending one sunday morning, and we went out to get ice cream; we talked about life and ended up at his place…yes, it was a bad idea.
We eventually ended up having sex…yes, it was my first time ever having penetrative sex. No, it didn’t matter that it was with someone I barely knew; actually it was one of the best things I ever did. Did it matter? Not for me at least, but he apparently gave it importance and bragged about it with his friends, including the one I’ve been hanging out with. To make the story short, my alleged friend told his mother and she ended up telling my sister. So yeah, you can imagine the magnitude. My sister called my mother and my mother called my aunt in Jersey, all because I lost my virginity. I was 19 years old and everyone thought it was a big deal but me (If you come from a Latino family, maybe you’ll feel more identified). My sister sent me the next day to my aunt’s house in New Jersey to spend the rest of my vacations, maybe she just didn’t want to deal with me at the time; I honestly never asked, because I honestly didn’t care.
The next day I lost my virginity, I was in Jersey. My aunt who auto-proclaimed herself as the family’s therapist (with no professional accreditation whatsoever), tried to talk and reason with me about the occurred. Out of all the things she told me, she even proposed to send me to a plastic surgeon to make a reconstruction of my hymen, that way I could keep “saving myself until marriage” and no one would notice. This was the most bizarre thing I’ve ever heard, out of the other bizarre things she told. During my stay in Jersey, I went through a phase of internal madness and I felt completely powerless, as if my life had to be managed by others, as if my decisions had to be discussed, as if my body was something of public matter. I diluted my feelings by smoking more weed and going out to party with my cousins. I was at a point in where I rebelled myself against what people thought; Oh, I’m such a clean and pristine girl. Yes, I’m a virginal girl that has to wait to enjoy sex until I got married. After all the things I had gone through, I thought I deserved to have some fun. I didn’t care about him, or my family; I didn’t care about those alleged friends that only betrayed and sank me deeper into the mud. I just wanted to be me; I wanted to be free: free from the feelings, free from the opinions, free from the sexual oppression, free from myself.
I dosed myself in marijuana, hookah smoke (first and last time I ever smoked that thing) and vodka. The days passed and all I was looking forward to was going to the next party and hanging out with my cousins. Even though I decided to stop talking to him, one day I wrote to him on Facebook that I had lost my virginity. I don’t really know why I did that. I was just so mad that I wanted to show him that he wasn’t the lucky one to steal my virginity away as I knew he wanted to. I honestly don’t even remember what he answered.
The last day I was in Jersey, I fucked one of my cousin’s friends; because I wanted to. Because I didn’t owe it to nobody. Because I could do so. That day I felt I was regaining my self-esteem; because I felt wanted, because my feelings will never get hurt again, because I was stronger, because I didn’t need to think about him anymore. The day after I lost my virginity for a second time, I came home, where an ex-girlfriend already had a guy matched for me, and my mother was anxious to tell me: “I am disappointed in you”.