August 13, 1998
Today, around 7pm, Alicia and I decided to go for a walk. A car full of boys drove by. It was Andrew, Chris Walker, and some of their older friends. They pulled into the driveway of one of their houses, right next to where we were standing.
They walked with us down to the pond, and they had beers, so I had a few sips. It tasted okay. Chris started trying to grab my boobs, and he wasn't drunk, he is just always like that. They weren't flirting with Alicia as much, and I was kind of glad. [Interesting that I conflated "trying to grab my boobs" and "flirting."]
Then Andrew was like, "Want to go swimming?" And we were like, "At this nasty pond?" And he said, "No, at my house." So we all walked to Andrew's house, and he has an above-ground pool, so we sat in the chairs around the pool.
They said, "Emily, strip down and jump in!" I said no, so Andrew grabbed my arm and started to drag me toward the pool. Then Chris joined in. I finally managed to pull away and ended up falling in the dirt.
I really didn't want them to take off my tennis shoes, because I wasn't wearing socks and my feet would have smelled awful. [I distinctly remember the terror of this moment, mostly that they would discover how stinky my feet were.]
Alicia and I decided we wanted to leave. So Chris and Andrew said they'd walk us home. The whole way, Chris was wrapping his arm around me and grabbing at my boob. I stood still and told him to stop it, without sounding too mean, and he reached out and stuck his hand up my shirt.
I don't know how to feel. I technically went to second base with Chris, even though I told him not to.
YOU ARE READING
The UnSlut Project
Non-FictionI was the 6th-grade "slut." And I kept a diary. So I decided to create The UnSlut Project in the hopes that my own diary entries could provide some perspective to girls who currently feel trapped and ashamed. I am publishing these entries one at a...
