By the time I started dating in high school, I’d already been sexually assaulted. Those early relationships were a little extra fraught for me—I’d only had the terminology to accurately describe what had happened to me for about a year, and the idea of talking about it in any detail was downright terrifying. Still, I was a teenage girl who rocked out to Taylor Swift and desperately wanted to know love, and when presented with the opportunity, I dove into dating.
My first boyfriend, who lasted approximately three months and was away for summer vacation for almost all of that time, never found out about my assault. (We still follow each other on Instagram, though, so maybe he knows now.) My second boyfriend, whose tenure neared a year and spanned my final months of high school, did. He was the first person I’d told besides my mom, who found out when it happened.