29. My stepsister molested me from I was six until I was nine.

“My stepsister molested me from I was six until I was nine; the few times I have tried to tell a couple people that I thought were close friends laughed it off and told me that it was impossible because I’m a guy. At that point I usually just tried to spin it like I was joking because they said I was lying and that if a guy has that happen to him it’s not rape because he probably enjoyed it.

It has fucked me up mentally from the actual incident and just from the few that I have tried telling in real life that just laugh it off. I feel embarrassed whenever I think about it and like less of a man because of it. I want to get a therapist but I’m afraid of them just laughing it off, too, and saying to get over it.”
—Melgitat_Shujaa

30. Nobody tells you that performing cunnilingus on future partners is always going to remind you of the time your face was forcibly buried between her thighs.

“Nobody ever talks about it. Nobody. Consequently, there is nobody to refer you to. There’s no crisis line, there’s no support group. What there is, is a counselor that takes your family’s money for a year or two, playing checkers with you every other week, trying to probe answers out of your skull. And that eventually, the solution is that you ‘Need Jesus to intercede.’ Thanks, asshole, you cost my family thousands in therapy, but God is the answer? Asshole never asked the right questions anyway.

They also never tell you that the price of keeping your family together is your silence, after your female fourteen-year-old cousin molests you repeatedly. Nobody tells you that performing cunnilingus on future partners is always going to remind you of the time your face was forcibly buried between her thighs, and that that would efficiently stop you from being able to enjoy an act many men love to share with their partner above all else.

Nobody tells you that, as a further act of just keeping things going normally, that you might have to attend her wedding to some relatively wealthy seafood importer, and how rosy she is in life. They don’t warn you not to drink your brother and your uncle under the table so you don’t cry hysterically, even twenty years after the fact.

And finally, they don’t warn you that the words ‘this is what people do with each other when they love each other, don’t you love me?’ would be enough to make me abandon everything I had been taught about bad touching. It has just enough truth to it to be the perfect thing to disarm a bright young man being rushed into a world he doesn’t comprehend.”
—DisposableBastard