A Boy experiences the Emotions of a Man

I was asked to write an article about the impact on a young boy being raped by a woman.  We frequently view a boy who is raped by a woman as "hitting the lotto". This blog is intended to bring a little reality to that perspective and show how a boy is changed and his values distorted. Maybe it is time we considered this rape as a REAL crime and not a rite of passage. My first thought was to discuss it in practical, almost clinical, terms.  The following approach for me seemed to capture the life changing effect in a more real way.  Would love to have comments back.

A Boy experiences the Emotions of a Man:

I was 12 when I got my first car.  I didn’t even know the beautiful girl that gave it to me.  She was a older, maybe 8-10 years, maybe more.  Her gift surprised me because it was a bright yellow and spanking new Maserati.  I had never seen anything like it before and told her I wasn’t old enough to drive and didn’t have a license- she said not to worry.  I told her my parents would be furious, and she said we just wouldn’t tell them.  I got behind the wheel and felt grown up and like a king!  Her warm touch reinforced that I was man enough for this adventure. I drove it, and drove it fast, but only in secret.  I started to lie to friends and family, so they wouldn’t know, but I would have done anything to continue driving my Maserati. It was a thrill and an exhilaration I had never felt before.

Right after I turned 16, I went to meet her and drive again, but there was only a note at our meeting place “Dear John, I have met another and am giving my Maserati to him. “  She didn’t even sign it or say she cared.

I lived in emotional turmoil for days and weeks after that.  I couldn’t tell anyone, because that would expose my secret and all the lies.  The memories of the supercharged emotions I felt while driving the Maserati sustained me for a while, but I needed a REAL replacement.  I looked everywhere for that replacement.

Since I had no money, I couldn’t rent a replacement and so I started buying Maserati magazines and reading about them all the time.  Pretty quickly, I became addicted to the magazines and had to look at them every day.  I kept them hidden, for fear of my secret life being exposed.  The more I read the more I fantasized about having a Maserati again. I test-drove every car I could get my hands on, even if I had to bribe and cajole the owner, but nothing compared to that Maserati.  Cars were objects to me and the only thing I cared about was whether they could measure up to that first experience. The first Maserati felt like a “love affair”, but after that there was no emotion only an overpowering need to be filled.

I finally made a commitment to a car just for me.  It was a Honda Accord, which was a really nice car, but definitely not a Maserati.  Every time I drove it, I thought of the Maserati.  I gave my Honda the care it required, but never the attention it deserved. My mind was forever tied to that first drive and the powerful emotions it created. It established a standard for emotional experiences that I could never repeat and, throughout my life, gave me a sense of inadequacy and loss.  Even 20, 30, and 40 years later, I was still dreaming and fanaticizing about that Maserati.  That first ride had made my entire life seem downhill and a sad failure.

The Story between the lines:

I didn’t win the lotto and it definitely did not make me a man or a better man. I didn’t realize I was being seduced and used from the very first moment.  Promiscuity didn’t help and pornography didn’t help either. I didn’t realize until too late that I was simply an object to her, a conquest to make. She left me comparing every intimate moment in my life to that of a naïve 12-year-old boy.  She left me feeling stupid and embarrassed, untrusting and fearful of intimate relationships, because nothing could match the standard of that first moment or the despair of  subsequently being discarded.  Love, intimacy and affection were all measured against the same standard, since I had no understanding of how different they really were.  They required trust and I couldn’t.  They require commitment and I couldn’t. They were not meant to be sex, they were meant to be joyful experiences in themselves shared with another person-I simply missed all of that in life.