Since I’m on the topic of sex, I thought I might recount the tale of the night my high school English teacher nearly tore my clothes off. I was on very friendly terms with this teacher, and had spent time with his wife and young children. One night, when I was sixteen years old, he and I went to the movies together. This may seem like an odd occurrence, but it had initially been a group event where others cancelled.
He kept his hands to himself during the film (I wish I could remember what movie it was!), but after he drove me home, and we sat in my parents’ dark driveway with the engine running, his hand was suddenly between my legs and his clammy tongue down my throat. My initial shock was not that this was my English teacher, nor that he was much older than I was (he was early 40s). My only shock was that a married man would so boldly cross the line, to dive into another woman’s body.
I didn’t shove him off me, but I didn’t kiss him back either. I was frozen. His kiss grew deeper and his fingers drew aside the crotch of my undies (I was wearing a skirt). It was when he started to penetrate me that I shoved his hand away.
He recoiled, trembling and panting for breath. After some silence I diplomatically pointed out that we had no real future together. He eventually let out a long sigh, and said in the saddest voice: “I feel like an alcoholic who just had his first drink in years.”
We never spoke much after that. I’m not sure what the age of consent was in that state– for all I know he committed a major crime that evening.
Years later he applied for the headmaster position of that school. I was tempted to write a letter ratting him out to the board of trustees, but I never did.