When I came to Tufts, I left behind a guy who meant more to me than I wanted him to. It was sappy and pathetic and stereotypical.
On the second day of orientation week, I met another guy who wanted to mean more to me than he did. He texted me good morning and good night, and he wanted to feel like he was romancing me. He was nothing like the boy I missed, and I made it clear that he knew it.
We kissed a couple of times, and we danced together at Fall Gala, and we hooked up afterwards in his room. It was all consensual, and I compared him to his predecessor the whole while.
The night after Fall Gala, I was in my room, waiting for the first boy to call me, which he never did. Around midnight, I agreed to go to the new boy's room. He lived on the floor above me. He said that he was sick and that he didn't want to kiss me and make me sick too, but that's not the way the night went.
I tried to convince him to at least use a condom, but he wouldn't let me leave to go get one.
He told me how soft my yellow skin was and how much he missed having an Asian girl to love. He told me that it was just a taste of what was to come and that I was a good fuck.
Afterwards, I cried, and he held me and shushed me and told me that I should want to be his girlfriend now, while I thought to myself that I should have tried harder to pretend I was giving my virginity away to the boy I left back home. He wouldn't let me leave until I agreed to keep having sex with him, and I barely slept that night.
The worse part is that there were moments that felt good. When I have to think about it, that's what I think of first, and it always makes me want to cry and scream and die. It makes me feel dirty and ashamed. It makes me feel like I deserved what I got.
The next day, with my orientation leader hiding in the stacks watching, I spoke to him again in Tisch Library. He said that I had been asking for it, and I was frightened enough to consider the possibility. He said that he would think it was a mistake unless it wasn't the only time that it happened, and as I left I said that if we couldn't be friends unless it kept happening, I wouldn't be his friend.
Immediately afterwards, the boy from home finally called and told me it was time for me to get over myself and get over him.