Well...
Not a funny one.

Throughout my childhood, the only male member of my father's side of the family who didn't "have a go at me" was my father. From the age of 18 months, Uncle Thomas was caught having a fiddle inside my nappy. I remember at around four years old asking, "Mammy, why does Uncle George do nasty kisses?"
"What do you mean pet?"
"I don't like his kisses, they're all wet and he puts his tongue inside my mouth."

And so it went on. Never any nakedness or penetration, just inappropriate fondling. Constantly being told how gorgeous I was by my grandad, as he slipped £5 inside my skirt.
"Didn't you get a birthday card from uncletony this year?" my mother asked.
"Er, no. Maybe it got lost in the post?" I suggested. I had received his card - a picture of a woman wearing a wet vest, complete with sticky-out raspberries. It read, "To Sexpot, from Stinky". I was 11 or 12, and far too embarassed to put this one on display with the other cards. He was by far the worst. Every Christmas he'd buy me extortionately expensive gifts. Buying my silence. Etc.

So I grew up believing that was my purpose in life. There were frequently other adults around, none of whom seemed to react or notice anything amiss. "It must be ok then", thought my innocent little mind. "I don't like it, but none of the grown-ups ever say anything."

At 8 years old I developed alopecia. My GP diagnosed me with depression. However, my mother was discouraged from seeking any treatment for me as "it would remain on my medical and school records permanently". To say she still feels guilty about that is an understatement.

I took an overdose at 10 years old (24 paracetamol washed down with 2 litres of cider) to no avail. From 14, I began drinking really heavily, getting shitfaced to the point of oblivion. When I lost my virginity to rape 2 weeks after my 16th birthday, it wasn't any big deal - it was par for the course.

I left home at 18 to begin my nurse training. Then began my promiscuity in earnest. So absent was my self esteem, and so desperate I was for affection, I'd hop in the sack with any bloke. It was worth enduring the filth of sex to get a cuddle afterwards.


Then I found DG. Or he found me. We didn't sleep together for 4 weeks. We shared a bed, just cuddling all night. He respected me. He didn't just want sex. He wanted to know me, was interested in who I was. The more he knew, he still stuck around; accepting and respecting me regardless.

Here we are, almost 6 years later. He knows every nook and cranny of my darkness, knows all the vile things I've done over the years. And he's still here; accepting, respecting and loving me regardless. He makes me feel it's ok to be me. I'm not a bad person; I'm not dirty, contaminated goods. I'm ok. Although I am too ugly for my dad to fuck.
( baldmonkey a frothy foul-smelling vaginal discharge, Wed 13 Jan 2010, 19:50, 2 replies, latest was 16 years ago)

poor Balders

( mr horrible up yours, dickface, Wed 13 Jan 2010, 19:53, Reply)

Prick!

( girlinthehole, Wed 13 Jan 2010, 19:53, Reply)

ah, you know him

( mr horrible up yours, dickface, Wed 13 Jan 2010, 19:54, Reply)

Prick!

( baldmonkey a frothy foul-smelling vaginal discharge, Wed 13 Jan 2010, 19:55, Reply)

CUNT!

( girlinthehole, Wed 13 Jan 2010, 20:14, Reply)

ETC!

( baldmonkey a frothy foul-smelling vaginal discharge, Wed 13 Jan 2010, 23:04, Reply)