This Is What Happened After My First One Night Stand

I was 18, and vulnerable.

I was fresh out of an incredibly controlling, abusive relationship with a man who made sure to tell me that I was a horrible human being for having a sexual history before he came into my life. At that point, I hadn't even slept with many people in my life - but, the funny thing is that facts never seem to matter to people like him.

Being female is weird like that, I've noticed. Even if you're the epitome of prim and proper, there's no way to win - you're a sinner in people's eyes before you even do the sin. What makes things weirder is that everyone always seems to have their own opinion of how you're supposed to look, act, and be.

As a woman, society has a weird way of saying that your body and sexuality are not your own. In a weirder way, many people also make a point of judging you if you choose to say that your life choices are your own - even though your choices have no impact on their lives.

That strangely oppressive, controlling pressure society puts on girls had seeped into almost every aspect of my life at that point. I tried to measure up. I really did. I was a straight A student (not good enough, you need extracurriculars), I was trying to have a relationship (not good enough, you should be a virgin), and I was desperately just trying to fit in (not good enough, you don't have the right clothing brands).

Call it rebellion, or just call it realizing you're playing a rigged game, but one night shortly after the breakup, something in me snapped. I looked at my clothing - an awkward mix of conservative with faux-edgy style. I looked at my classwork - a pile of books in a subject I hated.

I had sold out to please people who didn't like me, or care about me enough to seem to support my own desires. Even my own parents didn't seem to know or care about what I wanted for my own life at that point. Between that realization and the breakup, I decided that enough was enough.

The only things that really had anything to do with what I liked and what I enjoyed was my music. I looked at the pile of CD's in my collection - Goa trance, psytrance, Scooter, Nine Inch Nails...

Fuck it, I thought, I'm going to a rave.

Hooking up at a rave is a lot easier than I thought it'd be.

It took me a while to actually find a real rave to go to online. This wasn't during the EDM boom; raves were rare and you had to know someone to go to one.

But, I found one, and despite listening to my mom screaming at me not to go, I went out to a rave being held in a field in the middle of the Pine Barrens with my best friend.

That's where I saw him.

I didn't know his name. He was wearing a furry yellow vest emblazoned with Rainbow Brite on the back. His Kik pants had bellbottoms that were larger than my hips. He was looking at me, waving, and offering to dance with me.

I didn't really see most of his face, either. His gas mask let me only see his eyes - a rich brown, even when the bright glow of the propped up UV lamps hanging from the makeshift DJ sets hit them. In those eyes, I saw a level of acceptance I hadn't seen before.

Somehow, I knew that I was beautiful in those eyes - a feeling I wasn't ever really used to.

Maybe it was the hardstyle remixes coursing over the fields, rattling the sand beneath our feet. Maybe it was the fact that my best friend was busy glowsticking and talking about glassblown bongs with some people.

Maybe it was just the fact that I was sober and felt high as a kite off the freedom of being around people who just let me be the awkward, weird freak I was without judgment...

But without saying a word, I pulled him into the woods, and we had sex.

After we had sex, I woke up realizing I was naked in the middle of the woods.

I woke up with ants all over my naked body, and my first real one night stand holding me as he tried to brush the ants off my leg. At this point, I didn't really know what to do or say. So, I introduced myself. He introduced himself as Emir - and he was actually totally okay with the random sex that happened.

Emir was very, very understanding about it all. To a point, talking to him was uncanny. Maybe it was my clothing style (not raver-like at all), but he decided to sit down and talk to me.

"Don't do this often, do you?"

"Nope."

"Why not?" he asked. "You're cool."

"I'm not supposed to, I guess? I'm not supposed to be slutty or something. I mean, I get called one a lot anyway, and guys don't date girls who've been around, do they? Like, I'm not a slut. Please, don't think I'm a slut. Guys don't go out with sluts, I'm a good person, like..." I said. (Yes, I started rambling.)

He held up his hand, "Dude, let me get this straight. You're worried about being a slut."

"Yes."

"And you already get called a slut."

"Yes."

"And people act like they hate you, and tell you that they'll never date you because they called you a name?"

"Yes," I said, growing increasingly shy and embarrassed.

"You aren't hurting anyone by having sex, are you?"

"No... but they said I was not showing self-worth for having sex with people?" I said, confused at myself as the words came out of my mouth.

He burst out into laughter, "Dude, they sound like fucktards! You aren't hurting anyone by having sex! You're giving them a good time! Isn't that what we're here for? The fuck is wrong with them?"

Click - the lightbulb went off in my head.

I looked at him, no longer embarrassed, realizing that he had a point. The people who were calling me a slut and a whore never liked me, nor would they ever like me. If I'm already going to do the time, I might as well commit that crime.

As crazy as it was to think, it never dawned on me that sex isn't something horrible. It's what our bodies are built to do. As long as we're both enjoying it, who are we to be judged?

I was butt naked in the woods, in as natural a state as a human being could be. I burst out into laughter, and with each giggle, another brick wall of the imaginary prison built around me fell.

I was free.