The Worst Part of the Trump Tapes
Alaura Weaver

This article brought back a horrible, embarrassing memory for me. I was 12, just starting to blossom, and was dressed in short shorts and a cute shirt, up at the local ball field. My older sister was there (she was 21) with lots of friends. One of them, a real sleaze ball, started to sweet talk me in front of everybody. I was horribly embarrassed as he sidled up to me and put an arm around my shoulder. Eventually he asked for a kiss. The other guys were joking about my being jail bait, that kind of thing. (Looking back on it, I wonder: was there at least one person there who felt as uncomfortable as I did about what was going on, and who wanted to say something, but felt the peer pressure not to??) I gave him a quick peck on the lips, but then he urged me to slow down… Good God, I swear I can’t even remember what I did next, if I even let him kiss me longer. I might have. At home later, my sister was telling my mother what happened, and they both were chuckling. I remember feeling so awkward and angry. Why had my sister not put a stop to it?? Why was my mother chuckling along with her? And I also felt deep shame at myself, for the feelings of pride I felt at being pretty, for wanting to show off my figure in that outfit.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.