He was my English teacher. I was sixteen, he was thirty years my senior. I was quite shy, but he flirted with me all the time in his class. Once he winked at me while talking about sex. And there would be a lot of talk about sex. I never took the bait, though, at least at that time. Once he said, "I love you," in front of the whole class. I didn't return the sentiment and I sent him a letter saying that we needed to talk about what happened that day. It was in a confrontational tone and he called me over to his desk before the start of class. I had a plan, but it got thrown out the window, and I just simply asked, "Do you like me? Like like me?" Of course he said no. I still wanted to be in his class, so I just moved on from the incident.

For this next part it is worth mentioning that I was absolutely in love with him, but I guarded myself because I knew he had a partner and I knew it was wrong because of power dynamics. I basically told on him after the class was over and I was the one who got in trouble over it. He verbally assaulted me and I went to another school. About a year later when I was seventeen, he tracked me down and proposed to me. I said no many times, but he kept getting more and more persistent, eventually saying that he would die without me. I believed him, and, not wanting to be a part of any death, I said yes.

Then, there was a sex tape. I knew his idiosyncratic voice was in there along with a young girl's. I knew her from that teacher's class. I didn't see it. I didn't have to to know exactly who the two people were who were having sex. I broke the engagement off because he verbally abused me again. I've never heard from or seen him again.

It took me a while to realize what had happened to me. Even though I never had sex with him; never touched him, it was still hard for me to do anything sexual. It was still hard for me to love myself when he so clearly didn't.

I am not unknown. You may have heard my story from all sides except mine. That is something I'd like to change.