Yesterday I had another date. Third one this weekend. However, I ended up putting myself in a potentially dangerous situation.

I own it. Not gonna lie, it was my poor judgement and need to please that got me there. I'm too ashamed to talk about it, but GT is a safe place. I barely remember what happened, and that's what scares me the most.

So, I went out to a bar (mistake one) with this guy. He goes to my school, and seemed pretty nice. I ended up going back to his place (mistake two) to drink some more (mistake three). Then-and this is rare for me-we smoked some weed (mistake four). We made out a bit, which I was cool with. Maybe I started sending the wrong signals, maybe it was mutual. But then I ended up in his bed (mistake five), crossfaded and eager to please him (mistake six).

Here's where it gets kinda fuzzy. I don't know if we had sex. I don't think so. But it was-uncomfortable and enjoyable? I guess physically, I was having some fun, except I didn't cum-stress maybe? Again, this is really hard for me to talk about.

I was feeling sleepy and eventually a cab was called. I think the driver picked up on some of my distress, so he put on Sinatra. Calmed me down a bit.

I ended up breaking down at home. I didn't know if I should text him to see if I needed the morning after pill, because I'm not on birth control. I don't think we had sex, because I didn't feel a condom and I think he just used his fingers. I don't really remember what I did to "do my part". This is a hard thing for me even to admit.

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I gave consent-not verbally, but I guess physically. I don't even know if that counts. I couldn't sleep, took a few showers, and today I feel crappy (because of the booze, weed, and shame). I have to finish a paper today, and go to the gym (which I'm going to bail on, because I need to call my therapist-and I don't even want to admit it to her. She never judges me, but I'm afraid she'll be disappointed). The worst thing is I have no friends to reach out to. They're all busy, they wouldn't understand, and they probably wouldn't respond. Even if I told them what I'm telling you guys.

I'm going to cry now. I'm admitting to myself that I made a mistake. It was my fault that I came off too easy, that I got fucked up, and that I can't really remember a lot. I'm scared to ask if we had sex. I don't want to tell him that things got hazy.

I don't want to go back to bed, because I can't stop thinking about all the shame. I don't want to eat because I feel sick. I'm sore, and I don't want to workout. I'm stressed because of this paper. And I don't know what to do.

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Part of me wishes I had dissociated again. All of me would take back everything. I feel guilt, self-loathing, and, again, shame.

I don't know what to do. I need to talk to someone, but I'm too worn out. I have no one to blame but myself.

This isn't as fun as my previous posts. Maybe this is an SOS that I don't even want to send out. I just feel like I have to.

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Update One: thank you everyone. I'm buying the pill in about 10 minutes.

Update Two: Took pill. Called aunt. I'm scared, but I think I'll be ok. Also bought pregnancy test to use in two weeks.

Update Three: I am giving everyone ALL the hugs. Got in touch with my therapist, friends, and brother. Didn't tell BroVV what happened, but he gave me some really kind words:

I love you so much VV. It's going to be ok. Pretend you're Brock Samson, and remember: You made it through to today. You're going to be fine.

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I love my brother more than anyone in my family, except maybe Barbie, my grandma.