Why I Felt Like Shit Over A Kiss That Lasted 120 Seconds



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Stop. Stop. Stop. Let me go.” is what I told him, but he wouldn’t stop and didn’t let go.


He kept kissing on my neck for what felt like an eternity, but lasted maybe two minutes at most. My loving, over-protective parents — one in the shower, the other in the kitchen and my sister outside with the dogs– had no idea.


It was quick and almost dismissible. No one would’ve thought a man in his mid-thirties, a charismatic, friendly, “God-fearing” missionary would ever lay his hands lips on the neck of an eleven year old girl.


But he did and I didn’t say anything to my family for an entire year. I remember feeling incredibly guilty, and dirty and the recurring thought in my head was, “But he’s a Christian” and feeling very confused, because I knew Christians didn’t act that way and it didn’t make sense.


God is love and He never made me feel like that.

My Dad loves me and he never makes me feel like that.

I didn’t get it.


Now, I can’t imagine it going any further than that, so grateful that was the extent of it and I’m sure you would agree that I didn’t deserve that.


However, during that year of outward silence, and even for a time period after, I battled with shame, depression and thoughts of suicide.


I felt bad. Over a kiss on the neck that lasted at most 120 seconds.


Then there was that time in the doll aisle in Wal-Mart when I noticed a man following and watching tracking my every step.


Grannnnnny” I yelled and she came rushing over from the other aisle. “That guy keeps following me” I whispered. She cursed at him, grabbed my hand and we left.


I was maybe nine at the time.


Then, there was that other time when my dad’s parents considered buying a timeshare. They had finished the tour and were discussing options.


This man–who was a slightly skinnier version of Santa Claus–leaned toward me with a big ol’ grin and whispered, “You’re so pretty. I’d like to marry you.”  


Huh? Ugh. He was eight times my age at least.

He whispered it again, “You’re so pretty. I’d like to marry you.


I went to find my Grandma and told her what he said.


Wait, what? He said, what, Melodee?! Tell me again.

I repeated it.


She grabbed my hand, glared at him, told me to stay close to her and we left shortly after.


I don’t know why an adult would prey on a child.

I don’t get why (some) men feel an entitlement to a woman’s body.


But I can tell you why I felt like shit over a kiss that lasted 120 seconds, because. . .


Love doesn’t hurt.

Love doesn’t violate.

Love doesn’t force.


And up until that point, I had never experienced anything other than love. So you can imagine my confusion–especially since he was a “Christian”.


Many women (from college students to homemakers and everything in between) have experienced far worse and that makes my heart hurt.


Part of a result of being violated is:






At the root is fear.


Fear of being harmed.

Fear of being judged.

Fear of being unloved.


I don’t know the story or history of your body.

I don’t know if you’ve ever been violated and if any of this resonated.


But if you have— regardless of the severity or longevity—I want you to know from human to human, little girl to little girl, woman to woman, the truth:


It wasn’t your fault.


You didn’t ask for it.

You didn’t deserve it.

You don’t have to be defined by it.


Your story doesn’t end there.

Because you are stronger, and your mission is greater than any act of aggression.


With love & grace,




Some of the most powerful messages come from the most terrifying messes.  I’d love to hear your thoughts on this message in the comments section below.


And if you know someone (a girlfriend, sister, mother, etc) that’s been there and could use a reminder that we’re in this together, please share this blog post with them.


  • Hi K Michelle!

    Thank you so much for taking time to read this blog post, and for sharing your kind words in this thoughtful comment. I am glad that I was able to share a message that resonated with you.

    There is beauty in every story, I’m glad you were encouraged by mine. Your story is valid and shame cannot stay when you share it.

    Have a beautiful day and thank you again for commenting.




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