Teens First Time Stories
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Teens First Time Stories
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People.com Entertainment TV Teen Mom 2 's Leah Messer Reveals She Was 13 the First Time She Had Sex: 'I Didn't Know Anything'
"I want them to know everything and know what happens," Leah Messer said of teaching her 10-year-old twin daughters about sex
By Alexia Fernández September 22, 2020 09:00 PM
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Teen Mom 2 's Leah Messer Reveals She Was 13 the First Time She Had Sex: 'I Didn't Know Anything'
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Leah Messer is opening up about the first time she had sex.
The Teen Mom 2 star revealed how young she was when she started having sexual relations on Tuesday's episode of the MTV show.
"I cannot believe my kids are 10. I was 13 the first time I had sex," Messer, 28, told her friend Kylie. "The girls are 10. Granted, I did not get pregnant until later. I’m saying it’s confusing. I didn’t know anything! I didn’t know anything."
Messer has 10-year-old twin daughters Aliannah and Aleeah from her previous relationship with Corey Simms. She is also mom to daughter Adalynn, 7, whom she shares with ex-husband Jeremy Calvert.
"I want them to know everything and know what happens," Messer said of teaching her daughters about sexual education. "Not just, 'I don't want to be like you, ma.' Okay, but why?"
Kylie said, "But I think your atmosphere growing up was way different than their atmosphere. Yours was obviously not that great, so I don't think that that's something you have to worry about. But you’re right you have to let them know about things. Be honest with them."
Messer replied, "I'm so proud of the girls, even though they’re twins, they have their own identity."
As Messer, her mother and her daughters gathered to celebrate the twins' birthday, the mother of three said, "You guys get to learn from my mistakes, right?"
"You’ve made some big bad mistakes," Aliannah said.
Messer replied, "What do you mean I’ve made some big bad mistakes? Getting pregnant at 17 wasn’t a mistake, it was a challenge."
"I didn't know what the heck I was doing, but I made it work and look at us now," she continued.
When asked by her mother if she was proud of her girls, Messer said, "I am 100 percent proud that they’re my daughters. Happy birthday to both of you guys."
Teen Mom 2 airs Tuesdays (8 p.m. ET) on MTV.
Why Me?! August 23, 2008 By Audrey Fine PUBLISHED: Aug 23, 2008
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There was this one day I had to go to the bathroom, but then a couple of my friends were jump-roping and asked me to join in. Apparently, I was so excited to jump rope that I completely forgot I had to go to the bathroom. While one of my friends was jump roping, she messed up and fell. I started laughing my head off...until I started to feel wet. When it was time to leave, my friend whispered in my ear, "Amanda, not to embarrass you or anything, but you are wet....in the 'bottom' area of your jeans..." At once I felt my face turn into a tomato, I ran to the bathroom to find a huge wet spot on my butt! As embarrassing as that is, I had to go the rest of the day with a big spot on my jeans.
My best friends were spending the night at my house, and we were picking out thongs. Well they dared me to go to the grocery store and wear a lime-green polka dotted thong and wear a shirt with a big rip in the middle. I thought it's 2:00 in the morning, and no one's going to be there (cause there open 24/7). When I went there, guess who was there? My ex-boyfriend, my boyfriend and MY DAD! My dad told me to come here, and then he spanked me. He grounded me for 2 months, and I wanted to kill my friends and plus it was in front of my boyfriend!
My friends and I were having a sleepover, were we were working on our Tech video. Halfway through the video we decided to take a break and play "The Slut Game." It's basically were you act like sluts and get in your bra's and thongs and pretend to have sex. I was in a bed pretending to have sex, my friend was in the closet making noises, and my other friends were just lying on the floor having "sex." But we forgot that the video camera was still filming! The day that the Tech video was due, we turned ours in. All of the videos were going to be showed to the whole class. We knew that our video was good, so we even got some of our friends from different classes to persuade their teachers to spare 10 minutes to watch our video. Halfway through out video, it showed us playing the "Slut Game." Everyone was watching us in our bra's and underwear acting like, well, sluts. We were so embarrassed, and to make it all worse we got an F on the project. My friends and I never played that game again!
One night I invited my boyfriend to spend the night while my parents were out of town. Unfortunately, my older brother was staying home with his friends, so my boyfriend and i decided to take it easy. Well it was about 12:00 am and we went out to the kitchen to get something to eat. Everyone was asleep, so we started making out on the couch then moved to a bed. We started to undress and finally we were totally naked and under the covers. We started to have sex (with a condom), and my brother and his friends took pictures of us doing "it." We quit about an hour later and didn't feel like getting dressed so we stayed naked and continued to touch each other. When we woke up, my brother and his friends pulled off the covers and had taped the pictures around us and to make it worse they started to sing, "Sarah had sex, Sarah had sex!"
In the middle of winter someone started a small fire during my gym class. We stood outside in the wind and the cold in our gym uniforms. Of course, the drill lasted about 20 times longer than usual, because we had to wait for the fire department to declare the "all-clear." Meanwhile, we're freezing our butts off. I was spending time flirting with my crush who's in my gym class. Finally we went inside. In English class, I was complaining to a guy friend of mine about how cold it was, and my crush was supporting me. But my friend said that he wasn't cold. I was annoyed, because he was wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. I yelled, "Yeah, well, at least you were wearing clothes!" A bunch of people turned to look at me. I slapped my hands over my mouth and turned red. My guy friend laughed, "What were you two doing out there?
I could have died.
At my school, there is a strict dress-code policy. We have to wear a belt and have our shirts tucked in. Well, one day, it just so happened that a really cute guy forgot to wear a belt, and I had one in my locker. A pink one to be exact. I handed it to him, and he got through the day without a detention (but he got a few odd stares from teachers). However, he forgot to give it to me at the end of the day. The next day he came to school, escorted by his mom, holding my pink belt in her hand. She threw it at me and said, "I never want you to see my son again!" It was in front of the entire middle school. Apparently, she had found the belt in his room and thought we were sleeping together. Let's just say he never borrowed on of my belts again.
Okay, for Christmas someone bought me some really awesome school supplies, including a binder that I really liked. So, I took it to school and showed all my friends.
In my math class I sit right behind my crush, and the school dork sits right behind me. Well, I loved my binder so much that I was determined to make it fit underneath my chair in the little rack -- not a good idea. I tried to force it into the rack, but it wouldn't fit, so I pushed one more time. Suddenly as I was pushing, I farted. I was so embarrassed. My crush was disgusted, but he didn't know it was me...He looked back at me, and I did the one thing I could think of -- I pointed to the dork behind me. I didn't know what to do! Then the teacher said, "Would someone please keep their internal movements to themselves." I turned beat red, but so did the dork behind me! If my binder doesn't fit now, I just put it on the floor.
My most embarrassing moment involves a needle, a hall of lockers and the stare of my stationary grade seven class. On that day, my classmates were getting their Hepatitis B shots. Before I knew it, I was receiving a shot of my own, and in a matter of seconds it was over. I had survived! Though, it wasn't until I stood up, that I began to question my thoughts of surviving. Suddenly it was if the earth flipped upside down. I had become really dizzy and nauseous. As I headed to the drinking fountain for some water to try and settle my dizziness; my world suddenly went black. I had fainted, and somehow managed to crash into the lockers on the other side of the hall. To my surprise, when I finally came to I saw my teacher, the secretary, the principal, the vice-principal, and other teachers (who had come to see what the loud crash was). My teacher was calling my name over and over, as the rest of the staff just hovered over me. My whole class witnessed it, and as I lay on the ground I heard them talking. Some thought I had amnesia, while others thought I had died. It has been three years since that happened, and people still make fun of me because of what happened that day!
I was at a sleepover and we were playing Truth or Dare. My friends dared me to put my thong on my head for a minute. I didn't think it was as amusing as they did, but they got a good laugh out of it. Apparently I forgot to put my underwear back into my bag. When it was time for us to leave the next morning, we all stuffed into the car with my friend's dad and little brother. All of a sudden her mom comes out of the house screaming "Wait!" In her hand was my bright pink thong. She said she found it half stuffed in the couch cushions. To make matters worse, my friend yells out, "That's Kelly's," and the whole neighborhood was out watching. I was SO embarrassed.
One night, I was sleeping over at my friend's house. Her parents were not home, and her older brother who is really mean was supposed to be watching us. Well, to get back at him, I came up with a brilliant plan. When he was in their living room, we snuck into his room. We started putting baby powder on top of his ceiling fan. Next we put deodorant all over his TV screen. Then we sprayed cologne everywhere (which I later found out his dead grandma had given him. I felt bad about that). Then, we put salt in his milk and stole his cds and video games. Well, when he walked in and turned on the light, the fan came on. Powder went every where. He was so mad about the powder, cologne, salt, and deodorant; he didn't even notice we took his cd and games. (Later, we put them back without him knowing.) I don't think I have to tell you how much trouble we were in after he called his parents and my mom. Yeah, I don't think were going to do something like that to him again.
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By Tara Austen Weaver
•
Aug 6, 2017
The author around the time she was first assaulted.
The Record's Jeannie Yandel speaks with Tara Weaver about her experiences with sexual assault.
By Melissa Spitz
•
Oct 14, 2016
By Beth Roberts
•
Oct 8, 2015
By Dr. Bob Hughes
•
Aug 6, 2017
Editor's note: Tara Weaver posted this essay on her personal Facebook page after the second presidential debate, when Donald Trump said that his talk of sexual assault was merely locker room banter. More than 4,400 people shared this story, and hundreds commented with their own devastating stories in the comments.
The first man who kissed me when I didn’t want him to was the boyfriend of my babysitter. He lifted me up by my armpits, sat me on the kitchen counter, leaned over me and slid his tongue into my mouth. I was eight years old.
I don’t know why he thought he could do this. I wasn’t acting sexy. I was reading Beverly Cleary books and wishing I could be a horse.
Do you think he had been listening to locker room banter?
The second time I was kissed I was twelve or thirteen. My mother’s boyfriend came into my room to say goodnight. He sat on my bed, ran his hand under the covers and put his fingers up inside me. It hurt. He made me hold his penis and rub it. He told me it was “safe” to have sex with him — he’d had a vasectomy and wouldn’t get me pregnant. He laughed.
I went to school the next day, sitting in class like nothing happened. I told my mother only that he had propositioned me, not anything else. It took twenty years and much therapy before I could tell her the full story, before I could admit it even to myself.
This man had known me since I was nine — he had two daughters. How had this happened? Had he started listening to locker room banter?
I pretended I was okay, but I tried to kill myself not long after that. Twice.
When I was fifteen I was date raped at summer camp by a boy I had a crush on. I said, “No.” I said, “Stop.” I tried pushing him away. Did he not hear me?
Perhaps his ears were too full of locker room banter.
The next day I tried to talk to him, to tell him what had happened wasn't okay. He looked at me with a blank face and dead eyes. “What happened?” he asked.
He acknowledged nothing. To him it was nothing. I was nothing.
I feared I was pregnant afterwards. I wept in relief when I wasn’t.
I blamed myself. Maybe I should have protested louder. Maybe I shouldn’t have let him hold my hand. But I thought he wanted to be my boyfriend. I thought wrong.
I ran into that boy at a Christmas party decades later. “Hey,” he said, smiling. “Long time, no see.”
I started wearing my brother’s clothes—baggy sweatshirts and jeans so big I had to roll down the waistband to keep them up. I gained weight. I didn’t drink alcohol in high school; it would have made me feel too vulnerable.
But simply being a woman made me vulnerable. There was nothing I could do to avoid that.
In college I was careful. If a guy showed interest and seemed safe and we started dating, I pretended to get drunk and pass out, just to see what he might do. Would he put a blanket over me and be kind, would he push me aside in disgust or anger at not getting what he wanted, or would he take the opportunity to go up my shirt or down my pants? I needed to know if I could trust him when no one was looking.
I chose well and never had to deal with the latter. Some guys don’t listen to locker room banter.
When I was twenty, I went running on a bike path along a river in the city where I was a student. There was a park and families came to enjoy the sunset in the evenings. Fishermen lined the water. It was a popular place.
That day had been rainy. The clouds cleared by late afternoon, but when I arrived the park was empty. I had never seen it like this.
As I ran, I heard footsteps that got louder — two men, running directly behind me. Turning my head I got a glimpse of them. They were not wearing running clothes.
I sped up, trying to outpace them. They sped up too. They began to grab my ass.
I whirled around to face them but they grabbed at my breasts. I broke off and ran away from them—faster this time, but they kept up. Their legs were longer, they were stronger, and there were two of them. They kept grabbing at me. I kept breaking away and trying to outrun them. I kept failing.
I could kick them in the shins, I thought, I could kick them in the balls. I had been learning how to play rugby; I knew how to tackle.
That was the thought that leapt unbidden to my mind: I wouldn’t want to hurt them.
I had been raised to see men, all people, as human, to be concerned about their welfare, to be a nurturer, to care. I had never listened to locker room banter.
I was also practical: I didn’t want the encounter to turn violent. They were bigger and they were stronger. If I ended up on the ground, I’d have no chance.
I kept pushing their hands away from my body. I wrenched one arm down so strongly I ripped the man’s watch off his wrist and it fell to the ground. He reached down to grab it, cursing.
In that brief pause it occurred to me to scream — the one thing I hadn’t tried. There was no one around to hear me, but I screamed anyway; I made as much noise as I could.
On the subway home, I sat on the hard, plastic seat rocking back and forth. There were four other people in the compartment: two male riders and a man and woman, holding hands. The train compartments did not have doors connecting the cars. I felt sick, panicked that the couple might get off at the next station and leave me in a closed compartment with two men. I no longer knew what they might be capable of.
I didn’t cry until my roommate came home that night. When I saw her, I burst into tears and she thought someone had died. She was not entirely wrong.
The next day I asked the dean of my academic program to go with me to the police station. We spent the afternoon looking at mug shots of known rapists. There were pages and pages of them.
Had they all been listening to
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