More Than a Pedo
A Female Pedophile's Story

Hello, I'm Alice. Well, not really, but if I told you who I actually was I'd probably get death threats or something, so let's just go with that. As you might have guessed, I'm a pedophile. How'd I get here?

My life has been uneventful, to put it simply. I was raised in a middle-class household with all my needs met. No big childhood trauma, no sob stories. I seemingly have no "risk factors" for turning out this way. I was a normal, outgoing child until around puberty, when my self-esteem decided to take a hike and I became the socially awkward quiet one. Nothing out of the ordinary there. But there was one thing that set me apart from the rest of my friends. Namely, boys.

I wasn't allowed (or at least was not encouraged) to date until I was 18. It was a rule that I was actually pretty happy about. Boys seemed like trouble, so that was fine by me. While all my friends were giggling about a new guy every other week, I just sat back and rolled my eyes at the weirdos I was hanging out with.

What I didn't understand was that I was the weirdo. This realization hit me when I turned 18, and my parents gave me the whole "okay, you're allowed to date now; so hurry up and get married" spiel. Apparently, regardless of whether you're allowed to date, being attracted to guys is a completely normal thing for a teen. I thought once I turned 18 I would magically become attracted to them. Nope. Gross. "Perhaps I'm a closet gay?" I wondered. I thought about it for a bit. Nope, gross.

So I came to terms with the fact that I'd probably just be single. No biggy, I've got a personal bubble the size of France anyways.

Around the age of 20, things started to change. Subtly, at first. A young boy would smile at me on the bus, or a kid would say something cute at the grocery store, and it would make my day. Completely normal, considering the raging "I want a baby" hormones that come with young adulthood. Or so I told myself. They also had this pure innocence and joy that I missed from back before I became the embodiment of cynicism and depression, and it drew me to them. But slowly, I started becoming fascinated with their appearances as well. Some children were astonishingly beautiful. I had never experienced something like that before. "Haha, I'm such a pedo," I would joke with myself. Because obviously it had to be a joke. I wasn't one of "those creeps."

I wasn't hurting anyone, so the thought that I might be a real pedo didn't cross my mind. "I'm attracted to kids, but it's not like that" or something. I don't know what kind of distinction I was trying to make there. But my peaceful internal problem got blown out of proportion one day: Someone in my family pulled a uno +4 on me and announced that they were pregnant.

I hoped it wasn't a boy.

It was a boy.

What if my family finds out 10 years from now? They'll wonder if I did something in the past. What if I'm not as strong as I think I am? Who can I turn to for help?

I broke down one night and told a close friend. Her response saved me in so many ways. "I've known you a long time, Alice. I know you'd never hurt anyone, and if I ever have kids, I trust you with them." I had expected her to defend me. To say "you're not like that, don't worry." But she opened my eyes to a new possibility: You are like that, and it's okay.

Since then, I've told my family and some other close friends. All of them have trusted me (though some don't believe me, since I'm not their image of what a pedo is supposed to be.) The parents of the child don't mind, and I have a "get out of diaper duty free" card. Awesome. All in all, I've been pretty lucky.

The important thing that I've learned through all of this is that my sexuality isn't that big of a deal. I'm a pedophile. I'm not proud of it. I'm not ashamed of it either. It's just a fact. It doesn't define me, because I'm so much more than that.