And then there was Fuck:
I write this in the knowledge that some will find it too graphic or sad but I feel it’s important that one shares the good and the bad. Here’s to more good in 2014 #fabulosity
So this dude and I met on twitter and kicked it a couple it times. He’s smart but young, adventurous and ambitious. I like those traits in individuals. I don’t think I was looking to turn it into anything more but my birthday crept up on me and on the night I decided to drink my own body weight in Prosecco. Yes the recession has hit us all so hard. I called him and he came to meet me at the club.
We had such drunken sex on my birthday that I couldn’t remember it. I asked for a do over. I needed to know what I had missed. I don’t think it could have been bad because my body remembers bad.
The next time we had sex there was an altercation. He would describe it as being lost in the moment whilst I prefer to use the term assault. The key issues with sex is that it can be consensual until one person says enough. I think the word I used was OUCH? You can’t get clearer than that. I was in pain. His words were, “You better bend over and take it.”
Now here’s the thing. I hate fighting. I’m not strong and I just didn’t have the energy at this point. It was done. It ca
n’t be undone. I promptly got on with my life although whether we like it or not these incidents stay with us. Weeks later I wrote a series on Rough Sex which he read. He asked me if it was about him and I told him, DUH! I had spent the next day bleeding and he thought it would be fun to try out some late 80s porn movie shite? He told me that he hadn’t heard me tell him to stop? Oh really? You couldn’t tell from my Ouch and the scramble to safety that everything wasn’t ok? I couldn’t be arsed with arguing with someone who clearly wasn’t going to take responsibility.
I declared myself celibate and gave up on recreational sex. It was harder than giving up any drink or drug (except Twix) but I had to do it. My body and heart were tired! 18.5 months later I get a direct mail on Twitter.
His messages:
Hi, just wanted to get in touch and apologise for my, what’s the word? Let’s just say for being an utter prick to you is it two years ago? I’ve had quite a bit of growing to do and throughout that I’ve thought about many people or women I may have wronged and just wanted to reach out and let you know that I am sorry for the many wrongs I may have committed against you. I hope you are well. Fuck
So here’s the thing. I know that it was 18.5 months ago. The date is imprinted on my brain. He reckons it was about 2 years ago. It’s taken him this long to grow up and apologise. Yes I appreciate the sentiment but why do they feel the need to come back and apologise at all? Is it to salve themselves of any guilt and move on with their lives carefree? And how was it “may have wronged?”
I wish that men could know the damage they do whenever hey…”act like a prick” because eventually the toll is too much for all of us to take.
And then I got angry: How dare he blame it on being young and immature? He had someone robbed me of my ability to trust anyone with a penis.
And then I got angry with myself: How had I let this and every other guy make me feel so shitty that I stopped one of my favourite past times!
And then I got over it. Because 18.5 months is a long time to hold onto anger and I just want to enjoy my life again. People often think that rape or assault on those that enjoy sex or put themselves out there is somewhat deserving. What was she wearing? Was she drunk? Did she flirt with him or lead him on? But like the song Blurred lines, the key is about capacity and consent. I had the capacity to say no. I dread to think what happene
d the first time when I was drunk.
I won’t say that this event has defined me as that gives Fuck waaaay too much power and control over my life. But did it grab a bit of the glitter. I would say so. So, although he’s apologised and all of the others have apologised I don’t accept it. I want men to stop behaving badly then we wouldn’t be having these sorts of conversations.
Here’s to no more badly behaved sex. Smooches
© Chelsea Black
