Posted in Worthy Writings

To the Boy, Man, or Something in Between Who Didn’t Get “Lucky” Last Night

I don’t think you understand.

This will probably fall against deaf ears but I’ve got to at least try to convey how defeating, demeaning and disturbing this behavior can be.

I can’t count the times I’ve been told that it’s no big deal or that it’s just a little fun.

At least I tried this time. At least I said this was moving too fast and I wanted to walk it back. Walk it back? I’ve never used that phrase in my life, though in the moment it seemed like the best way to convey my comfort level.

You said you understood. It was cool. No pressure.

Is that what you meant though?

I felt the pressure of your hand on my hand tugging it down your chest and towards your waistline. And when I moved it back to your shoulder I felt you slowly begin the same process.

I used my words, why didn’t you use yours?

I know why. I made it clear that nothing was going to happen. If you asked again, well, that would have been uncalled for and you know it.

If you simply go on suggesting that I satisfy you there’s no harm, right? Wrong. That’s called coercion.

I’d already said NO. You said OKAY as if you understood but you kept pushing me to pleasure you as if I’d NEVER SAID A WORD.

So, now I’m evaluating how dangerous it is for me to continue turning you down. What happens if I keep moving my hand? Will you keep trying to force it to touch you? How can I turn you down again without angering you?

If you don’t stop, can I overpower you? Will you cover my mouth so I can’t scream? If I can scream, will anyone bother to help?

Or should I be quiet and complicit and hope it’s over quickly?

I’d like to think this insight might change your approach for future advances but I know better.

Boys, men, or something in between like you are so hell bent on empty gratification you’re not the least bit concerned with the casualties of your callousness.

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Author:

Storyteller, poet, crazy cat lady, wannabe gamer, intersectional feminist, idea powerhouse, emotional mess, perpetual daydreamer.

One thought on “To the Boy, Man, or Something in Between Who Didn’t Get “Lucky” Last Night

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