-Trigger Warning- and Let's Start Writing Reality Checks

----updated----
I just realized the original title looked like I have a problem with trigger warnings which I do not. Sorry I'm so dimwitted.

!!! Trigger Warning!!!

!!! Trigger Warning!!!

#Also, long-as-fuck warning. Bear with me, please.#

As of the late, I have been using the common approach of sticking my head in the sand. The world is too big and too bad. To avoid crying in a dark corner even more than I normally do, I have checked out almost completely. I've gotten rid of all social media and have pretty much banned my best friend from talking about anything more pressing than spaghetti sauce. I know it's cowardly, but hey. What can I say. There are worse things I could be, at this point.

I've gone back and forth about writing this, but now is the time. There will never be a good time. Let's talk about the taboo subject of rape. I've decided that as a survivor I should not feel ashamed because I didn't do the wrong thing and I shouldn't be ashamed to say I was raped. Not that I'm all, "I was raped and I'm proud" or anything, but I refuse to fall for this bullshit Jedi mind trick of shaming and dismissing the victim and pish poshing the actions of the doer as harmless or whatever.

So, one of my absolute favorite comedians is caught up in the sexual harassment and rape incidents plaguing powerful men as of the late. Louis C. Fucking K. I didn't even get rid of him for saying nigger, he was that good. BUT. No more. For awhile, I watched his 2017 stand-up program every night before bed. Now just seeing his fucking face disgusts me. Ugh. Why, God, why? Not that his betrayal is more important than any others.

Since I've been enlightened to some dudes rape tendencies, I have starting polling guys just to see what their mentality is concerning consent. What I've gathered is that they would rather rape and not satisfy their partner, than to ask permission when they want to engage in sexual activities. You want to know what they use as an indicator to have sex with women? Signs . Mainly, what a woman's eyes tell them. A. Woman's. Fucking. Eyes. 

This is utter bullshit. For one, it seems that EVERY sign that they think they are able to decipher says, "give me the dick by any means necessary" like a social activist fighting for our rights. Two, when you're around someone you're having a good time with, your eyes will twinkle with merriment; that does not a ready and willing sexual partner necessarily make. 

No one ever wants to believe me when I say that I ask for sex, usually explicitly saying "can we have sex?" Or some variation. And you know what? Sometimes I've been told no. At that point I don't fondle them trying to change their mind. If they change their mind, then they can let me know.

Of course, couples can have indicators between them, but can we make sure all parties know the indicator? I assure the guys I've polled that my asking has never kept a guy from getting an erection and if it ever does, well, I dodged a raping ass bullet, didn't I? I don't know what makes "the mood" more important than agreement, but the fucking buck stops here. Okay? I believe men are illiterate when it comes to signs or what the fuck ever. Plus, they will blatantly ignore all signs, words, and acts contrary to the conclusion they've drawn! What about then?

If I hear another rapist say that talking ruins the mood or spontaneity or whatever other bullshit excuse they come up with, I might have to go to jail. For real. How about if your partner likes aggressive initiation you guys discuss it FIRST. Instead of assuming all women want them to whip out their penis ready to spread all of their ugly and their disease, okay? I don't want the unsolicited ugly nor the disease.

My thoughts surrounding not writing about this is because I've read and heard these stories over and over again. But. Maybe one of these situations will let someone know that what you accepted as "that's just how they act sometimes" is actually disrespectful, frightening, traumatic, and a fucking crime. Even if they try to tell you are making a mountain out of a mole hill; you are not. Even IF that were the situation, a mole hill is still a fucking thing and you shouldn't have your feelings discounted to keep rape culture on trend.

Anyway, on to what I want to discuss: how rape, sexual assault, and sexual harassment are waayyyy more common than some people really think. I'm going to provide some examples from my own life and one from a friend's life. I was hesitant to do this because it's a tale as old as time, honestly. Love, rape, murder, mercy, and everything in between have been around for the same amount of time. 

While I was looking for the pic, I came across these gems...

 "They sat in groups to brainstorm ways to ask for affirmative consent. They crossed off a list of options: ‘Can I touch you there?’ Too clinical. ‘Do you want to do this?’ Too tentative. ‘Do you like that?’ Not direct enough.

“‘They’re all really awkward and bizarre,’ one girl said.” ."

If awkward and bizarre is a problem, then you're in for a rude awakening with the unsolicited and non-consensual sex you're getting/giving because that's all it is; that's all human bodies are, honestly.

"The ‘no means no’ mantra of a generation ago is quickly being eclipsed by ‘yes mean yes’ as more young people all over the country are told that they must have explicit permission from the object of their desire before they engage in any touching, kissing, or other sexual activity. With Gov. Jerry Brown’s signature on a bill this month, California became the first state to require that all high school health education classes give lessons on affirmative consent, which includes explaining that someone who is drunk or asleep cannot grant consent.”

But California’s law does heavily intrude into people’s private lives, and create a climate of fear, as some of its most outspoken supporters readily acknowledge."

There is already a climate of fear, yes? Women wandering around in groups to avoid being caught alone. Plus, having to wear full length coats lest they excite male passersby. We must be properly attired if they want to be taken seriously on the off chance they are accosted. Of course,  they can only venture out in the daytime because anything can happen at night and if anything does happen it's her fault for being out after the street lamps come on, right?

Also, since when does anyone care about privacy. Ask all the tabloid reporters, hiding in the trees taking pics of celebrities on far away beaches, how many people mind their own business and their business alone. Or the masses of people who think their favorite singer owes them answers because that's what they owe their fans; that's the price of stardom, not just whatever talents they displayed.

"a great deal of harmless touching could well be deemed a crime"

Harmless touching, eh? How does one define "harmless"? Grabbing 'em by the pussy, perchance? If one does not their person to be touched one should have that right, no?

I got these quotes from an article written by this lovely fellow. 

Hans Bader practices law in Washington, D.C. After studying economics and history at the University of Virginia and law at Harvard, he practiced civil-rights, international-trade, and constitutional law. Hans also writes for CNS News and has appeared on C-SPAN’s “Washington Journal.”

Incident I

When I was a skinny, mostly flat chested freshman in high school, I was friends with a few cute guys. One of whom was, apparently, dared to grab my butt. So, he came over to me and asked for a hug. Of course, I obliged. I actually like(d) hugging.(I have since learned not to hug men for real.) When I wrapped my arms around him and he, me, he squeezed me up like a bear trap. Using that crushing embrace he gripped my ass, tightly. So tight, in fact, I had to push him, rather violently, away. I watched him walk back to his friend, confused, because we were friends. What the fuck was he doing?! When he got to his smirking friend, the friend started whispering furiously, and that's when I kind of guessed what had transpired. I don't think I ever hugged him again.

Incident II

Fast forward to my junior year of high school. There was a guy that all the girls knew was a fucking pervert. Actually, most of the guys were perverts and it was a large school. Plenty of blind spots for authorities to miss. So, we got 3 minutes between classes which was not really enough time for anything. The school was 4 levels with 4 large wings to it. Normally, I never took the back steps because that's where you might find yourself stumbling upon, what I assumed,  were couples at the time, but may have actually been criminal acts. Anyway, it was early, early so I chanced it. I was coming from the bottom most floor going to the topmost floor and didn't want to walk to the central stairs when both classes were in the same wing. I'm trudging up the stairs with my sack of concrete on my back when I look up and see HIM. The biggest assailant that I knew of. I can't remember our initial interaction, but I remember this one vividly. I was going up and he was coming down. He crossed over to where I was shuffling, head down, up the stairs. When I glanced up I saw him smiling and trying to keep walking. Before I could get past him, he reached down into the neck of my shirt and grabbed my, by then watermelon sized, breast. I was so mad that I knocked his arm away so fast and hard that his watch drug across my cheek causing a welt damn near from lip to ear. Afterward, I didn't tell. My reason? I didn't have time. I needed to get to class. This is the type of shit we're taught is more important than our safety and well-being.
I remember trying to disappear in a corner because he was in the class visiting with his friends (that should tell you something right there) to be consoled because he had just come from the principal's office. He indignantly reported that some girl said he sexually harassed them. My head snapped up.  Sir, that's you modus operandi. Why are you acting so surprised? He didn't mend his evil ways, I do know that.
I actually just saw him the other day at an event. I rushed by with no eye contact.

Incident III

Next, let's discuss Dwayne Wade. (This is my nickname for him) I actually liked him. At this point, I was so disgusted with men that I had vowed not to have sex with nan other unless he was firmly and securely my boyfriend.  Anyway, so he calls and says he's coming to visit. Fine by me. He says he just came from bowling and was in the area. I'm a little hurt that he didn't invite me (had never actually invited me anywhere), but whatevs. We sit down to watch a movie and he lays his head in my lap. I was rubbing his hair and face while he fell asleep. I actually had a good time. Probably because a sleeping male can't sexually harass me.
Then, he woke up and sat up. I just keep watching the movie. I glanced up for no reason that I can remember and he's putting a condom on. My brain looked like this: !!!!!!!!! What on earth is going on? At this point, he hooks me behind the knees and pull me towards him. I'm wearing slippery ass basketball shorts that he rips off along with my underwear faster than one could say New York minute. I look at him and say, "what are you doing? I'm not even ready!" He then proceeds to reach INTO my vagina and say "it is wet." Um, sir, that's how they naturally come out the store box. Also, why did he offer a rebuttal? Wouldn't I know better than he???
I scrambled to the end of the couch and shouted his name. He pulled me back over and tried to make me sit on his penis. I used every muscle in my thighs, the force of Thor's Hammer, and my ENTIRE soul not to do it. I finally sprung away and ran into the corner. ( I have no idea why I ran into a corner. I guess I was just trying to get away.) I just kept shouting his name over and over. (No idea why I did that either) My brain was not working. I was not thinking. Can't think. Just know I don't want to have sex. We have never even KISSED for Pete's sake! He gets irritated and ask why I keep saying his name over and over. I tell him because I want him to stop. He says something about having sex and I asked, incredulously "so you're just going to take it from me?!" That question did not deter him. He asks why and I told him I'm not having sex again unless I have a boyfriend I'm in love with. He mumbles, "boyfriend" to himself. He still would not give up his efforts. He ended up doing something that I don't want to say, actually. Now that I've written this and relived it, I really don't want to discuss what happened after this. Just know that it was not something I wanted.

IV

Next up, a guy I had actually had sex with, once and never again, some time prior, asked to visit. We had both just left the club, so I should have known better, but I was in a good mood, a visiting mood. I'm not one of those, "the nighttime is only for 7 Eleven and open legs." There is nothing I do at night that I can't and won't do in the daytime. Probably because I don't need the cover of darkness to hide my crimes.  (I have since revised this policy) He came over and we hugged, then sat down to watch a movie. I was watching the movie and he was plotting, apparently. He said, "I haven't seen you in so long. Give another hug." Obviously, I had long forgotten my no hugging policy. I was happy so I agreed. Except when he got me where he wanted me he held on tight, tight, tight, and unhooked my bra, THROUGH my shirt. I turned away fast, thinking. Finally, I leapt up and said, "well, I'm going to lock the door after you leave so I can go to sleep." I was STILL, after all that time and all the run-up I'd had up till that point, being semi-polite! I rushed to the door and flung it open. When he got to the door he grabbed me in a hug and pushed me into the spider web-y corner behind the door that had traitorously closed upon the man-handling of my person. I started to sweat because I was scared and angry. I tried to push him away. I told him that he was disgusting and that he was annoying me. He told me he's not disgusting and that he's NOT annoying me! (Again, with the rebuttals) I finally broke free, opened the door and shouted, "Byyyeeee!" 

In each of these instances, these boys had to know that whatever they WANTED to do, wasn't something I would readily agree to so they just decided to forgive themselves later instead of asking permission.

After these incidents, I came up with a whole hell of a LOT of rules about my interactions with men. No hugging, no kissing, no sitting, no home visits. 

Honestly, just telling these stories has fatigued me. Maybe I'll tell the rest later. There were some sly ones who tried it AFTER initial consent. One stolen yes doesn't void out any future no even if the no comes minutes after yes.
Changing our minds is our right. They should check the divorce stats if they don't believe there's no such thing as take backsies.