Disclaimer: This post contains issues
relating to sexual assault. If you feel that you will be triggered by this
post, please close the page.
THE NEGOTIATED KINKY
DINNER DATE
I was
sitting at the table in the restaurant. My date has gone to the bathroom for
the third time that evening. We had agreed together that there would be themes
of D/S that we could explore. It was also agreed that dinner would be paid for
by him and we would see how things felt when we were together.
I sat alone,
eating my meal, waiting for him to return. Something inside me didn’t feel
right. I told myself that the fear causing my tribal beating heart was nerves
or stress since it was my first date with a man in a long while. In truth it
was a red flag and several of them caught my attention. Many times I had the
urge to pay for my own meal, and head home. Being the forgiving person that I
am even after experiencing many abusive connections before, I thought it down
and told myself it was anxiety at a new experience and I gave this person the
benefit of the doubt. I ignored my intuition.
The voice continued to grow, steeped in warnings.
He was a nerdy guy, a studying teacher; he was someone I wanted to like. He could
hold a conversation. Looked decent, and wasn’t overtly creepy. I just knew I
didn’t like him sexually. I thought we could salvage a friendship, I was
fascinated in his life and his choice to teach so he came back, sat down and
asked me multiple times if I was done eating, because he was and he was ready
to go. The voice was screaming yes, let’s go. Only for other reasons, my
survival skills were kicking in. I was getting ready to obey to save face.
He paid for
the bill, and we left to go to my house. I asked him to come over, I made a
choice and I decided that if we were in a different environment maybe he would
loosen up a bit and we could sit still long enough to enjoy a conversation.
ENTER THE BEDROOM
“Consenting to being in your room doesn't
constitute consent to any of these things. You can only know if someone
consents to something by asking if
they want to do that thing.”
Ten minutes
later we were in my bedroom. I asked him if he wanted to just lie down and chat
for a while, and he agreed. I lay down and he attempted to hold me. I thought
we could sit up and chat about what had brought us together. He continued to
move around me, kissing me, touching me, even though I told him to stop. He did
after a while and I got of the bed. I took a breather and told him that I would
be happy to watch him pleasure himself, but that I was not interested in being
sexual with him at all. He said he was fine with that, and I lay back down on
my bed. He didn’t listen, he got handsy, told me everything was fine. He towered
over me and positioned himself so that he was on top and began to grope me.
I lay there,
not speaking, disassociating from my body. My body began to feel again after a
few minutes and I asked him to stop,
then again, then again and then finally when I said NO REALLY STOP. He stopped. He gave me this look, and for the first
time I face him head on and saw that his eyes were glossy, and he was panting.
He looked out of it. More than that, he looked dangerous.
Alarm bells
sounded. I turned over and pressed my face into the pillow as my breathing
became laboured. When he tried to come near me I told him i was having a panic attack
and that it wasn’t a good idea for him to come closer, to move, to give me some
breathing room. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer, rubbed
himself against me. Telling me I was OKAY.
I should have told him to leave. I should have
yelled out to my housemate. I should have called the police. I was scared. I
had asked him to stop and he hadn’t. That only meant one thing. He was choosing
not to listen and from experience I knew that when someone doesn’t want to
listen there is rarely a chance to get them to stop and do so. Instead I lay there as he finished himself
off, put his clothes on then left. I couldn’t move, didn’t want to. I thought
if he got off and left then it would be over and I wanted it to be over.
Sadly, this wasn’t
the first time I have experienced sexual assault, and yet it didn’t even
register what was happening to me. It’s like someone took my choice, and voice
cord out of my body and it was running out of battery the further he pushed my
no buttons.
What made me continue onwards when I
knew that I was being assaulted? Why did my mind separate from my body? Why did
I give in when inside the voice was screaming for me to stop? Why did I remain
silent?
“Many sexual assault victims don't say anything during their assault because they're in shock or don't want to further provoke their perpetrators or don't feel like they have a choice.”
THE AFTERMATHS –
A.K.A MY EYES OPENED AND I REALISED I’D BEEN
When he left
the house my housemate alert to my worry came in to see how I was feeling. I
had the tears, they were streaming, and the words were there in my throat. I
tried to find them. I let them roll around in my mind. Rape – Abuse – Control – Dehumanized – Objectified
– Non-Consent they wouldn’t come
out.
Later I would come to justify it by reminding myself
that I had engaged in kinky dynamics. That he was a submissive and I had
controlled some aspects of our play as negotiated; Negotiated being the operative and pivotal word. What we had
discussed, what I would do had largely been negotiated. He had asked me
numerous times to employ the kinky techniques we had discussed. I consented to
that because I knew he enjoyed it, he had asked specifically for it, and after
talking about it he had agreed to them. I
did not agree to being touched. I did not agree to being abused. I did not
agree to being disrespected and yet it took me a few more days of thinking,
and reading and journaling to realise my reaction to the sexual assault. I could dress it up anyway I wanted to deny
it. That is how powerful the mind is. The reality was I had been sexually assaulted;
again.
It had happened and my reaction needed to be
understood, not suppressed. The fact that I have experienced it so many times
in my life, sexual and non-sexual abuse was a red warning flag that something
was not right in my shadow lands. I treated it as common. I brushed it off and
let him walk free. I let whatever secrets I told him or the fact that I engaged
in kink be the thing he ‘had over me’ even though he has nothing over me.
Why did I do that, and where did I go in my
mind to find that acceptable?
When I
confronted him, he felt he had done nothing wrong.
I wanted to call the police, or talk to
someone about it. I want someone to call him out on his assault and get him to
admit he needs to take responsibility and I would feel justified and happy, but
I don’t imagine it would make a difference, because just like his conversation,
his tell tale comment throughout the night “everything’s fine” “ don’t
worry about it” I don’t feel in this instance it would change a damn thing.
Which is sad, and it makes me wonder where
does that leave me?
It leaves me
aware. I never knew that it ran this deep. How I disconnected and held this
belief that I was weaker, lesser than a man/woman who felt they could abuse me,
using their control and false entitlement to gain what they needed sexually and
emotionally.
I always
step into the world with strength, and assertiveness and yet time and time
again when confronted with the same energy I have fed this horrid community of
men who think it is okay to degrade, and abuse women/men. I realised that
although IT WAS NOT MY FAULT, it is
my responsibility now to decide what I am feeding, and what container I am
living inside that would allow this to occur.
It is time
that I confront the shadows of Abuse. Both the abusive tendencies that I may
hold in myself and those inflicted upon me by the experiences that I have had. It is time for me to have a voice, stand
strong and learn to be proud of myself as a woman, to speak up for my rights,
to say no with the safety that it will be respected and to not feed, nor tolerate
rape culture.
Some may
think that I let him get away with it.That I am weak for not going to the
police or for wanting to let it be, heal, and recover from it. I thank you for your
witnessing. I thank you for being here to share with this post. I thank you for
hearing my voice, because even though I chose not to report, I am reporting
now. I am giving myself a voice. I am speaking to all the women who have been
abused. I am not hiding. I am not suppressing this. It is real and it did
happen and I am not letting it happen again.
SPEAK UP – GIVE YOURSELF A VOICE – CONSENT IS YOUR RIGHT
If you feel
like you have been abused speak to someone. Write to someone. Give yourself a voice. Even if it is
painful, don’t lock it away. Don’t justify what has happened no matter what
situation brought you to it. If you do
nothing else, open your mouth and share your experience. Be part of the change,
the shift. I know it will feel like someone is ripping you into shreds – face that
shadow. Face what choices you made and know that sexual assault is not a choice
that you made.
QUOTES IN THIS POST WHERE REFFERENCED
FROM THIS FANTASTIC BLOG POST I FOUND ABOUT CONSENT
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