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Writer's picturecocodensmore

Why do we women give ourselves away so easily?



February 2, 2018


Last week was a fabulous week. It culminated in the best sex I could ever hope for with the man I love most in the world, Jeff, Mr. Unremarkable. The most Incredible Unremarkable man in the world.


Things went quickly downhill from there. I have basically taken to my bed for days now, a week. Until last night in conversation with Adrian I was finally able to put the pieces together. I finally had a jumping off point for my severe depression. I got it.


I met a man on a dating site. A nice enough fellow, or so it seemed. In law enforcement. So, one would make certain assumptions about men in law enforcement. First, you would think they would be alert to non-verbal cues, since it’s their job to determine if someone is telling the truth. Second, you would think since they are sworn to uphold the law they would give some thought to their behavior. Third, you would assume that while they might be jaded to some degree, dealing with the population they deal with, still they would desire to take the higher path, to do the right thing, to treat people with dignity and respect. None of these behaviors were exhibited by this man.


He was not an attractive man, but you know now that although I am sometimes fortunate to be with an attractive fellow, I do tend to align with the underdog. I perceive myself as an underdog. I’ve always thought of myself as less than attractive, but I am confident I have qualities that are more important than physical attractiveness. However, I am not under any illusions that when I enter a room all eyes turn towards me, unless it’s to check out just how fat the fat lady is. So, I never ever rule a man out based on physical appearance. It’s a steadfast rule I have.


This man made plans to pick me up at Adrian’s. My experiences meeting men, getting in cars with them, so far had been uneventful. Their profiles are on the dating site, along with their pictures, I have their phone numbers, what could they possibly do to me? If for some reason the man didn’t actually match his profile picture, of course I wouldn’t get in the car with him.


We had planned to go for drinks. For some reason, due to a foreboding of some sort, I begged Adrian to go with us. HERE’S A BIG TIP: IF YOU GUT TELLS YOU SOMETHING IS WRONG, YOUR GUT IS RIGHT. I should know better. I didn’t listen to my gut. Adrian didn’t want to go at first, and he waffled, as is his way, and finally he agreed to go. My date wasn’t too thrilled about being with a gay guy, but he mentioned as long as Adrian didn’t make a pass at him all was OK. BIG RED FLAG. Adrian is a 24-year-old Adonis. The last person he’d make a pass at was an overweight bald man in law enforcement. Plus, I knew already the guy was a colossal bore. Or I should say A COLLOSSAL BORE.


Adrian and I got into to his GIANT FORD PICKUP. Have you heard me say “Big Truck Small Penis!” Well, ya, that’s one of my quips. We went to the bar. Instead of asking us what we’d like to eat, he ordered an appetizer plate. He then proceeded to drink four $1 beers. Adrian had one. He said it was shit beer. I had one vodka cran. He dominated the conversation for about half an hour, then he stood indicating it was time to drop Adrian off and start in on the business with the slightly but not totally inebriated Coco. We dropped Adrian off. I kept screaming in my head, “Adrian HELP! Say something! Get this man off of me!” But for some reason Adrian didn’t hear my screams that had no voice.


We drove to my apartment. I took him up to my floor and into my apartment. He immediately undressed and got into bed. I took off my shirt and my bra. We had agreed to a cuddle session, jointly that is what we had agreed to. I had planned to remain topless, have a nice cuddle, a nice friendly “we’re both single let’s swap war stories” chat. That was all I was expecting. That was all he had led me to believe he had in mind. He suggested, “Go ahead and take the rest off." Being open to suggestion, due to what I can only describe as his Svengali effect on me, I stripped naked. He pulled back the covers for me and I slid into bed.


Immediately, he rolled on top of me and was inside me. No foreplay. No touching of any erogenous zones before entry, no kissing, nothing. He was up on his knees asking me “Oooh you like that don’t you! How’s the size of that for you?” I was agreeably responsive because I was afraid he might hurt me. He was thrusting hard. Thankfully he was very small, so I wasn’t in pain. Mostly I was in total shock. How could this be happening? It was completely surreal. Thankfully the entire experience lasted less than ten minutes. I do not think he ejaculated, I couldn’t quite figure out what had happened. All I know is it was fast and furious and I was left to wonder what had actually just transpired.


He got up and got dressed immediately and sat on the end of the bed. I put on my robe and sat across the room from him in my desk chair. He then explained how each of his adopted children were acquired, with a heavy dose of details about his relationship with his ex-wife, with whom it is quite clear he is still enamored. My eyes were heavy lidded, and I just kept saying “Ya…. Ya… Ya…” as if on some level it was important I pretend like I was listening. Why I was so accommodating is a mystery to me. At about midnight he did a time check, said he had to get going, but he wasn’t out the door until 2 am. No kiss goodbye, no hug. Not even a “See ya”. Thankfully, I haven’t heard from him since.


Of all the men I’ve been with this past year, and there have been many, that was the only time I actually feared for my safety. The man was in law enforcement and he carried a gun. I should have felt safe. But instead, I felt violated and fearful. I felt used, a throwaway without a voice. Somehow, I had lost my voice. My voice that I’ve been cultivating since childhood. My woman’s voice that protects my womanhood. The voice that knows how to say NO. It was gone.


I was seriously depressed the week after the incident and couldn’t put my finger on the cause. Since I had had a liaison the following night, which was pleasant, with a lovely young military man who was as polite and gentlemanly as any man I had ever been with, it still didn’t register I was reeling from my experience with Mr. Law Enforcement.


I thought maybe it was because I had been with Jeff Thursday, then Mr. Law Enforcement early the next morning, and somehow that proximity in time had sullied the experience with Jeff. But that’s not the case. Jeff is completely okay with me being with other men, and in fact enjoys hearing me recount my adventures. Neither of us are monogamous.


It wasn’t until a week later, in conversation with Adrian, that I finally put the pieces together. It wouldn’t quite hold muster as date rape, but it would certainly account for rather major case of opportunism at my expense. Actually, it might count as date rape, except I was not hurt, and furthermore, what woman has any credibility when she gets into bed naked with a naked man? What woman has any credibility when she writes a book like this and has slept with 19 men in 13 months?


I was only slightly affected from the alcohol during the incident. I had my wits about me, I knew what I was doing when I took off my clothes and got into bed with him. But even though every fiber in my being said NO, I did it anyway. Why? Why did I put myself in a situation where I knew full well I would be taken advantage of, which I knew full well would harm me in ways it would take days, weeks, and possibly even longer to recover from?


The biggest question is, why do we women give ourselves away so easily? Why do we not value our instincts and instead override what we know to be our truth? That truth about us that many of us have fought our entire lives to create, so we can leave our victim selves behind and come into our fullness as survivors that prevail, persevere, and thrive?


Here is the text I sent him:


I don’t know if you realize, but you lied to me about having sex. You said we wouldn’t have sex and then boom you were right on top of me and inside of me. I asked you if you needed a condom and you said no, that you were “clean”. I don’t know if you realize this but I’ve been with many men in the last year so it would have been extremely prudent to wear a condom. Not to protect me but to protect yourself. That was very very foolish of you. And since I know you’re a fucking liar, how would I know you were “clean”?


You were very dominant and very overpowering and you had told me that you had a gun. I was very afraid of you. I don’t know why you chose to have sex with me because as far as I know you didn’t even ejaculate. The sex act didn’t even last 10 minutes. You were very rough with me and pushed yourself inside of me and asked me if I liked that, and no I did not like that. I was very uncomfortable, but I was afraid you would hurt me so I went along with whatever you said.


And then after this bizarre sex episode concluded, you proceeded to dress and sit on the bed and talk to me about your children for two hours. I don’t know if you realize this, but I have never been married and I have never had children, and I enjoy hearing about people’s children for about 15 or 20 minutes. But since this is not something I have in common with anyone, to drone on about your children for two hours was too much for me. I wanted you to leave. You seemed oblivious to nonverbal cues. As in that I was very tired and I wanted you the fuck out of my apartment and the fuck out of my life.


Red flags should have popped up while we were texting, even on the dating site before we went to phone. You droned on about wanting to get me drunk so we could have sex. The thing is, lots of men do that. It’s fun. It’s playful. It’s harmless. But none of them have ever specifically told me outright they wanted to get me drunk so they could get a fuck out of me. I gave you the benefit of the doubt because I always give men the benefit of the doubt. In this instance, I was wrong. That doesn’t happen often, but I still get fooled sometimes.


I have been horribly depressed for the last week. and in fact I haven’t been able to get out of bed. I haven’t been able to function and to do the things that I normally do. Tonight, I finally put the pieces together and realized how horribly I regret having spent any time with you at all. But even worse, how horribly I regret having lost my voice because of my fear.


I have no intention of taking any action against you, because what transpired between us doesn’t constitute rape. Actually, it does, but as a woman, I haven’t much credibility given the fact I was naked and willingly crawled into bed with a naked man. I was a passive participant. I didn’t have to be, I chose to be.

The sad thing is you overpowered me unnecessarily. Had you been gentle, tender, caring, spent time talking to me, spent time caressing me, spent some time on foreplay (google foreplay you fuckwit), I would have very likely willingly had sex with you. And enjoyed it. Particularly had you skipped the dialogue you obviously picked up from watching too much porn. “Does this big cock feel good to you bitch?” Those are not tender caring words. That’s not how you talk to a woman the first time you are with her. You were extremely opportunistic and predatory. You are a motherfucking asshole.


I could go on and on about what a non-person you made me feel like by treating me the way you did. But I’m going to try to move on now that I understand the dynamic of why I have been rendered impotent for so many days following the incident. I lost my power with you. Actually, I didn’t lose my power, I gave away my power. I lost my voice. I gave away my assertiveness. I gave up my strength. I gave away my right to say NO. And that’s not like me at all. That’s what hurts me the most. I allowed you to turn me into a person that doesn’t exist anymore. And that person was the person who was sexually abused by her father. But because of you and because of your behavior I went back to a role of complete submission. I subjugated my personhood. I didn’t realize at that time, but now I understand what happened. It was self-protection. You took my dignity. And it was very ugly, and very unfortunate, and I hope I never meet another man like you. But if I do, I won’t lose my voice. I will stand up for myself and I will tell you to get the fuck off of me and get the fuck out of my apartment and get the fuck out of my life. You are the most despicable kind of man in existence. You prey upon women. You repulse me.


And if anything like that every happens again, I would prefer you take out your gun and shoot me dead. I prefer death to having sex with you. And I most certainly prefer death to listening to you drone on about your children for two hours. That was the biggest insult of all. I don’t give a fuck about you, your wife, or your kids. Why I chose to politely listen remains a mystery me. You are a colossal bore. And that’s right up there with your ungentlemanly rudely opportunistic predatory sex grab. You are a fuck all the way around. May God give you what you rightly deserve. And He will. His justice is perfect.


Photo by Shane on Unsplash

 

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