For the life of me I cannot remember the last time I fucked someone and really really wanted it.

Strange how a guy can simply say he’s not interested in someone and that’s that. For women that’s rarely the case. A man’s rejection of my no is more normalized than his acceptance of it. Read that again: a man’s rejection of my no is more normalized than his acceptance of it. My no does not always stand in this society. It is gently massaged into a non-no which can be deadly.

The last 2 guys I slept with were men I had no interest in initially. It actually bothered me that they wanted me. And it annoyed me how persistent they were, but I didn’t want to be rude. So I listened and eventually appeased. Little by little they shed pieces of my denial. First they gained access to my space by finding ways to be where I was. Then it was access to my time. Reasons to talk. A friendly invitation. One by one, all these things are innocent, but together they have a powerful effect.

It’s rarely noticeable while it happens unless you’re trained to look. These things are the steps to coerce a specific response, softly softly. Killing the no inside of me. It’s not strange to women but it’s foreign to men. How you can know for sure you have no attraction to someone yet still end up with them.

We are not conditioned to run from such savagery. We don’t know we need to bark because so often this is the story presented to us in society. Pop culture is littered with it. The man who would not relent and eventually she gave in and now they’re together. My recent ex once told me that the first time we kissed I made a face. I always argued “no I didn’t! I wanted to kiss you.” But did I? After our first date I decided not to let him walk me to my car. I didn’t want him to attempt to kiss me. Several months later we had a second date and I let him. I can’t remember making a face. But I wonder how he could still go through with it if he felt I didn’t want to.

The thought gave me an off-putting feeling. Why would he kiss me if I looked uncomfortable with it? Why seek to take what didn’t come alive with glee at the thought of being taken?

For the life of me I cannot remember the last time I fucked someone and really really wanted it. Now here I stand in this uncomfortable truth acknowledging my patterns. I’m appalled, ashamed, but most of all I’m thankful. Now I know what behavior to bark at. I know for sure the next person to kiss me, the next person to peel off my clothes will be someone I say hell yes to.