Saturday, May 31, 2014

PSA for Men

The night started out so well.  I had an hour-long conversation with a good (male) friend about sex, love and relationships.  It was insightful and we spoke with consideration.  I was feeling pretty good, and then just after midnight I got hit with a cocknado that left me feeling the need to write a PSA.  

Incident #1:  I ran into a guy that I’ve met a few times.  We’ve always gotten on really well, had good conversations, and laughed our asses off when we see each other.  The last time we were in a bar talking, I was flirting with him a little bit, and he suggested we have a fling.  I found the idea intriguing and told him as much; we shook on it, texted  each other with a fun goodnight note later that night, and left it there.  You can imagine my are-you-fucking-kidding-me? face last night when I saw him and gave him a warm hello, and he couldn’t remember my name.  "It starts with an... wait, I know this."  Boner lost.  I wouldn’t tell him; he looked it up on his phone and then tried to hit on me later a few beers in. 

Incident #2  A male friend of mine accidentally spills beer on me; he says, “Oh, let me dry that off for you,” and starts patting my breast, laughing.  Of all the these incidents, this one actually bothered me the least because I know this guy really well.  We’ve been friends for years, and he did it without any sexual implication.  I laughed pretty hard, but I have some female friends who would have been horrified by this. 

Incident #3 Another male friend of mine calls me over to the bar - “Jo,” he says, his words slurring, his eyes glassy.  “I need to talk to you.”  This should be hilarious, I think, and wander over to the bar to talk.  He then proceeds to tell me that he really likes how honest I am about everything, and how open I am about sexuality, and how he really likes me, and then starts saying how I need to meet his girlfriend because she would really like me too, so I just need to talk to her, right?  Because she really likes girls.  THEN he starts telling me how they each made a list of people that “would be good” and I’m at the top of his list.  (Wow!  Congratulations to me!)  He’s hemming and hawing without ever actually saying what he wants to say, so I ask him: “Are you asking me to have a threesome with you and your girlfriend?”  He doesn’t answer me directly, just starts talking again about how his girlfriend is really into girls and I should really talk to her, because he really likes me and I would be perfect.  I then tell him that I think we should carry on this conversation when he’s sober; that I have good advice to give him if he and his girlfriend are looking to open up their relationship or experiment, but that right now we can’t have a real conversation about it because he’s so shit-faced.  “Am I drunk?” he asks.  Yes.  Yes, you are drunk.  I then proceed to tell him that by the way, I have no interest in fucking him and his girlfriend since I know them and see them all the time.  I try not to fuck where I eat.  He looks pretty shocked by this piece of information, so I then say: “You know that in order to have sex with someone, you need their consent, right?  Well, you don’t have mine.”  At this point, his girlfriend comes over and tells him she’s going home.  I tell him he should go home with her and sleep it off, but he stays at the bar while she leaves, obviously upset.  Two things about this scenario blow my mind: One, that this guy seems to have decided all on his own that I was going to sleep with him and his girlfriend and then told his girlfriend this while obliterated, which is the WORST IDEA EVER.  Two, that he presented it to me as though it were a gift.  Like, “We want to have a threesome, and we choose you!”  Like I'm a fucking Pokemon.  Like I’m supposed to be honored because I have the opportunity to fuck him.   

Incident #4:  This guy who I’ve seen at the bar a bunch of times (and who’s hit on me a couple of times, in the midst of hitting on all the other women there) comes over in the middle of a conversation and grabs my arm to look at a tattoo.  He then touches another tattoo on my body and says, “Oh, I really like this.  Where are you from?”  I answer, but I give him a look that says Why-the-fuck-are-you-interrupting-my-conversation? and look back at the person I was talking to.  He asks another question, which I answer curtly, and he gets it; he walks away.  Later on that night, as I’m leaving the bar, he grabs my arm, pulls me over and says, “Hey, do you have Kakao?”  “Nope,” I say.  This is an honest answer.  I don’t.  “Facebook?” he asks.  “Nope,” I say.  “I want to have dinner with you,” he says.  “Can I have your phone number?”  No, I tell him.  He looks confused, so I continue: “You’re a man in a bar who’s hitting on me.  I don’t know you.  So -- no.”  He actually asks me to repeat this, which I do, slowly.  “No offense to you,” I say.  He nods, and I walk away.

Incident #5:  I go into the smoking room to have a cigarette; I ask a friend for one, which he gladly gives me.  The guy next to him says, “You have to show us your tits if you want one.”  I hand the cigarette back and say I don’t need it.  He then says, “I was just kidding.”  “Yeah,” I say.  “Sexual harassment is pretty funny.”  “I was joking,” he insists.  Whatever, dude.  I want to go into a whole rant about how comments like that promote rape culture and hurt men and women alike; how it’s comments like that that serve as a catalyst for a privileged twenty-something kid to say, “Women owe me sex by the very existence of their being and they’re not giving it to me, so I’m going to kill a bunch of them.”  But by that point in the night, I don’t want to talk any more.  I’d be pretty happy not to see a male-identified person for awhile, period. 

A Public Service Announcement from Teachers Have Sex:

1.  Just because I’m putting a P in my V now doesn’t mean that I want to fuck you.  I don’t. 
2.  Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean that you have the right to touch me.  I’m not public property.  In addition, just because I have a tattoo doesn’t give you express permission to touch me.
3.  Just because I’m bisexual doesn’t mean that I want to have threesomes (I mean, I do, but not with you). 
4.  If you’re interested in the idea of having a threesome with your girlfriend and another woman, you need to hash that shit out in several conversations before you start looking for a partner.  Following that, don’t make assumptions that any woman you happen to know is up for it. 
5.  Actually, here’s a general rule of thumb: Don’t make any assumptions.  Period. 

2 comments:

  1. I really enjoyed this piece, and it's timely considering the recent discussions on twitter about sexual harassment and women rights etc. I have to say, though, I am impressed at the way you kept your cool in the midst of all the cocknados wreaking havoc! I wish I could be half as calm and collected as you are!

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  2. Thanks - I was also struck by the fact that this happened in the middle of the Great Online Entitlement Debate. I tried to stay calm because I think it's more useful and productive to have a conversation about our interactions with each other rather than yell at someone that he's being a douche (no matter how much I may want to yell).

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