It felt like any other Saturday night. I was going home from The District with a few of my friends after we spent the night out celebrating a friend’s 21st birthday. I was in a happy, giddy mood, but at the same time I felt tired and was longing for my bed.
To pass the time on the bus ride home, I was texting various friends who were still awake. One conversation in particular stuck me as inappropriate and led me to cry shortly after I got home.
I was texting a guy friend of mine who I’ve known for a few months now. Though we attend different colleges, we would talk semi regularly, having personal conversations about our lives, and the world we live in. I had assumed he understood where the rules and lines lied with our conversations, but after this night, I realized I was wrong.
We were having a typical conversation about how we were doing and what we spent our nights doing until the conversation took a stark turn.
Out of nowhere, he says, “God, I just really want to fuck you.” I was shocked and replied with, “Well that came out of nowhere.” Once he realized the feeling wasn’t mutual, he was geuinely surprised and to me, that felt like a slap in the face. He was confused and thought my talking to him, Snapchatting him, and being present in his life meant I wanted to engage in sex with him. I explained to him that we were friends and if I wanted to have sex with him, I would have no problem with telling him so. Rather than considering my feelings and where he fell short, he attempted to gaslight me by trying to make me feel bad for him. It was as if I was out of my mind to be surprised he thought I wanted to have sex with him as I had given him all the “signs” that led him to think that.
Though this struck a nerve, this wasn’t the first time a man was under the impression he would eventually have sex with me or that I owed him sex. It’s sad, but I’ve grown used to being treated quite promiscuous by most men for the simple fact that I have large breasts. I’ve had men who I thought were my role models tell me I should consider covering up when I go out to the bars.
I eventually realized it didn’t matter what I said or how I tried to explain how I felt, for that moment, all I was to him was a sexual object. I cried and wondered why I didn’t deserve respect.
Regardless of how many times this happens to me, it still hurts all the same. No matter how low cut my shirt is, how nice I am to you, or how many partners I’ve had in the past, you don’t get to assume I want to have sex with you.
I am a sexually liberated woman and I have no problem letting others know. I enjoy talking about sex, I’ve had my share of partners and experiences, but that doesn’t make it okay for some of the men who know me and talk to me assume sex with me is a go.
My body is my body. My breasts, my hips, my thighs, they’re all mine and no one else’s. I give consent to my body. A yes is a yes and a no is a no. More importantly, a no isn’t a game or a test to see if you can turn my no into a yes.
So with that, I end, no, I don’t want to go home with you, no, I don’t want you to buy me a drink, no, I don’t want to have sex with you, and most of all, my body doesn’t belong to you.