But He Wasn’t a Good Guy

I actually found this via my Twitter feed: I Didn’t Understand Consent Until My Boyfriend Repeatedly Raped Me. Again, it’s another one of those reads that is extremely difficult, due to the subject matter. But it is worth it. However, one particular sentence hit me and it hit me hard:

Or being pushed and coerced beyond the word no, being told that your limits and comfort zones don’t matter.

Yes, that sounds familiar. This is what I dealt with when I was dating my ex. It happened every single time we were together.

“No” meant “keep asking” to my then SO. If I said I didn’t feel well or I wasn’t in the mood, he’d keep asking, keep needling, keep picking at me until I’d huff out an exasperated, “All right, all right! Just be quick about it!” Then I would grit my teeth and think of something the hell else.

If that is consent, then I have waterfront property in the Gobi Desert I can sell you for two cents an acre.

Seriously, I had zero idea what consent was or how it worked. I was never taught that if I said “No” to the guy I was dating, that was the end of the conversation. Not once did I think that I was coerced into anything sexual. He was just a “horny guy” with “boundary issues”.

“He’s Not a Bad Guy” Doesn’t Absolve Him of His Bad Actions, Tho. And really, if he couldn’t respect what I was telling him, did that really make him such a “good guy”?

It didn’t. Of course, it didn’t. He wasn’t a good guy in the least. It’s taken me a long time to realize that, to truly understand it.

I just wish I had realized this a lot sooner.

About Silverwynde

I'm a Transformers fan, Pokémon player, Brewers fan and all-out general nerd. I rescue abandoned Golett, collect as many Bumblebee decoys and figures as I can find and I've attended every BotCon--official and non--since 1999. I'm also happily married to a fellow Transfan named Prime and we were both owned by a very intelligent half-Siamese cat, who crossed the Rainbow Bridge on June 16, 2018. We still miss him. But we're now the acting staff of a Maine Coon kitty named Lulu, who pretty much rules the house. Not that we're complaining about that.
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