A couple years ago, I was in a fight with a man who had raped me three weeks earlier. He told me to take an Ativan. “We’ll deal with this later,” he says, like I am his petulant child, “Take one of your pills and try to calm down.”
Take your bottle baby, and go take a nap. Maybe you’re wet. Or maybe you’re hungry.
Infantilize me, baby. Put me in my crib. Tuck me in. Tell me i’m not going to feel this way in an hour.
“Normally I wouldn’t even deal with this now. I’m working.”
So many men I’ve dated or slept with have made it very clear that my humanity is an inconvenience. They raped. They abused. They manipulated. And now the blowback is their cross to bear, and they are unhappy about it. I never get the timing right.
Don’t give me your anger or sadness or vulnerability now, you dumb cunt! I’m working! I’m about to get a tattoo! I’m going to the gym! I’m about to go on a date with someone else and I want to forget that I am capable of causing another person unending pain!
Instead, I should be a hole that you fuck. I should be the beautiful immortal creature on your arm, a stupid grin on my face and a beer in my hand, ready to go wherever you drag me. I should be okay with you leaving for hours, days, weeks. I should smile lovingly, manically when you whisper into someone else’s ear, but make hard eye contact with me across the bar. I am your blush covered clown. I am your entertainment.
Do drugs! Great! Destroy me, and then yourself! Hot! Take me with you when you buy heroin instead of buying me dinner! I’m adventurous! I’m cool! I’m sexy! Fuck me!
I recently re-read an article that rapists have a hard time understanding they’re rapists. You’re a good guy! It’s ok, baby. You didn’t mean it. It happened because she pissed you off so much! It happened because you drank too much Ketel One at your boy’s house. It happened because she couldn’t get over the fact that you didn’t want to fuck her anymore! It happened because she started some shit with you. How dare she call you out like that, in front of everyone!
It’s not surprising no one believes rape or abuse victims when they come forward. The rapists and abusers don’t even believe it themselves.
I know how to behave now. I know how to protect myself. I am safe now.
I save your ego by diminishing mine. I bite my tongue so hard it bleeds. There’s blood in my mouth. It is running down my chin. I’m full. I’m angry. Then, I remember.
It’s sexier to swallow than to spit.