trouble | I don't drink in public

This post discusses attempted rape.

In my first year of university I started dating a man who was a few years older than me, with really startling brown eyes and a history of playing D&D. I, too, had a history of playing D&D, and I really really liked him, and spending time with him. I was, however, coming off of "that thing that happened in high school", so I was really really not ready for sex. Which I told him. I made this as clear as one possibly could make clear, by saying "I'm not ready for sex yet." More than once. I didn't think that this was going to be a big deal.

We had one conversation I remember quite vividly. We were in his dorm room and for some reason we started talking about rape and rape statistics, and he told me the oft-quoted one about how some high percentage of college-aged men admitted that, if they could guarantee they wouldn't be caught, they'd totally rape a girl. Then he told me that he knew how he'd do it, too: He'd get her drunk, maybe even drug her. Then it wouldn't matter what she said later - what would matter is that she was drunk, and no one would believe her.

Over the next few weeks I patiently ignored all the warning signs that this Not Having Sex thing was a big deal to him. He talked about wanting to have sex with a prostitute just so he could be having sex. He talked a lot about how much he wanted to be having sex. I remember him getting really really upset at one time I didn't want to kiss him and pushed him away. Just stuff. I was young and in love and ignored these things. I had set my boundaries, and believed that they wouldn't be a problem.

One night we went out to the bar. Camrose, bless its wee cotton socks, had several bars that catered to the college crowd and this one's claim to fame was that it occasionally did three-for-one shooter nights. We went out. We drank. I was relatively new to the whole drinking thing and got drunk really fast, and not just a little drunk. I was yelling at someone for not talking to me, which we can't really blame them for since they weren't in the taxi with us at the time. That drunk. Falling over drunk.

So of course this is when my boyfriend, who totally knew I was not ready to have sex, because not only had I told him, he'd expressed displeasure with this, decided that my falling-down-drunk self was ready.

I will not describe the details of this encounter, except to say that when I started screaming and crying, he stopped trying to ~~have sex~~ ~~rape~~ have sex? with me. Nothing like awkwardly taking off a condom when someone's sobbing uncontrollably next to you, I guess.

When I stopped crying, he broke up with me. Because he couldn't cope with not having sex with me any longer.

The fun thing about this story is that it's not the only time that dudes who knew outright that I did not want to have sex with them decided the answer to this conundrum was to wait until I'd been drinking and then try their luck. One, I shit you not, wrote "diary entries" about his plans (and how upset he was that a friend of ours had gotten in the way by not leaving me alone with him when I was drunk) and left them around my home.

Someone over at Jezebel decided to publish a "provocative" piece about how what was ruining America today was this issue of consent when it came to sex. American Guy In Paris Freed From The Idea Of "Consent". It includes this lovely sentence:

This idea of plying a woman with alcohol (something that is applauded by American men in private) often enrages American women because they view it as an assault on their right to consent. Is this really a good thing?

I read that sentence out to Don, who knows about these incidents and a few others. "Is this true?" I asked. "Do men really talk about how this is a good idea?"

He got really really quiet.

Every once in a while I can call these incidents what they were: attempted rape. Attempted rape of me, by men who claimed they were my friends, who said they loved me. Attempted rape by men who were told explicitly and without any room for negotiation that I did not want to have sex with them. I told them this when I was sober. I cannot imagine why they thought that would be different when I was drunk, unless I decide they never saw me as anything other than someone to fuck, and someone who was denying them this fucking opportunity, and thus the answer was to get rid of the denial, not to get over it.

I don't drink in public anymore.