[TherapyBlatant] "scared of sex"
Feb. 8th, 2014 01:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sorcyressTrigger warning: Like, I am not even subtle in discussing the fact I was raped. Also gross emotional abuse.
Having posted a giant fucking wall of text to the 'Read-The-Sorkin-Manual' tag, I decided to poke my nose into what else was collated in there. In addition to a whole bunch of stuff about introversion that I really need to address, I found a bit where I was talking about my abuse, and mentioned how my abuser had said repeatedly I was "scared of sex".
In the entry, I had about three sentences of a footnote being kinda angry and dude-not-cool. The second I reread that sentence, and remembered that it was a phrasing my abuser used all the time on me, I just had my brain suddenly snap into place, and I am livid.
Where in hell's sweet name do you get off on deciding that I am "scared of sex". Hell, where in fuck's name do you get off on deciding *anything* about my mind and emotions. You don't get to pick what I fear! And if you do decide to be some sort of unholy entitled smugass douchebag, how could you ever decide it was then okay to try and use that fear you chose to shame me into doing what you want?
The problem wasn't that I was "scared of sex", and if I just "got over my fears" I'd think boning you was totally rad. The problem was that I wasn't ready for sex, didn't want sex, and in fact, fucking self identified as asexual, (which you knew), but you decided that getting your genitalia touched was way more important than such silly little things as "respect" or "consent".
When I was two, before I could remember, I asked my mother what those[condoms] were and she opened dialogue about safer sex.
When I was eight, I was reading all the sex ed books mom so cleverly kept juuuust quite not out of reach, fascinated by the variation of information. And the playboys I really wasn't supposed to be stealing.
When I was in ten, we had to do mini-essays on great inventions of the last hundred years, and I stood in front of a bunch of fifth graders and told them why I thought the pill was awesome.
When I was thirteen, I found myself unsupervised in a room with a complete run of xxxenophile, and devoured them, because they were so happy, and I'd never seen that before.
When I was fifteen, I orgasmed for the first time, after masturbating regularly for the approximately fourteen years prior.
When I was eighteen and yours, I said I was asexual and I said I wasn't sure and I said I was a proud virgin and it didn't matter that sex had been a central topic to my mind for damn near my entire life, because all those things were still entirely true. Sex was interesting, and sexuality was fascinating but I didn't want to do them with anyone, and I didn't want to do them with you.
And when I tried exploring them, that was great. Until I tried to back down and you decided that you got to choose what our level our relationship stayed at, and right then and there something in my brain changed. Because I've never been scared of sex.
But I was sure as hell scared of you.
~Sor
MOOP!
(And now I am 24. My mother still talks to me about safer sex. I check out sex ed books from the library with my own card, and the internet is better than playboy. I think the pill's so awesome I've been using it for like half a decade. There are at least two boys I know who own xxxenophile, and that's been a component of my wanting to fuck them silly. My hands are great, but I get to masturbate with vibrators now and my orgasms don't stop at one. And you are out of my life, forever and always, and will never ever get to rape me again. Good. Fucking. Riddance.)
Trigger warning: rape, emotional abuse.
Having posted a giant fucking wall of text to the 'Read-The-Sorkin-Manual' tag, I decided to poke my nose into what else was collated in there. In addition to a whole bunch of stuff about introversion that I really need to address, I found a bit where I was talking about my abuse, and mentioned how my abuser had said repeatedly I was "scared of sex".
In the entry, I had about three sentences of a footnote being kinda angry and dude-not-cool. The second I reread that sentence, and remembered that it was a phrasing my abuser used all the time on me, I just had my brain suddenly snap into place, and I am livid.
Where in hell's sweet name do you get off on deciding that I am "scared of sex". Hell, where in fuck's name do you get off on deciding *anything* about my mind and emotions. You don't get to pick what I fear! And if you do decide to be some sort of unholy entitled smugass douchebag, how could you ever decide it was then okay to try and use that fear you chose to shame me into doing what you want?
The problem wasn't that I was "scared of sex", and if I just "got over my fears" I'd think boning you was totally rad. The problem was that I wasn't ready for sex, didn't want sex, and in fact, fucking self identified as asexual, (which you knew), but you decided that getting your genitalia touched was way more important than such silly little things as "respect" or "consent".
When I was two, before I could remember, I asked my mother what those[condoms] were and she opened dialogue about safer sex.
When I was eight, I was reading all the sex ed books mom so cleverly kept juuuust quite not out of reach, fascinated by the variation of information. And the playboys I really wasn't supposed to be stealing.
When I was in ten, we had to do mini-essays on great inventions of the last hundred years, and I stood in front of a bunch of fifth graders and told them why I thought the pill was awesome.
When I was thirteen, I found myself unsupervised in a room with a complete run of xxxenophile, and devoured them, because they were so happy, and I'd never seen that before.
When I was fifteen, I orgasmed for the first time, after masturbating regularly for the approximately fourteen years prior.
When I was eighteen and yours, I said I was asexual and I said I wasn't sure and I said I was a proud virgin and it didn't matter that sex had been a central topic to my mind for damn near my entire life, because all those things were still entirely true. Sex was interesting, and sexuality was fascinating but I didn't want to do them with anyone, and I didn't want to do them with you.
And when I tried exploring them, that was great. Until I tried to back down and you decided that you got to choose what our level our relationship stayed at, and right then and there something in my brain changed. Because I've never been scared of sex.
But I was sure as hell scared of you.
~Sor
MOOP!
(And now I am 24. My mother still talks to me about safer sex. I check out sex ed books from the library with my own card, and the internet is better than playboy. I think the pill's so awesome I've been using it for like half a decade. There are at least two boys I know who own xxxenophile, and that's been a component of my wanting to fuck them silly. My hands are great, but I get to masturbate with vibrators now and my orgasms don't stop at one. And you are out of my life, forever and always, and will never ever get to rape me again. Good. Fucking. Riddance.)
Trigger warning: rape, emotional abuse.