An unpleasant memory has just bubbled up. About 10 years ago, in the immediate aftermath of finally breaking up with EvilEx, I was out with friends. I’d drunkenly kissed some of the guys in the group - it meant nothing. I was also very well trained, at that point, to believe that that was all I had to offer. That said, I was beginning to learn that I could say ‘no’ and it actually meant something to the person hearing it.
On this night, I decided to go home. One of the guys (a friend of a friend’s brother) offered to see me to the taxi rank. Either there were no taxis, or he somehow persuaded me to call for one from his flat, which was fairly nearby. No, he offered to walk me up the road, but he insisted on stopping at his place to get something or do something. I just wanted to go home, but agreed. Once he had me in his room, he was all over me. I do recall that he was very awkward about it. To his obvious frustration, I wasn’t even a little bit interested. When he eventually accepted that I wasn’t so much as rolling up my sleeve for him, he allowed me to call a taxi. I insisted on waiting outside for it. He didn’t offer to wait with me, and his parting words were something along ‘missing out on the best night of my life’.
It’s horrible to realise that a person in your acquaintance can view you as simply a hole to fuck. That’s all I was; he somehow thought that because I kissed anyone and everyone (it was a passing phase because it was so nice to kiss people I wasn’t ever afraid of; it wore off eventually) I would therefore be an easy lay. The idea that I didn’t want to have sex with him hadn’t even occurred to him.
And it was clearly just sex he wanted; if he actually thought of me as a complete human being, he would have respected the fact that I just wanted to go home. Alone. And had said that to him.
Is it a bit sad that I view this as a lucky escape?