Politics and a hard right turn….

I really thought I’d never bring politics into my blog, but I really can’t help myself. I can’t even begin to fathom how Atkin is even holding a political office, let alone be a senate candidate. Unreal. His comments were just unbelievable. Even your average person shouldn’t really say idiotic crap like that. To be a person in political office. Don’t they have handlers? Seriously, even a lowly aid might have been able to tell him to shut up. I just can’t even wrap my head around it. I was disappointed he didn’t resign. I really don’t find it surprising though. There are many conservative republicans that would alter the fabric of women’s rights if given the chance. It is a scary thought. Roe v Wade hasn’t directly impacted my life, but I have been a companion for a number of friends while they exercised their right to have an abortion. It was very unpleasant, but I couldn’t even begin to imagine just how unpleasant it would be in a back alley. Or how awful it would have been for those friends had they not had a choice. So, when people bitch and carry on about the state of the country it could be far worse, especially for women.

On another note this week, just read an article about pedophiles seeking the same treatment as homosexuals. Their argument is that if many people feel homosexuality is unatural and sinful how is it any different from pedophilia. Ugh. Not a pretty thought. I am blessed to be accepted by my family and friends. I have rarely if ever seen outright homophobia. Sadly, most people have a very different experience. Their lives are filled with hate and they are bullied mercilessly. Growing up I did everything possible to “look” straight. It was difficult. It often felt very strange. I was playing a part, not living a life. Not that I wasn’t bullied. I was, just for different reasons. There were no openly gay students in my small school. Heck, there was only one black kid. It was very redneck, in a lot of ways. The school was off first day of deer season, since nobody would show up. Nothing against rednecks. It was just a very different culture. It wasn’t a place to step out of line. Never a place to be different (not too different). So, I tried to be as straight as possible. I put myself in bad situations, ran with a pretty wild crowd. The drinking and drugs were very much a part of that time in my life. I was doing anything to fit in, even if it meant taking risks. When I look back on my high school years I cannot fathom I survived them. I drank and drove, I did drugs and drove. It was not a one time thing. It was something that was common place amongst the students. For every graduating class we lost at least one student to drinking and driving. It never even made us stop and think. Because it was so rural often times we would party way out in the woods. Easy to have a party without cops or parents, but bad because we had to drive way out there (and somehow get home). I count my lucky stars I didn’t kill myself or someone else driving like that. I made it through unscathed.

Though my straight antics got me in trouble. It was fueled by the drinking and the drugs and my desperate attempts not to be outed. I never thought it would happen to me. I never even paused to think about the position I was putting myself in.

Handcuffs were an interesting choice in party fun. I figured, no problem. I can do this. As the evening went on and we all got progressively more intoxicated. No biggie, this was the norm. When I got handcuffed to him it barely registered. The cold steel shackled me to him. He was a pretty big guy, football player jock type. Somewhere in my head I thought, great this looks good to anyone watching. I didn’t have a boyfriend, so I had to hook up with someone eventually. He was pretty drunk and was very much aware he had me. His demeanor changed. It was his mission from there on out to go somewhere alone. Everyone was pretty well hammered by that point and were all chanting for him to get it “done”. He knew what he wanted. I was actually sober enough at that point to realize there was a good chance I’d end up alone with him. Within 30 minutes we were in a bedroom. I had stopped drinking and was working hard to figure out who had the keys to the cuffs. Nobody was fessing up. When the door closed behind us, they all just kept right on partying. In that bedroom I now had a big guy with one thing on his mind. I was talking a mile a minute trying to get myself out of this mess. He backed me up against the bed. My heart was going like a jackhammer. A cold sweat had started to pour off me. Even with the drugs and the alcohol my brain knew this was a bad situation. I didn’t want to look like a complete idiot, still acting in the final minutes. I knew he’d share his conquest with the entire school. I didn’t want to freak out, though I was quickly approaching panic. We were still handcuffed together. I dropped to my knees in front of him, my hand reaching for his zipper. Hoping I could get him to slow down, or even back off. I remember hearing myself tell him I’d give him a blow job, but I didn’t want to have sex with him. He never even paused. He had one thing in mind, a blow job wasn’t what he wanted. He picked me up off the floor and tossed me onto the bed. It was all I could do not to start screaming, but somewhere in the back of my mind, some idiotic voice kept telling me to shut up. To just let him get it over with, nobody would think I was weird if I slept with the football guy. But I was panicking. I wanted nothing to do with the voice in my head, or to act the part. I wanted to be anywhere but in that dark room with music blaring outside. In those next few seconds he moved his cuff to the bed frame. It didn’t even compute in my panicked brain that I was now chained to that bed. There was nowhere to go. I had scrambled back against the headboard when I suddenly realized I wasn’t attached to him. He seemed amused by the “chase”, and I quickly understood I wasn’t going to get away from him. I remember becoming so very still- I guess thinking it would all be much easier somehow if I didn’t struggle against him. If I just held very still I might be able to make it all go away. He had my other wrist pinned anyhow, I wasn’t going anywhere. Despite my body being still, my mind was anything but. Thoughts were racing thru my head like wildfire. I was already thinking what next, what is going to happen if he gets me pregnant. What the fuck am I going to do. I have to get out of here. He ran his hands over my breasts, smearing his sweat and spit on me. There was no getting out of it. I knew it then. He lowered himself over me. I smelled the sickly sweet odor of alcohol and pot mixed with his sweat. He was panting, saliva running down his chin as he pulled at my pants. So very rough as he clawed down my underwear. He was almost frantic. I got my hand free and pushed against his chest. I said no….I don’t know how many times. The tears ran freely and a scream caught silently in my throat as he rammed his fingers inside me. I felt the burn of bile in the back of my throat. His full weight came down on me and I struggled to breathe. I couldn’t catch my breath. He was too heavy. That was far more terrifying than his pounding into me. There was no pain, only the desperation to find air. I could think of nothing else. His forearms held me down. I felt his breath catch in his throat, a groan. He came hard against me and then stilled. If there was one saving grace to that night, it was that he was finished quickly. He lay there for a moment. I was still fighting to breathe. I pushed him hard with my now free hand. Darkness was beginning to edge in and I thought I was going to pass out. He rolled off and I coughed and fought to regain my breath. I was wet with tears. His sweat and semen clung to me. The pain that was absent now ached and throbbed. He grinned, all happy and proud of himself. “Now you’re fucked”. I looked around and realized I was still bound to the bed. My thoughts were racing again, oh fuck, what if he brings his friends in, they are all going to rape me now…. I was lucky, he didn’t want to share his conquest. Well not with his football buddies. He did share with the entire school. Yeah, learned a good lesson. About humiliation, and about victimization. He had left the handcuff key on the pillow beside me. I curled myself into a ball and brought myself to terms with what had just happened. I had to get myself back together. There was a house full of people, mostly drunk, but still. I had to make this all disappear. IT never happened. I drew myself up and willed myself not to throw up. I made it to the end of the bed and uncuffed myself. I pulled loose the sheet and wiped his remnant from me. I held those steel rings in my shaking hand and realized how very stupid I had been. The worst part of it, they were my cuffs….

We all take risks in life. Some far more idiotic than others. I look back on those years of my life, and my desperate attempts to fit in. I realize how much I gave up, all for a fake image. I let that guy rape me, never said a word. All so that they would think I was like them. Just another straight kid. I shudder at the thought of how many others there are out there doing exactly the same thing. Terrified of being outed. I survived that night. The month or so that followed was pretty awful, as he did tell the entire school about his conquest. I didn’t know it initially. this was before cell phones and twitter and FB. It took a little bit to get things going. The next day there was a school-wide assembly. After the 4 or 5th person turned around to stare I knew exactly what was going on. I don’t think I’ve ever left a room so fast in my life. There is such cruelty in humiliation. There I sat, on the bathroom floor. Having just thrown up. Without laying a finger on me, he had just raped me all over again.

But, like I said, I survived. I often wonder about my choices in life, if you could call them that. I don’t think I could be with a man. I have known violence and violation. I have consensually slept with a man. A kind and gentle soul that showed me they weren’t all monsters. But I can’t help but think it shaped my sexuality. The scary thing is how deeply it did.

Each of us has something that turns us on. For me it is violence. The rougher the better. Bondage included. There is nothing about women having sex that arouses me. But show me a woman tied up and being worked over by a guy- bang. I don’t even have to see it, just hear her pleading or cry out. I’m not the only one, since there is some vicious hardcore porn out there. Weird eh? yeah, my past has shaped my sexuality. It has shaped what excites me. I can’t help but imagine how different it might be without the abuse, and the rapes. I guess our brain does things to protect itself. I cannot fathom how something graphic and violent can be arousing for me, but it is. I just accept that. I don’t think it will ever change. I like that split second when my body starts panicking looking for oxygen. That fight and spark. It is always there. I know what it feels like and I like it. When I think back to that night, or the night with my brother to those minutes pinned beneath. The struggle and gasping desperate attempts to breathe. Doing everything in my power to not let go. It has left its mark on my soul. Not just my mind but my soul. I’m sure there is some deep psychological theory on all this. Violence, pain, loss and abandonment created who I am today.

So here a blog post that started with a comment on republicans and pedophiles took a hard right turn. Didn’t see that coming.

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