Once upon a time I thought I was telepathic.
No, not really, but once upon a time, I behaved as though the men I was interested in could read my mind. With a look or a series of hints, I could convey my desires and they’d have the option to either make them happen or not.
I was in a crowded elevator heading to the top of the Eiffel Tower. My parents, my brother, and his girlfriend (now wife) were with me. I was sanding beside the elevator operator, who was eye-fucking me.
I have a thing about pushing my own boundaries. I mean, I was a legal adult, a sexually active one, and I’d spent the previous week sharing a room with my little brother and his girlfriend, without access to a vibrator or any sexual release.
I felt the elevator operator’s attention fixate on me. I fixated back, silently. I imagined him wanting me and touching me. I imagined all SORTS of things while we stood there, nearly touching, on the ride up while everyone else was oblivious to it.
And then he grabbed me by the pussy.
No joke, that’s exactly what happened. He grabbed my cunt and worked his fingers around it over my clothes.
I didn’t say anything, I just remembered feeling really confused by what had just happened.
See, there are fantasies I want to make happen and there are some that are better off left in the land of make-believe. This was the latter.
Did I want him to grab me? Yeah, part of me did. BUT NOT THE PART THAT WOULD HAVE SAID SO OUT LOUD.
So now, I don’t leave it up to interpretation. I tell people straight up what I want from them. I tell my partner “I want you to kiss me,” or “I want you to say something nice to me,” or “I want to tease you until you can’t take it anymore and then overpower me.”
Would it be super fun if he could read my mind and life played out like a custom made fantasy?
I used to think it would. But imagine if every time I thought a guy was attractive and thought something remotely flirtatious and/or sexual about him he acted on it like the guy in the elevator at the Eiffel Tower?
Yeah, I do not want people to act on my thoughts. I don’t want to be grabbed by the pussy by someone who is getting a “message” from me that is not a message I said with my words.
Now, my partner and I have a negotiated relationship. He can grab me by the pussy whenever he wants – because I trust, for example, that he wouldn’t do it in a situation that would make trouble for me with family, coworkers, or law enforcement.
In our VERY FIRST SCENE I gave him verbal permission to touch me wherever he wanted. He chose not to grab me by the pussy that time.
But he was aware he could have.
There’s a lot of writing/talking about consent, and it’s an important conversation to have. What clearly separates assault, abuse, and harassment from what we do here is consent.
And unless you’ve heard me tell you something with my words, step the fuck back.