Standing Ground

My first time was with a friend. I had made an offhand joke that for a bottle of Jack, I’d be willing to have sex. I eventually had some serious hesitation in doing such a thing with him, but after having my repeated nos and being told that I was not allowed to change my mind, going through with having intercourse with him seemed my only option. I will say that the hour spent is something I can never get back. I say spent, but I honestly mean wasted. For me, that was a complete waste of my time. He did assure me that even though I didn’t feel it, I did get an orgasm. Anyone with any sort of common sense will understand how stupid that type of comment really is. He was also more keen on the idea of ‘bedding a virgin’ then making sure that I actually enjoyed the act. I know for sure he enjoyed himself. So there’s that, I suppose. While this may not matter to some, it’s still vital to understand and comprehend what happened.

I wanted to back out, and even tried several times to do so. When a simple no went unheard, that I wasn’t ready for sex yet, I even resorted to excuses. Such as, my monthly had shown up or I had a headache. I kept being reminded that changing my mind wasn’t allowed. That’s how keen my friend was on the idea of making me a woman. Which, according to the rules of society, I had been a woman since the age of 13. So obviously, as I didn’t actively enjoy having sex before I actually wanted to, it still bugs me to this day. It’s been well over ten years.

Later, I would get engaged. This relationship wouldn’t last and did eventually end. This was yet another moment of my having sex with hesitation. Another instance where my guilt in not wanting to won out over my sense of self. I had already been upfront that being sexually active wasn’t on my plate of things I wanted at that moment. My then fiance agreed to allow me to set the pace for that. Until he realized I was very serious about not wanting to have sex. Then came the quiet guilt trips. About how he watched adult videos with people that resembled me. How he wanted photos of me without a shirt. Those he was adamant about getting; since he couldn’t have the real thing, at least let him jerk off to an image. He could work with that at least. He even pleaded for me to think about it, for him. I didn’t want to. On a good day, I don’t enjoy having my picture taken. And for him to want something like that? I was uncomfortable with the idea and even told him this. I did my best to stand my ground on my no for that too. But, he actually made me feel guilty for not wanting to give him some simple sexy photos. So I tried to find a middle ground. The pictures I sent were tasteful, where you couldn’t actually see anything. A boob swell under an open shirt. He was quick to point out what he actually meant was something with no shirt to obscure the view. My middle ground wasn’t good enough. Over the course of a few weeks, he would beg for more such pictures. Knowing that he wouldn’t hear the word no, after awhile I would just give the camera a dead stare.

I think it was a day I was sick where he wanted a picture of me in my chef’s jacket. Being done with the ordeal in general, I snapped a picture and it was not a photogenic one. I just looked upset and miserable. In his infinite kindness, he offered to be happy with the photos he did have. Like he was doing me a favor by being content with what I did. After awhile, the photos were lost in a hard drive wipe and he actually asked if there was any chance of me sending just one photo. I said no and left it at that. If he brought it up again, I would ignore the comment.

Eventually, his other guilt trips would finally get what he wanted. Or rather, his comment of what was I gonna do when we got married (again, I had been very open about not actually wanting sex). I tired of saying the same thing over and over again, quipped that I would just have to get used to it. And I tried to force myself to enjoy having sex with him. It was something that he very clearly wanted, no matter what I felt about it or what trauma I had that had poisoned my mind against having sex in the first place. Something he and I had actually conversed about. Considering that each time actually hurt, I can easily say that my aggravation may have played a key factor. And I may have been able to eventually trick myself into enjoying it. But after that week, he felt entitled to my body. As if simply because we had sex, he was allowed to touch whatever he wanted with out permission. The guy I had sex with the first time had the same issue. Simply because we had been intimate, he felt the right to slap my ass as a greeting. Something that vexed me to no end. Getting mad about both actions only got a humored chuckle. As if my reactions to having body parts being treated like a fondle prop was funny. It’s not, by the way. Being treated like a thing for someone else’s pleasure is never fun, no matter what gender or sex you are.

We ended up breaking up, partially due to distance and partially due to me realizing had I never had sex to begin with, my fiance wouldn't have pushed the issue. I only know this because I asked and he replied that because I had already had sex that it was okay, even though I wasn’t as open to the idea. Yeah, nothing like having your worries and insecurities completely ignored.

The good news is the next boyfriend never got into my pants. I had learned that this time, I wasn’t going to let guilt trips sway me. Or threats to be cheated on. Or rather, promises to be cheated on. I ignored his pleas and begging that he wanted to be with me. Probably because every time I would start to let my guard down, I’d end up getting gaslit over something or another. Super fun. There’s nothing like being made to feel crazy when you’re not. I didn’t even date this guy for a solid year, I got tired of him threatening my friends and his efforts to isolate me away from my more opinionated friends. Now? I’m still single, but I’m also better at standing firm on my ideals. I won’t let someone wear me down on something I’m not overly keen on doing. And I am more open about what I don’t like. Granted, it shouldn’t have taken me this long to get to this point, but that’s a moment for another day.