No

“You think my pussy is worth the $8 it cost you to get me that vodka soda that came in a clear plastic solo cup?”

Today I was with a male co-worker and a male client at lunch. My client asked me, “Why do women have to go to the bathroom in packs when they are at a club or a bar?”

My immediate response: “Because we need to stay together to protect each other.”

I don’t think he liked my answer.

The reality is that nights out on the town can get scary when you’re a woman. I have been quite the party animal from a young age, so I have plenty of experience on the party scene. My most recent experiences have been in the city; at bars, clubs, lounges, happy hours, restaurants, and more. I have been the protector and the protected. I have been forced to fight off men, verbally and even physically, both for myself and for the people I care about. I have been made to feel so uncomfortable that I have left bars where I do not feel safe. I have held my friends as they leave clubs in tears after being grabbed at like a piece of meat. I have seen it all it seems.

Just a quick disclaimer: I don’t mean to sound dramatic. My friends and I have fun. There are plenty of decent establishments out there that don’t tolerate sexual misbehavior of any kind. I have met perfectly decent men that have either approached myself/my friends respectfully and/or actually aided in our rescue from other men. Unfortunately, the frequency at which the social experience becomes dark is so high that I still feel this is worth posting about.

Don’t know what I’m talking about?

When men accuse you of being a lesbian because you are not interested in their advances.

(Because there is no possible way that a straight woman could maybe just NOT BE INTERESTED.)

When you tell an aggressive man to back off so he just moves on to a friend.

(I meant BACK OFF. None of us are interested in your inappropriate behavior.)

When men come up behind you and touch your body without asking.

(In no way is it ever okay to touch someone’s body without consent. Ever. It is not sexy to violate someone, regardless of the setting or whether or not they have been drinking. Who taught you that my body was your property?)

When men become irate because you won’t sleep with them even though they bought you a drink.

(Really? You think my pussy is worth the $8 it cost you to get me that vodka soda that came in a clear plastic solo cup? You could buy me a live fucking tiger and it wouldn’t mean that I owe you sex.)

When men insult you after they hit on you and you reject them.

(Just because I am not interested in you sexually doesn’t mean I deserve to be bullied. Just because I said “I’m sorry, not tonight”, doesn’t mean I am a horrible person that deserves to be called names. Is your ego really that fragile?)

When you straight up say “no” to a man and they just won’t back off.

(Why don’t men know that “no” means “no”?)

About a year ago I was at a bar (that I haven’t been to since) with my current roommate/best friend. We were approached by two men that were somewhat dorky and average looking (not that that is relevant to their behavior). The one that spoke to me was a try hard. He was clearly spitting game at me. He asked me where I went to school, and when I told him he went off about how he has visited that campus so many times and loved partying there. I asked him what his favorite bar was on campus…and he couldn’t name one.

I called him out. I told him not to make things up, that he didn’t need “lines” to impress me, that I would prefer he just talk to me. At first I thought he understood.

He kept saying a lot of aggressive things asserting that I wasn’t interested in him, and challenging me. As if I should tell him now if I’m not going to sleep with him so that he doesn’t have to make small talk with me anymore. The more he said these things, the more and more uncomfortable I felt. But his friend was still talking to my roommate, and I couldn’t tell if she was interested, so I tried to hold out a bit longer. The straw that broke the camel’s back was when I told him I was going to run to the restroom, and he was instantly furious.

“So are you actually going to come back, should I even bother waiting for you?”

Dude…I have to pee.

I told him he was freaking me out. I told him I feared he was getting angry at every instance that signaled I may not go home with him tonight. He assured me that he had no expectations. I carried on listening to him peacock-ing, until I couldn’t take it any longer. I grabbed my roomie and we ran to the bathroom. After the bathroom we escaped to a different bar on the strip.

Later in the evening, while we were waiting for an Uber home, we heard a man call out to us. It was him.

“That is the girl who wouldn’t sleep with me! You win some, you lose some, am I right?”

He cackled at me from across the street. It was terrifying.

A lot of these sort of situations have one or both of two parties at fault, just in my opinion. I will explain them in no particular order.

I think women are taught not to say no to men. I think women are taught that we should be grateful for any and all sexual/romantic attention, because our entire self worth should be based on this almost exclusively. What men think of us equals our value.

For the majority of my life, even from my earliest years interacting with boys in my pre-teens, I avoided directly rejecting men at all cost. There are an array of excuses that I’ve developed, and that I’ve witnessed other women use as well.

“I’m not into men.” Yes, I mentioned the “lesbian excuse” earlier. Maybe our use of this excuse has enabled the prescription that men give to women who actually just say “no”.

“I have to go to the bathroom.” Again, another excuse that I was accused of making earlier in my post, even though in that instance it wasn’t just an excuse.

“I have a boyfriend.”

“Tonight is a girls-only night.”

We need to start teaching girls that it is okay to say “no”. We need to empower women to be direct. There is a polite way to turn away a man’s attention, and it doesn’t have to be a watered down excuse. We need women to know that their safety and consent are more important than a man’s fragile ego.

But we also need to teach men that “no” means “no”.

I, and many other women, HAVE said no. We shouldn’t have to say anything else.

This is rape culture.

I would be curious to know, if I really have readers who make it all the way through my lengthy posts, why you think this phenomenon occurs? Do you have any similar horror stories? Do you have any examples of male advocates who HAVE made you feel safe?

I think it is up to all of us, of all genders on the spectrum, to ensure that we no longer enable rape culture to exist. We need to call out the perpetrators, and we need to empower others to do so as well.

Love,

Chubby

“You like my body.”

Being a big girl plays a huge role in my sexuality. I don’t think people realize how much being fat changes a person’s sexual/romantic experience.

I am 5’8″ and I wear a size 18. I have felt like a big girl all my life, even though for the majority of it I was not. In high school I wore a size 12 while my pre-pubescent friends were all wearing a size 0. I look back at pictures of myself and think, “how could I have ever thought I was fat?”

My senior year of high school I gained a lot of weight and got up to maybe a size 16. When I realized how much weight I had gained I started dieting and was able to lose 30 pounds in three months.

Once I went to college I started gaining the weight back, slowly. My sophomore year of college my boyfriend of the time took me shopping as a Christmas present. He bought me a couple dresses. On the car ride home he confessed to me that he wanted me to start losing weight. I was a size 14 at the time. I thought I had a wonderful day, feeling beautiful trying on dresses on this boyfriend-funded shopping spree. Then he crushed me.

By senior year of college I was up to a size 18. Since then I have lost and re-gained weight intermittently, but I have never really gotten back to my ideal size.

Now here I am, single, in the city, trying to date, trying to stay as healthy as possible, trying so hard to build my life here. I have a friend who is also single and new to the city, and I watch her go on dates with guys she meets online. She complains to me about how hard it is to date here. She has no idea how much harder it is for ME.

There are a lot of judgements that others make about fat people. There are a lot of assumptions. There are a lot of microaggressions directed towards fat people. If you don’t know what a microaggression is you should probably look it up.

One of the worst things that has always bothered me is the way that people so blatantly disclude you from normal dating activities. It seems to me that no other physical characteristic omits you from the dating scene as much as being fat does.

In college I was in a sorority, so there were a lot of formal/semi-formal events to go to, a lot of date parties, etc. It was very very common that single people would get set up for these events. I almost never was.

None of my friends ever set me up with a date because they assumed that their male friends would not be attracted to me because I was fat. And I get it. Young, gym-going, frat-stars on the majority probably would not be attracted to me. But did my friends never stop to think even one time that I noticed that I was always excluded?

I also get a lot of back handed compliments. “Wow, that is so flattering on you.” Could it maybe just look nice on me? Or is my fat body so horrendous that the best it gets is when a piece of clothing is simply able to HIDE (aka flatter) my body?

My other favorite move is when men like let me know that it is okay that I’m big and they still like me anyways. Some of them even fetish-ize it in a way. They tell me they don’t like thin women. 1) Why do you assume that I feel uncomfortable with my size and that they have to let me know like “not to worry” about it because they are still into me “anyways”??? You like my body. You don’t have to explain why you like it as if it is such a weird and rare thing that someone could be attracted to my body. 2) You don’t like thin women? Really? If I put a Megan Fox or some other super hot thin girl in front of you, you’re telling me you wouldn’t be attracted to her? Also sizing me up to other women is not the way to compliment me? Also why do you have to put down other women to make me feel good?

Being fat makes online dating much more difficult.

I post up to date pictures on my dating profiles but I don’t tend to keep photos around that I look big in. I don’t mean to deceive people with the photos I choose to put online, but what am I supposed to do, put on my most fat revealing outfit and do a photo shoot?

There is always the fear that men won’t be attracted to you once they meet you in person. That fear is there for anyone. But can you imagine how much that fear is escalated when you are a big girl?

In my dating profiles I specify that I am plus sized. My tag line is “Open minded, intelligent, sexual, liberal, plus sized, dog person, 420. If you’re not cool with any of these things please don’t waste my time.” How more honest and straightforward could I possibly be here?

One time a really fit looking man was messaging me and I told him there was no way his profile was real because a man who was so into working out would never be interested in me. He responds “oh my god, you are not big!” Okay…stop. I didn’t ask you to tell me I am not fat. I was not fishing for compliments.

Chubby people still have sexualities. We don’t have to hide our bodies to be considered sexy. Our bodies don’t need to be excused for a person to be attracted to us. Fat people are not the only ones who are attracted to fat people.

I may come back to update this post but that is all for now folks.

Love,

Anonymous Bitch

A Sexual History

“The night ends with me dislocating my jaw on a black guy’s dick.”

For my first ever blog post, I figured I’d establish a bit of context for everything that is to come. Get it, to come…

Everyone has at least a few sexual milestones in their lives that have shaped their sexual identity over time. Here are mine from my life to date.

  • 2002 – A girl named Margaret tells me what sex is for the first time on our bus ride home from school. She didn’t get all the facts right, but it was the first time I was ever aware of the concept of sex.
  • 2008 – One of my friends tells me how to masturbate.
  • 2009 – I lose my virginity to my best friend’s cousin and then proceed to lie to her about it for four years. She is still my best friend.
  • 2009 – I am raped by two neighborhood boys who were close friends of mine since childhood. They gave me spiked drinks with sleeping pills in them.
  • 2011 – I get blackout drunk and have sex with a girl. She is the girl who told me how to masturbate back in 2008. She is also still one of my best friends.
  • 2011 – I meet my first love and experience my first “man-made” orgasm, aka not self induced.
  • 2014 – I experienced my first heart break, followed by about 12 months of out of control promiscuity. I’m talking like a solid 20 notches on my belt over the course of the year. Get ready for several more 2014 bullet points.
  • 2014 – On what would have been me and my ex’s anniversary, I host a “break up party” to drink away my feelings and get laid. The night ends with me dislocating my jaw on a black guy’s dick. No joke I was giving him head and all of a sudden I realized I could no longer shut my mouth. It didn’t hurt, but I was freaking out. My friends took me to the emergency room and the doctors had to knock me out with propofol (the drug that killed Michael Jackson) so that they could jam my jaw back into my face. Despite everything, that guy and I continued to sleep together for a whole year following the incident.
  • 2014 – I meet my sugar daddy. He is an ex-college football player, accountant, and single father of one who becomes obsessed with me. I later find out that maybe he wasn’t so single because he announces on Instagram on Father’s Day that he is soon to be the father of two, with the same baby mama. They have since had that child and recently got engaged.
  • 2014 – I have group sex at my 21st birthday party. Three guys plus me and one other girl. Let me just say, no regrets.
  • 2015 – I find out I am pregnant. I immediately decide to have an abortion without thinking twice. I am early enough along that all I need to do is take a pill that costs $500. It is a relatively painless experience that I never once felt bad about choosing. Some judgey “friends” from college made me promise them that making the choice “wasn’t easy for me”, but I was just lying to appease them. It was super easy.
  • 2015 – I am raped again. Again by two men. It happens in my own bed. I begin to pursue pressing charges. A police officer at my university tells me he spoke with the assailants and they “seemed like normal guys” so he isn’t sure “why they would do that”. I decide not to press charges. My roommate tells me this is why I shouldn’t invite strangers into our apartment.
  • 2017 – Three months after dumping my college boyfriend, I find out that he has posted nude photos of me on a revenge porn website and included my full name and link to my Instagram page. I have to get a lawyer to get the pictures taken down and to send my ex a cease and desist letter. The last ever communication I will ever have with him is an email from him to my lawyer that includes him referring to me as Ms. (my real last name here).

Does any of this tell you anything about my sexual identity yet? You might think I am a slut. You might think I am a victim. In reality I’m just another person.

Love,

Anonymous Bitch