Ugh… If I had one wish in the world, the entire world, is that this could be simple. I kinda like @popobawa4u idea of a ritual orgy–get your inner self out, and if it doesn’t work it doesn’t work.
When I was seventeen a friend gave me an unexpected HJ on a bus. When I was 21 I was woken by someone having sex with me. Before I was married, I was the Booty Call-ee, not the Booty call-er.
Explicit consent is best
I navigated ambiguous, odd interactions, and I feel healthy for the most part. But I’d never let that shit happen again.
If you want the weird, not-gonna-be-in-my-book story, pm me. The never to be published chapter is two sentences.
I’ve been engaged twice without my consent, both times while living on different continents. In one case the lady in question sent me many handwritten pages declaring her love and willingness to marry me along with full-length photos from all different angles, silk flowers and an African shirt (which I kept, because it was pretty cool. Even my wife was impressed, although it was interesting to receive it in the mail that had built up over our honeymoon). The other time the person had got a marriage licence (which I didn’t even know you could get without your SO), bought a dress and picked out a wedding venue. (We were in a long distance relationship, but I was 19 and not really looking to get married just yet).
None. Applying very simple logic to the concept of equality taught me about consent. That and the cautionary principle; when in doubt, check. Super-easy. No need to turn to Hollywood.
And to someone infinitely less creepy when you were looking, I should hope. Yikes! I’m all about forward women, but that’s some serious stalker shit. The second suitor. The first could have been romantic, albeit a tad desperate, if she hadn’t proposed through the mail.
It was… surprising and it took a bit of time to explain why it wasn’t welcome, that’s for sure. I mean, we’d talked about different things and I had said that I didn’t really want to invest in a long distance relationship that wasn’t serious, but I didn’t mean that serious just yet. (TBH, it wasn’t just her - both sets of parents were so enthusiastic and I was sitting in Africa freaking out about everyone I thought I knew and what was going to happen when I got back.).
I still don’t really know who the first one was - I was in her country a couple of years earlier, but I don’t remember her and think she may have been related to a guy I did give my address to. On the face of it it seems like a scam, but it’s a lot of effort and money to spend handwriting long letters and sending gifts across the world.
