Tag Archives: drunk sex

Condoms Are Consent

My story is about how, for me, safer sex is intrinsically tied to consent. I cannot give consent without feeling safe. One time during sex (however safe I felt) the guy took the condom off without telling me. He figured, once we got this hot and heated, there were no cues that I was saying “no”. I feel guilt sharing this because I know people will judge me for having sex with this guy even after his display of Jerk-Assness; even after he breached my consent. People will judge that I lack self-respect; that I gave mixed messages; that I’m a slut. Whatever. I’m telling this story because issues of consent are not easy to navigate flow-charts. I’m saying that lusty desire and consent can be full of emotional contradictions.ConSentConDom

It was New Year’s Eve. The cocktail of booze and dancing at a friend’s custom party led to flirtation and ultimate make out sessions between “Gladiator” and I (I was dressed as “Uhura” from Star Trek). We had not really talked before but tonight I was feeling that I could have some casual sex. At that point in my life, in the context of that party, and our swelling chemistry, tonight I knew and wanted casual, just-for-fun sex.

I slipped into the new year sloppily kissing. An hour or so after midnight, we said goodbye to friends and got in a taxi and went home. We were tipsy but I felt in control. I felt safe. We sloppily made out some more. It got to the point where he was looking for a condom which I insisted upon (I worked at Planned Parenthood. Condoms are like second nature to me so I had no problem standing my ground despite his subtle condom-disgruntle).

Halfway through the act, he pulled out to switch positions. When we switched again, I reached down and felt his bare, condomless dick. “Where’s the condom!?”

“Oh, it was bunching up so I took it off.”

My heart dropped. WTF!

I yelled at him for his lack of respect for me and rolled over. I was beside myself. Angry. I did not consent to this! But despite feeling violated, I didn’t want to get up from the bed and walk 2 miles home alone in the early freezing morning. I was fine with just turning my back to him and falling into a boozy sleep.

The next morning I woke up next to him and he started to kiss me again. I liked his kisses. He made me feel hot.  I tried to forget about last night and just be “cool”. No fusing. This was just-for-fun, after all.

We got hotter. Sex was on the cards again.  Then he tried to have to sex with me without a condom again!star trek face palm

I gripped his naked dick before entering me and said to him with a heavy breath, “We are not having sex without protection.”

He swiftly located a new condom and I helped put it on.  The compromise, between my feelings of unease and our lust to have sex, was that we used a condom. I had sex with him again. He kept it on. Soon after, I trekked home in my New Year’s costume feeling like this is not the way the real “Gladiator” would have fucked “Uhura”.

Monologues are independent stories and the opinions shared are the author’s own.

Promises I Didn’t Know I Made

YouNeverOweSexI was out late with friends. I was 19-years-old and lit up with enough alcohol to make me silly, energetic, and flirtatious. I was flirting without aim – with female friends and male friends, and without thinking through intentions. I didn’t have any real design, I was just feeling good. We went from bar to bar. I was spinning and heady. At one point I remember grabbing a guy’s hand and running off, speeding the group along.

Later that night, I went back to my friend’s apartment. I was sleeping on her couch, or that was my plan. That is, until her upstairs neighbor, who was the boy whose hand I had grabbed, led me off to his bedroom. I was pliant and thoughtless; young and inexperienced.

In his bed, he kissed me. His hands started roving over my body. That sobered me up somewhat. Finally, I was thinking about where I was and what I was doing. And I didn’t want to be doing it. I pulled away and told him as much. To his credit, he did stop touching me. Not as much to his credit, he then preceded to beg. “Please,” he said. “You held my hand.” He waited. “Please, have sex with me. You held my hand.” I again told him no. He continued, “Please have sex with me!”

I’ve never felt so stone-cold and turned off. He wouldn’t relent. He pleaded, begged, and I finally realized I had to remove myself from the situation because he was not going to stop or accept my “no.” I left his room and went down to the couch at my friend’s place.

In the morning, I brought it up with her. She was not impressed – with me. Like him, she said, “But you held his hand. You flirted.”

And so I did. I wouldn’t say it was my most responsible night. I wasn’t thinking through my actions, their consequences, or what they might communicate to others. Some growing up has helped that sort of thing. But he was also not responding to me. Would he really want to have sex with a girl whom he badgered into it? Was the sex more important to him than my desire for it? I was lucky, in that my indiscretion led me to the bed of a rather sad, wheedling boy, and not an outright aggressive one. He wouldn’t let my “no” be, but other than attempting to force me with words, he didn’t force me. I left annoyed with him, sobered that he was so much more interested in having sex than whether or not I wanted to have sex- but otherwise unharmed.

I also left shocked at my friend, and that she would assert that any sort of flirtation amounts to a promise for sex; that the so-called promise obligates a woman to later deliver on that sex, no matter how she feels or what she wants; and also that flirtation justifies men to be pushy as they make their claim for what they feel they deserve, impervious to what the woman might want herself.

It was not the first time, or the last, that a boy would beg me to have sex with him, or tell me that I had effectively already made a promise of sex to him through my behavior.

In many of those cases, my behavior was far less promising and flirtatious than it had been on that night. For instance, one evening I watched a movie alone with a male friend. We talked, enjoyed the film, and he made a move. It was unwelcome, and I told him I wasn’t really into it. He wouldn’t accept my no, either. He grew increasingly belligerent about it as I continued to assert myself, saying that I was obligated to have sex with him since I’d watched the film with him. The night ended with me kicking him out of my house.

There are no promises in sex or love. Consent has to happen all along the way. And men’s desires don’t get to trump women’s desires. Unless both people are into it, and both people are saying yes, the situation sucks.

Monologues are independent stories and the opinions shared are the author’s own. Do you relate to this story? Share in the comments.