I’m an 18-year-old straight
female. Two nights ago, I went to a party. My ex-boyfriend was
present, but my current boyfriend was not. I had several beers, and
while I wasn’t drunk, I was tipsy. I had to go to my car to get my cell
phone, and my ex offered to accompany me. When we got to the car, he
pushed me against the car and started making out with me. I tried to
push him away and said, “No, I can’t” several times. He kept trying to
pull my pants down, and every time he did, I pulled them back up. He
took his dick out and tried again to pull down my pants. I know it
sounds stupid, but all I could get out were meek “nos” and “I can’ts.”
I was afraid of a confrontation because he and I have been friendly
since we broke up. I eventually discontinued my...
...and “I can’ts.”
I was afraid of a confrontation because he and I have been friendly
since we broke up. I eventually discontinued my attempts to pull my
pants back up because I figured the easiest way to get out of this
situation was to let him finish. He had sex with me. I wanted to cry
the whole time, but as much as I wanted to scream, “Stop! Get the fuck
off of me!” I couldn’t get the words out.
I called my boyfriend when I got home and
told him what happened. He is angry because he thinks I had a part in
it. I don’t know how to make him understand how many times I said no
and how at first I physically stopped my ex from taking my clothes off.
My boyfriend and I have been through a lot together, and we talked
about getting married one day. I never wanted to cheat on him, and
while I feel guilty about what happened, I think he’s being harsh on me
considering I succumbed to force.
I’ve apologized again and again, but I don’t
know how to make things right. I still don’t want a confrontation with
the ex. I just want to forget about him and never see him or speak to
him again. I just want things to be okay again with my boyfriend. Is
there anything I can do or say to make him understand?
Date Rape Engenders Awful Depression
Understand that you were raped,
DREAD—date-ish raped, acquaintance-ish raped, gray-area-ish
raped, blurry-booze-soaked-lines raped, and raped under circumstances
that would make bringing charges a futile exercise. But raped. Your ex
kept coming at you, and you were paralyzed by a set of
inhibitions—a desire to avoid confrontation at all costs (even
the cost of your own violation), a desire to avoid making your
victimizer feel bad—that are pounded into the heads of girls and
young women. Your ex exploited this vulnerability. Your ex may not
think he raped you since you finally “let him,” and perhaps he
interprets that as consent and so, distressingly, does your
boyfriend. But raped you were.
So what do you do now? I’d suggest a bit
more contact with your ex. You need to confront him—for your own
sake, DREAD, but also for the sake of all other women he’s going to
encounter over the course of his life. If you can’t face him, call him.
If you can’t speak to him, write him (a letter, not an e-mail).
Wherever he is right now, he’s rationalizing away his responsibility
for what happened. He may be telling himself that he was drunk, that
you were drunk, and that, sure, he may have been aggressive
at first, but that you came around and enjoyed it as much as he
did. He needs to hear from you that you regard—and, for what it’s
worth, I regard—what happened as rape. Tell him that he didn’t
get away with it—that he raped you, you know it, and now he knows
it. Then tell him that if the circumstances were just a little less
ambiguous, DREAD, that you would be going to the police.
Hell, tell him you still might. Put the fear
of God into him.
Then you need to confront the boyfriend: If
your boyfriend can’t take your side, DREAD, if he can’t see what really
happened here, if he insists on victimizing you, too, then you don’t
need him in your life any more than you need your ex in your life.
I’m a 23-year-old gay dude
from Vancouver. My boyfriend and I have been together for four years.
Thing is, he’s seriously letting himself go—gaining weight,
enjoying roomier pants. I drop hints about working out or eating
better—but he gets offended and becomes self-conscious. I want to
be supportive and not care, but I do care and it’s killing me. Had I
known at 19 that he would be throwing away his hot body, I might have
reconsidered his LTR potential. Now, four years later, I’m stuck with a
lovable fatty who I’m having a hard time being intimate with.
Is this awful? Am I selfish? I love him, but
I want to enjoy sex again. I have NOTHING against fatties, Dan, I just
don’t want to bed one.
Really Eating At Me
Drop the subtlety, REAM. No more faux-loving
hints about the importance of diet and exercise—he reacts
negatively to that shit because he’s picking up on your dishonesty.
You’re not concerned for his health, REAM, you’re concerned for
your sex life and what the death of your attraction to him means for
this relationship. So give it to him straight: You’re not attracted to
fatties, which is why you pursued him four years ago, and his weight
gain is killing your sex life and threatening the survival of your
relationship. If he values this relationship, he’ll get his ass off the
And now a note to the infuriated fatsophere:
I’m not saying that REAM’s boyfriend is unattractive because he’s
heavier, or that heavy people aren’t or can’t be attractive, or that we
all must forever maintain our “first-date weight” over the multidecade
course of relationship/marriage/whatever. But to destroy a large part
of what attracted someone to you early in a relationship—whether
actively or through neglect—is to take your partner for granted
in a way that’s not okay. And that goes for a tight-bodied fag
who parks his ass on the couch because he’s got a boyfriend
now—so, hey, why bother with the gym?—and the BBW
who wastes away to skin and bones after she lands an admirer.
A close gay friend recently
seroconverted after months of barebacking and meth use. He’s a
successful professional with years of AIDS peer-education experience.
My immediate reaction was shock and anger. He claims that I am not a
true friend because I should hide my feelings and shower him with
empathy and understanding. Is there something wrong with me for feeling
mad at my friend for his irresponsibility?
Old Fashioned Safe Sex Adherent
Let’s say you’ve got two friends. One gets
hit by lightning, and the other plops his sopping-wet ass down on a
third rail. Do both friends—presuming both survive—deserve
your empathy and understanding, OFSSA? Of course. But one friend
was electrocuted while the other electrocuted his damn
self. Friendship does not obligate you to pretend that your friend
who sat his ass down on the third rail wasn’t being idiotic and
self-destructive. Friendship, in fact, requires the opposite