Two years ago, I wrote about how much I hate threesomes. I wasn’t quite honest in that post.
Recently, I have been dealing with the fall out of my assault being re-triggered.
These are related, trust me.
I have also been reading quite a bit about ethics. I’m reading a book for school called ‘The Ethics of Touch‘, a book about ethics and professionalism in somatic bodywork therapies. It is the basis of much of the Professional Development material taught in my school, which I was also re-reading lately. ‘The Ethics of Touch’ is an excellent book that covers many topics related to bodywork. Its funny, to me, how many of my BDSM and poly skills translate to BDSM. The first thing they taught us was reflective listening, and how to talk in ‘I’ statements. We spend lots of time talking about boundaries, and consent and other lovely things that more people should talk about.
We also talk about the ethics and professionalism required for working with someone who has a history of sexual trauma, as I mentioned in the last post. This is difficult for me most of the time, because *I* have a history of sexual trauma, and while it wasn’t difficult discussing it last semester, after the bullshit of this summer (which I will eventually write about, but for now, it will be vague and confusing. Deal.) it has been difficult getting through the material, though I find it valuable both for my profession, and for myself
Something about it stirred up the memories of that stupid three way.
It was a party, at my house. St Patrick’s day – basically a bunch of us, twenty or so, hanging out and drinking excessively. We were all over 21, so my parents were find with us drinking in the house. It was better, they figure, then being out at a bar and having to get home. We all lived within walking distance, and there were some non-drinkers as well.
My friend M and I had been having a weird flirting thing going on for years, since we were in middle school. We hadn’t seen each other for a while, due to a stupid fight involving a boyfriend of mine, but it was high school, so eventually we got over it. Our sort of friend, sort of guy that we couldn’t stand, but who had some sort of weird friendshippy type connection with us all, and who was at the party, also had a flirty thing going on with her. We’ll call him A.
He had appeared back on our radar during a weird, post-graduation summer, when M was home. He and I didn’t really like each other – at least, I didn’t like him. Before this party, M and I had gone with another friend, J to a goth club one evening, and A was there (and it turns out he was there with another guy I had a brief fling with. Awkward!) A kept trying to touch me, and eventually got close enough to put his face in my cleavage, and bit my breast. I tried to put my cigarette out on his bald head, but J stopped me and got him off. (I was slightly crazier at this time, and trying to put a cigarette out on his head might have seemed like a reasonable response)
At the party, it came to a head, and he and I were getting rather competitive over our flirtations, particularly as it didn’t seem like M was all that interested in him either. I know I was rather drunk – much of the night was rather fuzzy, but a good fuzzy. M was drinking as well. I’m not sure if, or how much, A was drinking. But I think he realized he had an advantage.
The party was split between my living room, where the TV was, and my bedroom, where the computer was. M, A and I were in there with a few other people, when A managed to shoo them all out and lock the door, locking M and I in. I was not pleased, and tried to unlock the door, but he blocked me, and then M when she tried. He was not violent, but he would not let us leave my room. I don’t remember what happened in detail after that, but eventually M and I realized we weren’t getting out of the room unless we had some sort of sex with A. So we did, and we went back to the party.
I realize, looking back, that that was icky, wrong, unethical, and very, very bad. Regardless of the fact that we, several times after that, did it again, does not make that first time any less fucked up. It was coercive, and M and I were in no fit state to consent. We weren’t even in a fit state to think that, if we banged on the door, or caused a scene, our friends outside would make him open the door.
I’m not sure if I should call this sexual assault, but I do know there was much sublimated anger in towards A. It didn’t help that, eventually, he came to treat me as a sexual accessory, while M and I considered ourselves all equally involved. It all ended in about a month, at a party M had where there was more drinking and sexy times, though all the sexy times I engaged in at that party were both fun, and consensual. M found out A had a girlfriend who he’d been cheating on, which pissed her the fuck off. Now, by that point, the three of us were no longer having sex. At some point, A tried to food around with me, and I said no. Then he tried to kiss me, and I punched him. After that, things were pretty much put to bed. We had an awkward car ride home (the party was at her school, several hours from where A and I lived) and after that, he and I never spoke again. M and I lost touch for a few years, and now keep up with each other on facebook.
I’m not sure how to process this all, except that it sucks, and it happened, and perhaps I stuffed it down, down, down. Oddly, I’m not angry about it now. I’m not upset, I didn’t cry writing this, and I feel only antipathy towards A. Though this is likely why I tend to dislike MFF three ways.
Its odd, because I am still full of so much rage towards Marcus and his actions. Maybe its because I was older, or because it was more recent. Likely, though, I think it has to do with the face that I was mentally healthy when Marcus assaulted me, where as when things happened with A, I was not medicated for any of my issues. In one case, I was starting already kind of broken, and the other, I started whole. I have a feeling that might be the key, and that may be why I harbor so much rage towards Marcus. He didn’t just take away my agency, he didn’t just violate me, he took away something I had worked so, so hard to build, which was my sense of self as a whole, healthy, happy person.
This is important for you to write about. Thank you for opening yourself on this difficult subject.