[Another back post about sexual assault. I’m sorry! I’m trying!]
One thing that comes up kind of a lot as I share my story is, “Why was it such a big deal to have sex in your bed/have him over to your apartment?”
Now, that’s a fine question to ask.
Granted, that’s of course, not the important piece of the story. And I’m sorry to disappoint with the answer, but I don’t have some magical incredible reason. It’s not a giant key to a crazy backstory or anything exceptionally interesting. I mean, I don’t know.
Are all women out there happy to have men over to their places the week they start sleeping with them – literally within days of the first time? Nobody’s concerned about their privacy or just kind of like their space or anything? I dunno! Maybe I’m the only one.
I like to feel like a “guest.” I like to feel freer to leave, if I want. I feel safer in someone else’s apartment. It’s generally easier to try to get out of somewhere than it is to get someone out of your place. I dunno.
I also used to have roommates in LA. And they were cool and fine and all. But, even if they were super chill about it, I didn’t like having a boy over while I had roommates… It just felt weird (especially when most of the dudes I slept with in Los Angeles lived alone, so it made even less sense for them to come over to me). It was kind of a convenience thing, I guess.
Also, in New York, I had just moved in. I still had some boxes and stuff. It just didn’t feel like a place really ready to host anybody, really… I dunno.
I mean, you might be able to read that I’m grasping at straws here because I kind of am. I don’t have one amazing spectacular reason of why I’m weird about it. (I mean, I guess in this very specific case, the dude I loved very much in California had said it was gonna break his heart once someone was in my bed – that that would be really painful. And so the idea of hurting him really hurt me (even if we weren’t “officially together” or whatever across the country – still didn’t wanna hurt him!) And I guess that’s pretty relevant, even though I hate talking about that part, as obviously I that dude to stay separate from this story, and I also don’t want people to start saying my boundary is any less valid if part of is has to do with another man.
The main most important point about this though is not to get to the bottom of why I didn’t want to have sex in my apartment. The point is it was a clear boundary I was drawing. Someone is free to think that’s weird. Someone is even free to think that’s too much weirdness for them to handle (and therefore decide I’m not worth sleeping with). Someone can have a conversation with me and be like, “It makes me feel weird that [you don’t trust me yet, or whatever thing upsets them about not being able to come to my place]. Of course we could talk it out!
But what it can’t do is be trounced all over after I make it clear.
If someone makes it clear they’re not comfortable having sex without condoms and someone secretly takes one off, they’re being violated.
If someone makes it clear they don’t want to be penetrated with a toy and they are anyway, they’re being violated.
If someone sets any boundary and it’s not respected, that’s a violation.
If I had some rule like, “I only have sex on purple sheets on weekdays, period. Never outside of that circumstance,” could you think that was odd? Of course! Could you ask me questions about it? Yeah. Could you stick your dick inside me as my body trembles uncontrollably with fear while we’re lying on orange sheets on a Saturday? You could not!
It is not someone’s job to ignore a boundary because it’s “dumb” or “nor normal” or whatever. If you want to find a girl who will have sex in her bed in the first week, that’s fine. Go find her. But don’t force yourself on me to make me her.
So, since the bed question comes up somewhat often, hopefully this has been a sufficient answer. 🙂