In which I gain a little more sanity.
This is part of my story. But it isn’t. But it’s important to me, and so I share it with you.
I have always felt odd about how I described my relationship with Peter. I have always felt that I couldn’t explain it properly, and that frankly most people probably wouldn’t understand the depth of the confusion and mental agony I went through during those two years (particularly the last year).
But recently, I’ve discovered why.
In my lifetime, there have been 5 men with whom I’ve felt a very deep connection, all of them romantic. Was I boy-crazy? I don’t think I was any more than most girls. But then again, I believed that my purpose in life was to find a man and get married and stay at home and have his babies (I believed this in my heart of hearts, though part of me that grew into who I am today fought against that). Those men are, in order, the boy I had a huge crush on whose mother and sister gave me such horrible advice after my assault, Nathanael, Peter, Joe, and Gary (my husband). Out of those five relationships, there is only one that I never understood…only one that ever felt innately dangerous to me. And that was my relationship with Peter.
There was a time when I was at BJU where I called my friend John and unloaded on him. I’ll not reveal the context right now (because that deserves its own post) but I was frantic about Peter. John didn’t understand. I remember him saying at one point, “I don’t understand why you’re so afraid. It’s like you think the moment you’re alone with him, something’s going to happen.” And I couldn’t explain it, because that’s exactly what I thought. And I knew how ludicrous it sounded. And I didn’t understand.
I started to recognize it when Rachel left a comment on one of my posts. I read through her comment, my heart pounding with a sinking, unsettling understanding of exactly what she had gone through. And yet I still didn’t quite grasp the relationship.
Then an old professor of mine invited me to be a guest speaker at my old community college’s AIGA Club’s meeting. Peter was going to be there. He was there, in fact. The entire week leading up to the engagement, I slept fitfully. I began having dreams about him – some of them, nightmares. Panic stole over me in a way that it hadn’t done in more than 3 years – the last time I was with him. The day of the event, a dear friend of mine walked me through a mini-nervous-breakdown and helped me to pinpoint what exactly it was about Peter that so thoroughly confused and terrified me. And my discovery that day is what I am going to share with you, once again in hopes that shedding light on this darkened part of my soul will bring some sort of healing.
I’d had class with a guy that kept talking about his friend, Peter, who was a professor at the school. I kept picturing this older, balding, gray-haired and bearded man with a slight pot-belly that was wise and goodly. Imagine my surprise when I walked into my first web design class to see a tall, thin, auburn-haired blue-eyed man who looked like he was only a few years older than me. He was…interesting. And not what I expected.
It had been about six months since I was assaulted in sculpture class – it was the following semester, actually, after the summer break. I never drew that correlation before talking to my friend, Robyn. But it makes the rest of everything make sense.
The first web page we had to turn in was an autobiographical page that we had to hand-code in Notepad. It had to include a self-portrait. I decided to draw mine in Illustrator using the gradient mesh tool. When we were doing class critiques and Peter got to my page, he stopped and stared at the portrait. “Is this Illustrator?” he asked in awe. I nodded. “But you just used the live trace tool, right?” he said in a slightly disappointed voice. “No,” I replied, stung. “It’s gradient mesh. I did it myself.” His mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding. You did this? This is…amazing!” And I tasted that compliment for quite a while.
He started using me as the demonstrator for projects. I would sit at his computer, and he would stand behind me, between me and the wall, and direct me what to do. He often touched me, my shoulder or back or hand or arm. I did my utmost not to flinch, telling myself that it was because we were in close quarters and there was no room to move around. But then he started to do it when I was at my own computer, when he had plenty of room. And I would flinch like he’d back-handed me, because it scared me and I felt threatened. He never said anything, but always looked surprised and little hurt by my reaction. It didn’t stop him, though. And I didn’t tell him to stop. It never entered my mind that I could tell him to stop. I hated it, I hated the feelings it brought up in me of terror and intrigue and anger and violence. But by the end of that first semester, I stopped flinching…because he touched me so often that I got used to it. By the end of that semester, too, he let it slip that he’d asked a mutual friend about me. I wondered why. It unnerved me that he continued to show interest in me and continued to touch me. I didn’t trust him. And yet there was this sliver of something I didn’t understand within myself regarding him.
The next semester, I had to take the second web design class because I needed the credits. His attention continued, both verbal and physical. He started lifting me up publicly in front of the class as an example. He continued to praise me privately. And I started to recognize that sliver of emotion within myself, and I fought hard against it. I didn’t want it. I didn’t understand it. It had never happened before. I was entering into dangerous territory and I was so thankful that I’d never see him again after that class.
Except I couldn’t get a job that summer. So I had to go back to school. I had to see him again. My stomach was in knots. I didn’t trust him. He touched me all the time. He obviously was interested in me, somehow. And it repulsed me and intrigued me and I didn’t know what to do. But I was suddenly spending 6-8 hours a day with him, 3 days a week. And his interest grew. And I finally recognized that sliver of emotion and acknowledged it to myself: I was sexually attracted to him.
I’d never been sexually attracted to a man before. Don’t get me wrong, I found men attractive. I really liked some men. But…with Peter, it was different. It was instinctual. It was powerful. I…I wanted him. And I’d never wanted anyone before. And the only person I’ve wanted since him has been my husband now.
But it scared me. Because women aren’t supposed to have sex drives…or so I thought. I wasn’t supposed to want sex. It wasn’t supposed to be an issue. And besides, he scared me. He didn’t follow my cues – when I flinched, he still touched me…sometimes more firmly. When I tried to deflect conversation, he pursued me doggedly. I wanted to avoid him because I was terrified of my own desire, and I started to recognize that he had a similar desire for me, despite our incompatible belief system, despite the fact that he was in authority over me, despite the fact that he was already in a committed relationship. He pursued me nonetheless. And I felt powerless. I felt that he had this amazing power over me – that when he looked at me, he could somehow control me. I have never before or since felt so helpless. I was entranced and afraid and aroused and panicked.
By the end of that third semester, I was a ginormous ball of confusion and despair and desire. We’d started having lunch together once in a while. We were going to extracurricular activities together at the college. I didn’t feel quite as dirty when he touched me. I enjoyed talking to him. He made me feel special. No one had made me feel special like this. There was always a warmth to his touch, a gleam to his eyes. And I was both terrified and entranced. I was utterly and completely mesmerized…the way you can’t look away from a train wreck.
I told no one the entirety of what was going on, save Daniel. I knew that one of two things would happen: I wouldn’t be believed, or I would. And both…both were unacceptable to me. And I continued to tell myself that nothing was going on, despite all evidence to the contrary and despite Daniel’s repeated warnings that things were very, very serious on both sides and I needed to run away, not edge closer.
The next semester, things got worse. He fired his existing student aide so that he could hire me in his place. This put me with him about 20-25 hours a week. I joined the student newspaper, of which he was head. We were both on a graphic and web design committee at the college. He stopped going home between classes if I was there. I stopped going home between classes if he was there. We would stay an hour or two past our last class and just be together, talking and working and talking.
Then, come February, we went on a photoshoot together for the class. He continued his warmth…even moreso. He would stare at me unashamedly from across the room, not looking away when I caught him. When we got back to the classroom, I knelt on the floor by my computer to hook up my portable hard drive to the console. While on my knees, sitting on my ankles and pulling my hair back so that I could see, I glanced over to see him sitting at his chair, staring at me – all of me - slack-jawed with a look of pure awe on his face, like he’d never seen a woman before. That very night, he gave me a brochure and asked me to go to a graphic design conference with him in Boston…a conference that lasted 3 days and 3 nights.
All of these things continued. I’ve told you all about them before. Peter sliding his arm around me, pulling me tight to him at graduation while whispering in my ear that he might have work for me if I wanted to meet with him the following week. The email I got over that summer, telling me that he had an entire day open if I wanted to meet with him. We started leaving covert IM away messages for each other, letting each other know where we were. We ran into each other at the mall twice – once when my mom was with me, and she finally realized the gravity of the situation. I’d tried to tell her, but she didn’t understand until she saw how he looked at me. The last night I saw him before going to BJU, when he held me tenderly, then held onto my hips with his mere inches away, staring at me imploringly.
My friends…
I am not crazy.
I was afraid of him and the liberties he took. But I liked his attention and found him extremely sexually alluring. And that terrified me about me. And I was confused as to why I even liked him since he was 9 years older than me, my teacher, an atheist, and already had a girlfriend. And I kept coming back to, “No, it’s all in my head, I’m making this up, it’s not happening.” And on and on and on it went. It was never resolved. I’ve had 3 guys tell me that I wasn’t insane, that it actually happened, and part of me still doesn’t believe it. And I don’t believe that he was abusing his position…but if he wasn’t, I don’t know what else was happening. Nothing has ever been resolved in my head…or in my heart for that matter.
This man wanted me. And, I suspect from his actions at the AIGA Club meeting last week, wants me still, though to a lesser degree.
And I still wrestle with that. He’s the first man I was ever sexually attracted to. And I don’t want him anymore, but I still fear whatever control he may have over me. And I still wonder if I was crazy. Am crazy.
But maybe bringing this into the light…maybe…maybe I’m not alone.
Yes, my husband knows all of this. After talking it out with my friend and being able to articulate things for the first time in over 3 years, I was finally able to explain to Gary exactly why I was so terrified of being alone with Peter. Or anywhere with Peter, frankly. I don’t trust him. I don’t trust myself. Gary assures me that he trusts me, but he will accompany me to all events where Peter will be present in order to be my physical safe harbor.
I hope this whole thing hasn’t come across too…I don’t know. I love Gary with all of my heart. I couldn’t be happier with him. I do not want to be with Peter in any way, shape, or form. I think…I think…I think he abused his position of authority over me, and reaped the benefits of my attack six months prior to our meeting. I always tried to carefully control my surroundings after the attack, but at the same time I gave up in some areas. I didn’t tell people no anymore, because I didn’t think they would listen. I believed that my body was up for grabs for anyone who wanted it, and I’d just have to grit my teeth and bear it. And…and…he took advantage of that. Without ever committing to anything, without ever speaking about our relationship.
I don’t think there’s a proper way to end this. Be gentle with me, friends.
I am so sorry Stitch. He definitely abused his authority, sinned against you, and took advantage of someone who was very vulnerable. You didn’t bring this on yourself. People like him find people who are vulnerable and take advantage of them. I would be surprised if you were the only one. My prayers are with you and may Jesus be your healer.
Thank you. I have such a hard time admitting that…well, that anything happened and that he may not be a great guy. He’s genuinely fun to be with and usually nice…but the more I think about what happened and hear feedback from objective parties…the more I realize how manipulative and dangerous he was. Thank you for speaking truth into my life (I need it in muddled cases like this!) and thanks for your prayers. Greatly appreciated.
It kinda sounds like grooming to me. This wasn’t consensual. He was touching you even when you gave clear non-verbal cues that you were not consenting to be touched, and in fact disliked it. He was also in a position of power and it would have been wrong to try to initiate a romantic/sexual relationship even if you had straight up told him you wanted to have sex with him the second he walked into class. And it seems like he probably had full knowledge of what he was doing re: pulling you in physically and emotionally. Trust your gut about its fear. He obviously doesn’t respect your “yes” (this looks nothing like ‘enthusiastic consent’/'yes means yes’), and you probably have a pretty good idea of whether he would respect your “no.”
…you’re right. I kind of did a double-take when you said “this wasn’t consensual.” I still feel guilty for “letting” it happen, though I suspect I let it happen as much as I let my sexual assault happen (and I still feel guilty about that, too).
Looking back…he should have been much higher up on my Schrodinger’s Rapist scale than he was. Probably partly because I was raised to respect and trust authority – not necessarily without question, but I felt I had no reason to question.
i see now some of why you recognized my story.
you are most assuredly NOT crazy about this.
this guy is BAD NEWS. no respect for boundaries whatsoever. clearly, this man is not socially inept. which means that he saw your cues about your physical boundaries. and then he ran right over them. because he wanted to. it didn’t matter to him what you wanted.
and as he did this over and over and over again, eventually, you let him gain ground and relaxed your physical boundaries with him. and your emotional ones.
what a master manipulator! he praised you, exalted you to draw you to him. his praise gave him power over you, because it felt good! of course! it would to anyone. but you were hurting and vulnerable and unsure of your own merit as an artist. he was a professor. his opinion mattered; he knew what he was talking about. so a complement from him meant something. and he knew that.
anyone would respond to those complements, but someone that had just suffered what you did? that had so many people question her, and was questioning herself? of course you would rise to the bait even faster! and it felt good to hear them, so you wanted more and more time with him.
because even though you knew something was wrong, he still offered something to you that others did not. he made you feel special, not just as an artist, but as a woman.
and maybe those of us that have been victimized before…well, maybe we really do seek out and respond to those that are dangerous, those that would hurt us. because we recognize it, or because we think deep down maybe we don’t deserve any better, or maybe we don’t know what healthy looks like yet. i know that all of those were part of why i put with with the crap i did for so long.
but i have learned this, and i pray that others would learn this lesson from the mistakes of others, and not have to learn it the hard way: PEOPLE THAT DO NOT RESPECT YOUR PERSONAL BOUNDARIES ARE DANGEROUS. period. they are not to be trusted. AND PEOPLE THAT WILL NOT RESPECT YOUR EMOTIONAL BOUNDARIES WILL PROBABLY NOT RESPECT YOUR PHYSICAL BOUNDARIES EITHER. think about that. what’s the bigger violation? your body or your soul?
it doesn’t matter what your boundaries are, they are to be respected, because everyone deserves the right to determine their own boundaries, their own limits. be they personal space, emotional intimacy, spiritual intimacy, physical intimacy. each person gets to say what their boundaries are, and they should always be respected. romans 14 outlines this concept so well.
anyway…i think i’m going to successfully complete NaNoWriMo in your comments alone! ;)
Shit. I hate reading this. I hate reading all of these comments. I want to believe that nothing happened.
But I can’t keep believing that everything was okay, can I?
Like I said to Naomi…he should have been so much further up on my Schrodinger’s Rapist scale than he was…but you’re right. He was a master manipulator and he knew exactly how to pull me in. And me being married hasn’t stopped him from inviting me to his birthday party, or asking me to go out with him sometime to catch up, or giving me a lingering embrace last week. He still doesn’t respect boundaries.
(hug) I’m both glad and sad that I’m not alone in this. I wish stuff like this never happened. And I feel so stupid for letting it happen and not recognizing it. And yet…it was orchestrated in such a way as to not allow me to call proper attention to it, in a way that would make me constantly second-guess what was happening.
I think I’m done thinking about it for now…have been mulling it over and over for the past two weeks.
You’re an awesome friend, you know that? And I’m totally okay with having your NaNoWriMo comments on my blog :)
you can stop thinking about it. you can put it away and leave it there. that’s OK. you get to decide, all right? :)
i just want you to know that i wrestled too with “how could i be so stupid? why didn’t i see this? why did i let this happen? i’m not the kind of girl that takes abuse–physical or emotional! could i be that kind of girl?”
it wasn’t my fault. my opponent was far more skilled than i was, far more practiced. he preyed on me with such finesse as to never appear the predator. i’m glad for the lesson. i pray that i won’t make the mistake again.
but i am DONE blaming myself. i never set out to deceive or use him. i didn’t see him as a pawn in my ego-boosting game. i didn’t violate his personal boundaries. he did those things to me. HE must bear the responsibility for that.
you aren’t to blame either. *hugs*
Hmmm. My response may be a little bit different than others here but I’m going to respond anyway since I know a thing or two about overwhelming sexual attraction. It’s part of the reason I divorced my first husband and married my second after all.
From what I’m reading here, you were a virgin and inexperienced and for the first time in your life, you found yourself attracted to someone. My guess is that it went beyond mere physical. There are a bunch of people I have found in life that I would enjoy having sex with. There have only been two that I felt so drawn to that just to be in their presence was intoxitating. If it was like that for you, then forgive yourself. It happens. It’s nothing that you can control. That kind of attraction is impossible to manage without experience. I also want to say that it sounds like he may also have been drawn to you in the same way. If he was, I wouldn’t go so far as to call him a preditor. Maybe he was, I don’t know. But maybe he had never experienced feeling that way over someone either. Maybe he didn’t know how to handle it. Anyway, considering your worldviews are entirely different, to fault him for not getting your boundaries might be a little harsh. Of course he doesn’t get your boundaries. He’s an atheist. Normally, they think about sexuality completely differently than we do. You would have to spell it out for him if you want him to “get” it.
Now what to do about the present. If you are still attracted to him when you see him and believe that he may still be attracted to you, then do exactly what you stated you were going to do. Avoid seeing him if you possibly can and when you can’t, make sure your husband is with you at all times. Guard your mind, too. If you find yourself fantisizing about him, purposely think of something else. Don’t try to overanalyze it. It only makes you dwell on it even more. That’s hard, especially for introverts (and I am one, exactly what you are on Meyers Briggs), but it’s vital. Physical starts with the body, but once the mind is involved (and it sounds like it went there for you two), it’s pretty much impossible to withstand. My guess is the only reason you didn’t succomb was because sexuality at that point in your life made you uncomfortable.
Anyway, just my two cents. Again, to berate yourself for not forseeing this and not doing anything to “stop” it is futile. Your first visceral attraction normally catches you by surprise and once in the middle of one, it’s like trying to pull out of a tidal wave. You’ll better know the signs next time and can avoid it if it’s unwelcome. By the way, I’m glad to hear your husband was your second one. There”s nothing better than to be married to someone who makes your heart sing. Good luck.
I sort of understand what you’re saying. The cues I was giving had nothing to do with my moral boundaries on sex and everything to do with I just did not want to be touched, period. And I communicated that the best way that I knew how – pulling violently away and staring at him in a mix of fear and shock. And he noticed that I did this every time – and he kept touching me anyway. Like I said, though…it didn’t enter my mind that I could actually verbally say no. I thought I had no choice – that if he wanted to touch me then he was going to touch me, no matter how uncomfortable or frightened it made me feel. And that panned out until I could actually distinguish his touch from the touch of someone else and knew not to flinch because it just kept happening.
The overwhelming feeling I had towards him the first year was fear mixed with distrust. It was in the third semester that I realized there was a sexual attraction between us. You’re right – I was a virgin, totally inexperienced. And I honestly thought that there had to be something spiritually lacking within me for me to have any sort of sexual urges – while I was never taught explicitly that women don’t think about or enjoy sex, I certainly got that message loud and clear. I’m not sure from where. But I felt deeply guilty that I was sexually attracted to him…it was emotionally and mentally tormenting because I still didn’t trust him and I was still afraid of him.
Towards the end of my last semester with him, when I finally started going back to Bible study at Daniel’s insistence, I ran into Peter unawares. It was the Bible study group’s custom to go to Denny’s for food and fellowship after the meeting was over on Thursdays. I pulled into the parking lot and saw Peter’s car there. I started hyperventilating and shaking, tears threatening to pour down my face. I texted Daniel, and waited for him by the doorway. When he got there, he came over and stared at me for a few moments. “This is not the Jo that I know,” he said with a bit of alarm. “Joanna, the Ice Princess, who never lets her emotions show…you’re shaking. You’re terrified. It’s written all over your face. This is not normal for you.” I begged him not to leave my side. He agreed without question…I think he knew there were things going on that I didn’t understand and couldn’t explain. I couldn’t breathe normally until Peter left half an hour later. Even at the peak of my desire for him, I was terrified of being near him.
All that to say…he may have been drawn to me similarly to how I was drawn to him. But he repeatedly disregarded my obvious discomfort to his physical pursuit of me and spent more time with me than with his girlfriend (which should have upset me more than it did at the time). I never felt safe with him. Whatever his inward emotions were…he went about showing them in the wrong way, in a way that made me afraid to say no to him. I never gave any sort of consent for any physical intimacy between us…I was simply silent from fear and the lack or realization that I could say no.
I don’t really know if I’m still attracted to him. I still feel the same confusion that I felt when I was his student, though much more stabilized since I see him rarely and I’m happily married. For me, I think the confusion and fear comes from still not understanding the relationship we had or didn’t have. But I’m starting to come to peace with it.
I was reading over something I wrote and wanted to add to it if it’s okay. In regards to him not getting your boundaries, it’s also perfectly plausible that he did and just didn’t feel like respecting them. But it might not be because he was abusing his position (at least knowingly). It might be because he thought your boundaries were stupid. Atheists don’t think Christians have a leg to stand on. He doesn’t respect your beliefs and his pursuing you may be his form of evangelizing if that makes any sense. Anyway, just something else I thought of.
I actually really agree with this as far as thinking that my boundaries (non-physical) were stupid. He got nervous the less time we spent together, and more relaxed the more time we spent together. If his pursuit of me had been “only” emotional, I could have understood a little more (though I think I would still be just as confused and upset and afraid). It was his refusal to respect my physical boundaries that deadened me on the inside to accept his touch while my fear of him because of this lack of respect grew. I have a hard time being okay with anyone who thinks that they can touch me without my consent.
Yeah I get that. I also get how scary physical attraction can be to someone who for whatever reason feels it is wrong. Especially when you’re physically attracted to someone you know you’re not supposed to be. As far as not getting your cues, who the hell knows what he was thinking. If they were as obvious as you say they were (and I’m sure they were), then he should have pulled back. Period. His complete fault for not doing so regardless of whether he was “evangelizing” or just couldn’t help himself (my guess is some of both). Hopefully he’s grown as a person now and wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
The first person I had an intense attraction to, I didn’t act on. We were together one summer on an internship during college and I saw him only twice after that (one time as his request, the other time at mine). The reasons I didn’t act on it don’t matter here. I’m not particularly sorry for it although I do think upon it every once in a while and I wonder what would have happened if I had pursued him instead of staying with who ended up being my ex-husband. I’m saying that because it’s now 17 years later. 17 years later and this non-relationship still crosses my mind even though I have been very happily married now for quite a few years. You don’t forget those kind of feelings, the confusion that comes with them, the draw you had to explore them, especially if you are a person who thrives on emotions. It makes it worse when you can’t talk to the person who generated those feelings in you. After all, you need his side in order to get the whole picture. I imagine it also makes it worse when the experience is tramautizing. My experience wasn’t but I know your’s was for reasons that I can’t comprehend since I’ve never struggled with my sexuality (I’ve struggled in tons of other areas that has affected my life adversely but not that). All that to say that I don’t know if you will ever understand exactly what happened. You can probably understand why it affected you like it did though (and it sounds to me like you already have a pretty good grasp on that). Have you started exploring though why someone crossing your personal boundaries affects you like it does? I know you were assaulted and it was awful but I wonder if some of your aversion existed before that. And please, please forgive me for being personal. I know you have no idea who I am but please know there is no judgement whatsoever for what you feel or have felt or will feel.
I haven’t felt judgment from you, and I’m totally okay with being personal. :) It’s good to hear varying input. I appreciate it.
A big part of it really was the struggle with sexuality, you’re right – I really thought that being sexually attracted to someone was wrong, that it was lust. I realize now that it’s not. But at the time I didn’t know. And my feelings about sexuality were confused as a result of my assault, as well. (TMI alert) Even now I occasionally become absolutely wracked with guilt because I think my sex drive is “too high” when really…it’s just that I HAVE a sex drive, and sometimes even as a happily married woman I feel that I should not crave my husband the way I do. But even that is confused because I crave him but fear that I’ll have another panic attack. We’re working on all that, though. It just really, really sucks and messes with my mind.
Thanks for your blog-friendship, by the way. It means a lot.
You know, in a way, I understand where you’re coming from. One of my stalkers ended up doing very much the same thing. He had a weird past that only my mother (who was made to promise not to tell anyone else) and a former pastor know about. He never actually assaulted me, but he did take liberties in touching me that I would not have given if asked. But I let him, even though it bothered me, simply because that was a hard time in my life. I didn’t feel like anyone loved me or cared about me, and I certainly wasn’t worth anything to anybody. I also felt like no one would ever marry me or enjoy sex with me. He gave me the time of day and complemented me highly, something I’d only had once before, and that from my first stalker. Should I have known better? Yes. But the part of me that needed reassurance that I was ok as a human being needed the affirmation all three of my stalkers gave me. And, as crazy as it may sound to you for me to admit this, it all started because a child I was babysitting touched me very inappropriately because he’d seen his dad touch his mom, and I couldn’t work past it. I still have a hard time with it. Probably just because of the way he touched me, and the arousal it brought that I have never been able to pull away from. Laugh if you feel like it, but that’s the honest truth.
(Pardon any misspellings or grammar errors. I don’t want to reread this.)
Not laughing at all. I think sometimes things are harder to get over when we can reason them away in our heads (“he was just a little kid, he didn’t know what he was doing” – or, for me, “he was handicapped and I can’t be 100% sure he knew what he was doing”). And when we’re working through something like that…it makes us much easier targets.
(hug)
As a teenager, I held beliefs about sex similar to the ones you had. The stuff you’ve said about Peter reminds me of something I wrote on my (friends-locked) journal a little over two years ago about three guys I’d known and what I’d learned from them. Here are the most relevant, least identifying sections:
Guy #2 is a man I had a brief fling with during the summer of 2008. I’d been crushing on him for a couple of years and a close mutual friend let the info slip to him, which resulted in him asking me out. It lasted less than two weeks, I think because he realized he didn’t want to be in a relationship, but I had a ton of fun while it lasted. He’s intelligent, caring, and serious eye candy, but one of the most notable things about that relationship for me was how good he was with boundaries. He never pressured me to do anything. He’d initiate something, maybe initiate something more if I’d clearly been enjoying what we were doing for awhile, and then go back to the original activity with no complaints if I felt like the new activity was too much. He responded eagerly, without reluctance, to both “yes” and “no”, and if something had gotten a “no” at one point, he wouldn’t initiate it again until very clearly invited to do so. Sexually, the relationship moved way, WAY faster than with any guy I’d dated previously, but that was my idea at least as much as it was his. I felt safe with him and I knew I could trust him, because he was so responsive both to “yes” and to “no”. He is my benchmark for how I want guys to handle sexual boundaries with me in the future. I know now that there are guys who are both eager and self-controlled, that I don’t have to have one or the other or someone who alternates between the two. I know now that when a man is really treating a woman right, he doesn’t try to cajole her into changing her boundaries–he takes what she says to heart, and doesn’t bring it up again unless there’s reason to think things have changed.
Guy #3 is, well…a creepster. I’m sorry to say I forgot some of the things I learned from Guy #2 when I was dealing with him. I should have remembered that a guy who’s getting it right does not badger or cajole. A guy who’s getting it right responds to “no” with acceptance and with an eager apology for any prior violation of the boundary. A guy who’s getting it right is sensitive to the needs of the woman he is with, and when he’s not sure what nonverbal signals she’s sending, asks. Guy #3 did not get things right–in fact, he got them spectacularly WRONG.
He went out of his way to be nice to me in almost every respect, to the point where I trusted him and thought he was a good friend for awhile. But there was creepy shit going on. He stayed over at my apartment after a game in the spring, because I was depressed and wanted hugs. Well, the hugs turned into an evening of highly sexually charged talk, which I went along with because I thought it might be a beneficial exercise in boundary stretching for me, but was decidedly his idea and not something I was truly comfortable with. He made it pretty clear that he wanted to have sex with me. He also offered to share my bed that night, due to my depression and loneliness–but warned me that if he did so, he’d probably end up sleep-groping me. And he badgered and pressured me to let him sleep in my bed nonetheless. I didn’t give in, but I probably should have kicked him out of the house and never talked to him after that, and I didn’t do that either.
I did eventually send him a Facebook message telling him I didn’t want to talk about sex with him anymore, to which he didn’t reply. I was annoyed, didn’t do anything about it, didn’t see him for a few months, met up with him at a party, and was invited to come over to his place one afternoon. That afternoon, I brought up the subject of a Facebook status post he’d made that had some major sexual TMI, and of course, he steered the conversation in directions other than letting me tell him the post was inappropriate. Then, despite my prior Facebook message, he insisted on telling me about a “play party” (i.e. sex party) that he’d been invited to and describing the previous ones he’d been to. I was visibly flinching from discomfort, but I was too blindsided by the boundary violation to tell him to stop. After I left, I was really torn about what to do. He had been really nice to me and made considerable effort to respect my needs in every area other than sex, and I was very lonely (and on shitty birth control that was making me more emotional). I was confused by the contrast between his disrespect about sex and his respect about everything else. So when I left his place, we were talking about making plans to get together again, but the more I thought things over afterwards, the more I realized that him telling me about the “play party” after my explicitly asking him not to talk to me about sex really bothered me. So I sent him the following email:
“PLEASE don’t tell me about stuff like that “play party” or discuss things like that Facebook update with me. I know I mentioned the Facebook update, but I meant to tell you that it was way too much information. Detailed discussion of sexual stuff like that makes me really uncomfortable, and I find it really disrespectful that you decided to do that again after the Facebook message I sent you a few months ago about not talking about sex any more. I enjoyed most of the time I spent with you yesterday, but I would like to be able to hang out with you without you bringing up stuff that you know I am not going to be comfortable talking about.”
His response? NOTHING. Dead air.
Two and a half weeks later, I finally emailed him again. I forwarded him the original message, and said, “You still owe me a response to this email message. At least acknowledge that you read it, even if you don’t have enough respect for me to actually start respecting my boundaries. ”
His reply: “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable; you didn’t seem uncomfortable at the time, and, as you said, you raised the topic. Something I’m surprised you haven’t learned from the accessibility department by now: righteous indignation is not a good way to make people care about what you’re trying to say.”
Yeah. Seriously not cool. That sort of insult completely voids a token apology, which was obviously all this was.
I sent back two emails: “You know, usually friendship is a good enough reason for people to care about what each other are trying to say.” And then, “Also, anyone not on the autism spectrum (and some people on it) would have noticed that I was visibly flinching while you talked about the play party. You’ve shown your lack of respect for me and my boundaries; you are no longer welcome in my home. ”
I had mixed feelings about ending my friendship with him. Part of me wondered if I’d overreacted and thrown away a good friend lightly. My doubt went away when I saw his response: “Fair enough. If you ever change your mind and feel like discussing things without being so combative about it, I’ll accept an apology. As I don’t expect to be getting one, though, enjoy your loneliness.” This, two weeks after I’d been nearly crying on his shoulder about being lonely. What a low blow.
The more I think about it afterwards, the more it scares me that I didn’t see the signs sooner. I’ve talked with a couple of friends about it, and this guy has a significant history of doing creepy shit to other girls too, though I don’t have a lot of specifics. I should have thrown him out of the house after he tried to get me to let him sleep-grope me, and never talked to him again. At least, I think I should have. I honestly do think this guy is capable of sexual assault, maybe even rape, and it scares me that I let myself be fooled by his niceness outside the sexual arena. A friend gave me a good guideline for figuring out the difference between the good discomfort that comes with stretching your comfort zone and the bad discomfort that comes from having people pressure you to do things you don’t want: “The former kind is the kind you put yourself into, and the latter is the kind that others put you into.” I need to remember that. If I find myself involved in a sexual situation that was not at least half my idea, I need to be very, very wary.
I think I really need to always remember the lessons I learned from Guy #2 as well. When I pushed my boundaries with him, it felt GOOD. There wasn’t the uncertainty that I’ve experienced in other situations–just sheer glee. I knew I wanted to do the things I was doing, and I felt completely safe and comfortable saying if something was too much, because I knew that if I said that it would always be respected. Stretching myself sexually should not be this tangle of uncertainty where I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into and I’m scared, I don’t think. It should be something that I had just as much agency in choosing as the other person did, and something that I truly WANT to do–that I would want to do even if the guy was not asking me to do it. I need to remember this, and I need to improve my creep-dar and act on it a HELL of a lot faster.
……..
Looking back at that post, it’s hard to believe it was only a little over two years ago that I wrote it. I was a virgin then. I’m living with my boyfriend now. I have no regrets about abandoning my old beliefs about sex. It’s just weird to think of how much has changed so fast.
Comparing what happened with you and Peter to my own experiences: Peter reminds me a lot of guy #3, with the juxtaposition of apparent kindness with boundary violation. I realize now that I probably underestimated how dangerous guy #3 was. Looking back with a more experienced and more impartial eye, I think if I’d let him sleep in my bed, he would almost certainly have sexually assaulted me and quite likely raped me. It was one of the most dangerous situations I have ever been in.
The way you felt about Peter–not the fear, but the attraction–reminds me of how I felt about guy #2. I’m not sure if I’ve ever felt quite that level of intense, visceral lust towards anyone before or since. To have the heady intoxication of that feeling combined with the person seriously violating your boundaries would mess with anyone’s head. It’s taboo to be attracted to someone who violates your boundaries, even in progressive circles, so it makes total sense that you would feel ashamed. But sexual attraction and sexual violation are both very messy things that don’t like to fit into the boxes people try to put them in, and I wish you well in coming to terms with that.