Your Masculinity Is Making You An Asshole

She had just broken up with her boyfriend, who was the roommate of my best bud. I remember the first time I saw her, I out rightly confessed, in private of course, how smitten I was with her, how I couldn’t stop myself from being attracted to her. I knew she wasn’t available and was in a relationship, I respected that fact too, saying that my reaching out to her wasn’t a proposal but only a confession.

Fast forward. She broke up with her then partner. Three days after her break up I was at her place. She talked about how if more women accepted the idea of being slutty the world would be a better place. She said that she loved sex. I was apprehensive because I didn’t want to be a rebound, plus, I really liked who she was as a person, and I genuinely wanted to get intimate with her, not just kinky. Despite that, a more carnal, guy side of me was telling me not to think so much and just go for it. Come on. She wanted to fuck. She had said explicitly. But somehow, I said no.

This was something that almost freaked her out.

I realised she was suddenly uneasy when I suggested that it was the first time we are seeing each other. I genuinely wanted for us to just stay up all night, talking and knowing each other. I simply said that I wasn’t there for just sex.

She said she wanted to be a slut.

I saw a single tear falling down from right eye, I moved closer and hugged her and she simply broke down and that is when she started to confess..

She talked about of being sexually abused by her own father which set in place a very violent, and tumultuous view of sex for her.

She said she wanted to be a slut. I asked why? And she said because it gives her power. Every relationship, every fling, every one-night stand was just a repetition of performance. She loved when she caught men off guard with her blatant sexual advances. She did that the first time when she was 14 and it was her school PT teacher. For her that was not only a way to exert power but also an incentive for them to stay.

At that moment I asked her why she had gone out to do the same with me? Do you really enjoy going down on men as you had repeatedly told me? Did you really like fulfilling their depraved fantasies to feel a sense of accomplishment.

But I don’t know what else to do. She said.

I hugged her tight.

I told her I didn’t want any of that, what I felt for her, I didn’t want it to become a part of a long list of sexually manipulative instances. She told me that this had happened for the first time that a man was choosing to stay out of concern and care, and not out of the need of completing a sexual transaction.

I bumped into her ex-boyfriend. Somehow, he knew that I had spent a night with her. He asked me how was the sex like. He went far enough to tell me to keep all my emotions and just enjoy her. “She’s got issues man, she’d do anything in bed”, keep your feelings aside and let your libido shine. “I’m going to miss all that kinky sex man”

“But I don’t know what else to do.”

None of the men wanted to know her. None of them wanted to get involved. None of them wanted to engage with her as a person. None of them tried to talk and just understand where she was coming from. As long has her trauma promised them un-hinged sex, they didn’t give a fuck.

As long has her trauma promised them un-hinged sex, they didn’t give a fuck.

All of this came together to create a crisis of faith for me and made me question who I am as a man. Is this what it has come to? I was disappointed with us, the men, and I still am. Knowing that this is not some special occurrence, and that such scenarios are far from being a few; there are numerous instances of such violent toxic masculinity, that I’ve often cringed to the fact that I have a dick.

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