A good article on campus sexual violence insanity in which I am quoted – Ego? What ego? What are you talking about?

30 Sep

college fix



My response to Joseph Gordon-Levitt on what feminism means to me

28 Sep

Many thanks to @Bremstone who did the editing on this one for me.



I’m gonna repost this because I still find it hilarious: HYPOTHESIS: it’s only rape if he doesn’t fall in love

26 Sep



So I’m gathering up stories about one night stands, trying to determine if there is any merit to my hypothesis that it’s only rape when he doesn’t fall under Princess’s spell.


Here’s what I found.


bed post


Story Number One

No author identified.


A drunken hookup leads to second drunken hookup leads to long term love.


My senior year of college, after completing the first issue of the school paper, of which I was editor-in-chief, I hosted a party for the staff in my apartment. Afterwards, we all decamped to the student center in a boozy haze.

Then, one small, innocuous thing changed my life forever: I had to go to the bathroom. On my way back, I ran into this scruffy guy from my English class, or, as I should’ve known him, my fiction editor, the only member of my staff I forgot to invite to my party. I stopped him and apologized. We ended up chatting for awhile: minute one, his hand was on the edge of the railing of the wheelchair ramp I was resting on but by minute thirty, it was around my waist.

There are lots of articles denigrating one night stands, encouraging people to go for them but insisting that they not fall in love. Well, I didn’t fall in love with my one-night stand: I fell in love with the guy who asked if he could stay and make me breakfast that first night, who invited me over to his room to chat later that week, who genuinely seemed interested in my summer internship, and who took me out on a date and thought I was cute and a little clumsy when I was really just drunk (don’t pre-game dates, guys).




Okay, so drunk on the way to the bathroom, he has his hands around her waist and it leads to sex.


I know you want it

I hate these blurred lines….



And if he had never called her again?




From the Date Rape Fact Sheet:


Bottom line, if a girl is intoxicated she cannot consent to sex and you could be charged with rape. It does not matter whether you knew she was intoxicated, it doesn’t matter if you were intoxicated too, all that matters is that she was not in a state of mind to consent and therefore it is rape.




So chicky above was raped not once, but twice.  Is her boyfriend technically a serial rapist?


Story Number Two

By Amanda Chatel (what is up with all these women named Amanda?)

But of my single friends who went through the one-night stand phase and came out on the other side to talk about it, there have actually been a few who made something real from that evening of drunken lust. While some ended in long-term relationships, a couple others (and I’m still mildly shocked by this), actually ended up in marriage.

Basically, a one-night stand doesn’t have to leave you entirely cold and lonely. Why? Because love exists and sometimes you can find it where you least expect it: next to some guy named Leonard, who’s missing all but one tooth and you don’t technically recall bringing home in the first place.

Love. It’s so fucking beautiful!



Erm, okay.  So black out drunk sex with a guy you don’t even remember bringing home is not rape when it leads to love?


And what if it didn’t? What if Leonard pulled on his pants and bailed without so much as a “see ya later!”?


Then what?


call 911


Story Number Three

By Monica Beyer (about someone named Meredith)


[Meredith] took a job doing manual labor installing hardwood floors and spent her time off partying. “My professional and personal lives were very interconnected because my co-worker and boss lived below me, so we’d install floors all day, then hang out all night, drinking until 2 then getting up at 6 and doing it all over again,” she shared. “It was crazy. I drank and dated too much. It was a time of excess.”

On St. Patrick’s Day, they were hanging out together in downtown Honolulu drinking and having a wonderful time. “I remember I was wearing mint green skinny jeans and a fedora,” she shared. “Those were crazy days!”




The hookup led to pregnancy, which led eventually to marriage.


But it all started with drinking and excess.


And what if things hadn’t turned out that way?  What happens then?


Story Number Four

By Anonymous


I met him at the local dive bar; he was working behind it and I was drunk because of him (and not in the romantic sense). The night was fuzzy… But it was something about his hands. He definitely was never my type and still isn’t. He wore camo shorts and a nasty, ill-fitting Clockwork Orange t-shirt. My friends called him dirty so I went home with him, mainly because the sex was bound to be epic- it always is with the unkempt ones.


Yes, they ended up married.  He asked for her phone number and they took it from there.


What if he hadn’t?




Story Number Five

By Periel Aschenbrand

When a beautiful fashion designer embarked on a crazy year of one-night stands, the last person she expected to meet was the man of her dreams.

Devastated by the end of a ten-year romance, New Yorker Periel Aschenbrand, 37, picked up men in bars, turned into a bunny boiler when an ill-fated fling with her boss went wrong and had sex with a fireman who couldn’t string a sentence together outside the bedroom.

Then she got drunk at a cousin’s wedding, broke every rule in the dating-for-keeps book and embarked on what she assumed would be nothing more than a dirty weekend.




First comes alcohol,

Then comes oral,

Then comes marriage,

So what’s the moral?


Story Number Six

By Rose


The first time I had a real date with Chris, I knew it would be hard to resist him. I was already madly in love with him from some prior encounters, and I invited him over for dinner. I cooked him a real Sicilian meal, which I knew he would love, being that we are both Sicilian — lots of oranges, red onions, olives, garlic, not exactly the best set-up for good breath and romance, but the two bottles of wine I bought helped us forget anything bothersome.

Next month marks four years. We are engaged and more in love than ever.




What are to make of these stories?  How do we reconcile them with this:


As someone who was raped after a party, I often find myself falling for rape-apologist language. The guy that raped me would be most likely be horrified if I had accused him of rape. The guy that raped me is a good person. In fact, the guy that raped me was someone I found sexually attractive and had been flirting with for several weeks. I remember accepting his invitation for a ride home from a party.




You liked him. You found him attractive.  You got drunk.  You went with him willingly. You fucked him.  It didn’t end with chocolates and rainbows and a diamond ring.




Is that why it’s rape?


How do we make sense of this:


Okay, let’s get something straight here – INTOXICATION DOES NOT INDICATE CONSENT!  Whether you are a man, a woman, or transgender, if you are drunk, you cannot legally give consent.  Period.  Whether I am slightly tipsy and unsure or if I’m completely obliterated drunk and begging for it, any sexual contact that occurs while I’m so incoherent is deemed sexual assault by the majority of states in this country.




So all the ladies above are actually married to or in a relationship with their own rapists?


You know what?  Fuck this bullshit.  Fuck all of it.  And fuck women who think flinging their pussies at some hot guy on a first date SHOULD lead to love and marriage and a baby carriage.  Are you stupid?  Seriously.  What the fuck is wrong with you?


You don’t fuck anyone on a first date.  These aren’t even dates, for the most part!  And if you do, then you don’t get to wake up the next morning and scream rape when he puts you down in the gutter with all the other deluded sluts combing jizz out of their hair.




Have some fucking self-respect.  Have some fucking brains!  And if you can’t manage to do those things, then own your own shitty choices.


The odds of some man making you his Princess Forever after you deep-throated him on a 30 minute introduction are slim to fucking none.


How in the love of god is this NEWS?!?!?!


You know what I take away from these stories?  That women, despite all their protestations to the contrary, are deeply driven to bond with the men they have sex with.  There is no such thing as “casual sex” when it comes to women.




Rape is a tool women use to punish men for not feeling that same impulse to bond.  Not that men don’t want or feel compelled to bond with women, but that One Particular Man did not want to bond with HER.


And he will suffer for that.


And somehow, as a society, we can go to the wedding of dear friends who are getting married after a night of black-out drunk sex culminated in a bona fide relationship, and at the exact same time, donate money to RAINN to prosecute the men who had black out drunk sex that did NOT end with a tuxedo and a veil and fluffy white gown.




What the fuck!?!


I am now personally refusing to believe ANY woman with a “date rape” story.  Fuck off.  I stand by one of my earliest posts.  You weren’t raped.  You’re a whore.  Which is actually an insult to whores, who are the least likely to be deluded into thinking having sex 3 minutes after meeting will turn into a long term relationship.




The worst, the absolute worst thing about all of this is how real, actual victims of rape get painted with the same liar-liar brush as the delusional sluts.  This story makes my stomach churn.  It’s fucking terrible.




This last Tuesday, August 13 2013; three guys dragged me to an empty, grassy parking lot, and two of them took turns raping me.

After the first guy was done the second seemed reluctant to continue but the other guy egged him on, called him a pussy. By then it didn’t hurt as much.

Until they stuck something alien and sharp inside my anus. The lady who did my rape kit said she wasn’t sure what it was. I still bleed when I use the toilet.

I have no hope of ever getting justice. I have no hope of ever feeling like myself again. There are moments when I seem OK, I can joke with a friend or my boyfriend, I can go and run an errand. Then I flash back. And then the crying starts. And I can’t breathe. And I remember this is my life from now on.




You know why the attackers will never be caught?  You can thank all the drunk, stupid, clueless tramps screeching rape when he doesn’t text the next morning, backed up by your favorite ideology: feminism.


This needs to change. Date rape is not a thing. The conversation needs to comes to a screeching halt. And in the meanwhile, I think one of the smartest things any man can do is ask.  Ask the lady you are with if she has ever been raped. Listen to her story very carefully.  And get ready to run!




You may not be the first man she can punish for failing to call the next day, but you sure as hell can be next.


Don’t be.


Don’t fuck a woman you don’t plan on ever seeing again.  Unless you’ve handed her a wad of cold hard cash.  At least you know she understands the deal.




And all in all, it’s a pretty good one. Take it from Steve Martin.


“I believe that sex is one of the most beautiful, natural, wholesome things that money can buy.”

― Steve Martin


So buy it.  The price of mistaking a drunk woman as an adult capable of making her own decisions is way too high.


Lots of love,





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