When Kobe Bryant was accused and charged with rape I was pretty sure he'd done it. When details of the accuser's sexual and mental history appeared in the media I was certain of it. When the case was dropped I wanted to go after that motherfucker with a shotgun.
Women always seem the get fucked (it's not a pun, it's angry sarcasm) in public rape cases. I get so angry I can't think straight. Guilty or not, some guy needs to get nailed to a door at some point.
Well, I don't really think that, but I feel it. At the time of the Bryant incident I felt it very acutely.
It also made me think about consent. I started thinking about sexual experiences from the perspectives of the different participants.
Sometimes rape is clear-cut, intimidation, threats, violence, bruises, wounds, broken bones. Sometimes it's obvious to everyone but the poor stupid fuck who is doing it that having sex with someone's unconscious body is not ok. Sometimes people are confused about what sex is. Is a dick in a mouth sex? Even very well-educated people appear to have trouble with that. If fellatio (I can't call it oral sex because it's kind of obvious that it's sex because it has sex in the name), as Bill Clinton appeared to imply, is not sex, can someone rape you by putting a penis in your mouth? If penis in mouth is not sex, then there you go, a free-for-all hole.
Then, there is poor Julian Assange who just wanted to go bareback, (and who can blame him, condoms take away all that skin on skin sensitivity). Is that rape? It's definitely some sort of violation to slip the condom off before your slip the dick in; a bit like your doc slipping the plastic glove off before sticking his fingers up your bum the squeeze your prostate. You consented to the penetration, but under a particular condition. Is that rape?
Then it gets more complicated.
When I was in college I was completed dimwitted in many ways. Alcohol was the only thing that took away that overwhelming sense of underachievement (over, under, in, out). I drank a lot and often. I figured out how to get home while barely conscious. I got so damn good at it that I navigated black outs unscathed weekly.
Before I developed this skill I, one night, found myself, very drunk, at school after the subway had stopped running. A guy offered to drive me home. I agreed, reluctantly. I knew what the implied agreement was: a lift for sex.
You may say, "hey, stop! You're not required to have sex with a guy that gives you a lift."
True. There is the whole tit(!) for tat thing, though. The whole not obliged thing is somewhat academic unless someone impresses upon you that lift is less than sex, way way the fuck less, that a more reasonable exchange might be buying the dude a coffee.
No one had impressed that upon me. We got to the place where I rented a room; I took him upstairs and lay passive as he did his thing. The next day I shooed him out before anyone noticed he'd been there.
At school he was all familiar, flirty, completely unaware that what has happened between us was not the start of a great love affair.
I ignored him. I couldn't look at him. I kind of hated him I raw unfamiliar way. He was confused, I could tell, but I had no words for what had happened nor any way in which to console him or myself. I just shut myself off and pretended nothing had happened.
After a while he gave up on trying to talk to me. I don't know what conclusion he came to, maybe it was still a positive sexual experience to him, maybe it wasn't.
This wasn't a consensual sexual experience but it wasn't rape. It was a debt incurred and made good on.
It's the kind of thing that happens when someone buys you dinner and considers it a downpayment on intercourse. It's worse if you agree.
The weird bit is the difference in perception. He thought we'd had sex, that I'd enjoyed it and that I liked him. I just lay there mute, passive, thinking I deserved it for being so damn stupid. He didn't notice, I didn't tell him, and he figured we were in love.
Nothing simple about that.
Under some laws you have to be a woman, you have to say no, and you have to physically fight in order for a rape to take place.
Under some laws you just have to lie about wearing a condom.
WTF happened in that hotel-room between Bryant and his accuser? Was she a fan unable to extricate herself from a situation she realized she didn't want to participate in? Did he hold her down and force himself into her? Did he leave that room honestly unaware that she had been an unwilling participant?
I should ask if she lied, if she lied because she bitterly regretted having sex, but I won't because it's a stupid trope. I am sure it happens, just like I am sure that some prostitutes does it for the sex and some porn stars aren't faking orgasms.
What's going on with sex, with consent and with rape is not simple. We need to sort it out somehow. Laws can't do it because what happens, what you feel, is inside of you.
It's clear that the baboon man unable to restrain himself thing isn't helpful, nor the regretful slut thing. Or the "men are being falsely accused of rape left and right" thing.
Perhaps we need EULAs. To fuck, I sign yours, you sign mine. There should also be a mandatory 48 hour waiting period followed by a trans something ultrasound. In for s penny in for a pound.
That kind of thing.
I am still fucking angry, though. I want to nail someone to a wall a shoot him. Because when push comes to shove he can push me over.