Mina Button's blog

kink and feminism and stuff…formerly known as Absinthe Cocktail.

Little Things (content note: sex and questionable consent)

I’m pretty sure I got drugged at a party once.  Someone I thought was my friend offered to buy me a drink, and I politely declined, saying that I didn’t like to drink and play.  He offered a taste of his, and I took several sips, drank maybe about a quarter of a glass of wine in total?  The rest of the night was kind of a euphoric blur, much more so than a third of a glass of wine should have made it.  I was giggly and compliant and my pain tolerance was way higher than usual.  I found out later that a friend of mine was drugged the same night.  But still, I’m only pretty sure.  And even if I was certain, what would I do about it?

And then there was the time, at another party, I thought that guy was asking if he could use toys on me, maybe do some impact play, but when I said yes he started fingering me really aggressively.  He eventually paused and looked up and asked “Is this okay?” but I was naked in his lap with his fingers in me and I didn’t really know if it was okay or not, but it was already happening so I figured it had better be okay, so I said “yes.”  I mean, that was an uncomfortable situation, and I don’t like to think about it very much, but I did say yes.

There was the person who randomly initiated scenes with no prior negotiation and no established D/s dynamic, which freaked me out so badly I had a mild panic attack.  But when I talked to them about it, I ended up feeling like a huge asshole for being uncomfortable and talking about it, and I was so painfully new to all this that I had no idea how to even express all the discomfort I was feeling and why.  I kind of ended up feeling like my feelings were all my fault for not being able to roll with the punches.

There were the times I had sex when I really didn’t want to, or found myself in a situation where I had to re-negotiate in the middle of something and said “yes” to things that I wasn’t sure about which made me feel awful when they actually happened but I didn’t think I could say “stop.”

I didn’t really want to write about this.  I don’t really want to post it, and I don’t want to re-read it or think about these things again.  But I kind of can’t stop thinking about some of them (though others I’ve buried so successfully that I refuse to think about them enough to write about them at all) and I don’t know what to do with them other than put them here.

But none of them are really that bad, right?  They’re all little things.  They’re not at all like that time I got groped by a stranger on the bus.  That’s what I keep thinking.  All of these could have been so much worse, and some of them were really kind of my fault.  And I’m really good at saying “no” and setting boundaries now, at least within my relationship.

Yeah…I don’t know.

Leave a Reply