#itwasme #metoo

My earliest memories of violating someone’s consent were at the age of 5. I would chase this boy named Kent around the kindergarten and kiss him in front of everyone who laughed in glee at my antics. Even the teacher did not stop me. I think I even kissed this boy for show and tell one day. Perhaps because he never stood up to me, I could be seen as a bully. He never stood up for himself, he was clearly non consensual and not enjoying or reciprocating my affection. I was absolutely in the wrong and yet everyone allowed this to go on because I was a little girl predator initiating a chase on my little boy prey and not vice versa. So cute! Also, this was 1981, schools today have millenials as teachers and there would likely be a lesson on consent attached to this teachable moment squeezed in with the phonics of the day. A-A-apple, B-B-boy, C-C-consent! Fast forward to one night when I was working as an escort in LA. I was actually finishing up with a male client when I got a call from a female, flirtatious and asking if I could come by. My bisexual libido was aroused because it is so rare to get calls from women. I gave her the normal run down of my rate and she gave me her address. I threw up a peace sign to John while laughing and we joked about how much fun I was going to be having in the next hour. I drove from that client’s apartment far and deep into the San Fernando Valley. It probably took me about an hour to get to her house. When I arrived, she was noticeably drunk. There are no rules about sober consent in the sex work game for male or female clients because more than 50% of our clients are not sober, and because sex work, especially the way that I did it often followed the rules of the street, if the client made a call, they would either pay or play. My normal routine was to collect money before starting. I put my bag down while she looked at me from the couch seductively. “Can I get $250 from you please?” Her seductive eyes turned innocent and she put her finger on her cheek. “$250?” she laughed and moved closer to me. “What are you talking about?” She moved in to kiss me. I returned her passion. It was hot. I love women and women like this know this. I had spent the entire hour driving to her house thinking about how much fun it would be to fuck her even though I’d not seen her face, I was sure by the sound of her voice that she knew what she wanted and that alone was sexy enough for me given that women barely ever initiate booking of services from sex workers. When this happens, it happens about once a year and I am always more than happy to oblige with off the clock extras, kissing (i don’t usually kiss male clients) and whatever I feel like doing. I have a completely different attitude that I have with most female clients because they are like hitting gold in the sea of johns. I pulled my face away from her. “So you called me all the way over here and you don’t have any money?” I said, suddenly coming to my senses and realizing her manipulative tactics. She said nothing but kept trying to kiss me. “Who is going to pay for my time and gas?” I said pushing her gently back to the couch she was sitting on. “Don’t be mad.” she said. “Can we go back to your place and just have fun?” she said reaching for a bottle of some liquor in a green bottle. “Why can’t we just stay here?” I asked sitting next to her. “I have a roomate and she’s a fucking bitch. C’mon.” she said sliding her leg between mine. “Let’s get out of here.” At that moment, I punched out of my self employed work clock and decided that I would just fuck her for free because getting paid was going to be icing on the cake and admittedly I was feeling pretty typical “guy like” in my conquest of her body. I was going to get this pussy whether she paid me or not. She initiated my desire, after all, she would have to pay in cash or something else, I remember thinking. I drove her back to my house in LA from the Valley, another 45 minutes and rolled around in my bed with all my toys and lube and then I remember her passing out and kind of not reciprocating suddenly. I took that as a sign that she wanted to go to sleep so I pulled her naked body close to mine and went to sleep. 2 hours later at 5am before the sun rose, I felt her texting someone and then twenty minutes later rise suddenly and throw on her clothes and walk quietly down the stairs. She was clearly trying to sneak out, so I let her. I heard someone in a car pick her up and I just allowed her to go without speaking because I knew the routine as I’ve done it to many men before. That morning, however, I was that guy. It was me. I knew I fucked up but I didn’t really think too much of it actually because I felt justified in my actions still. She called me 2 days later with noticeable regret in her voice. “I-I don’t know what really happened that night. I was really really drunk. I just need to know if you have any STDs or anything.” she asked. I told her I had oral herpes and I could hear her soul just crumble. “But, I really don’t think you have anything to worry about.” I said recounting the sex acts that we did. That phone conversation and the awkward morning was the last time I would have sex with a drunk girl who was falling all over my libido. I learned that the morning after phone call from a devastated woman who felt violated was not one I ever wanted to have again. I learned about alcoholic blackout behavior through web research, how a black out means that the person has lost consciousness but is not necessarily passed out on the floor. I always thought that a blackout meant that they were passed out, not gone from being conscious in their mind. Blacked out people can get into fights with loved ones, assault people, damage property, drive cars and worse without their own body and mind’s consent and take everyone around them on a non consenting destructive ride with them if these people are not aware of the signs of this behavior. The key is that they do not and will not remember the details of the black out. I forgive myself, I really truly did not know any of this until after this night. And since the bisexual libido in me was actually something of a dude aching to get his dick sucked, until he like Aziz grew up through learning through terrible experiences what the consequences of his conquest mindset could actual be an act of violence. She was also guilty in this and hopefully will have also learned from her behavior. This is where the shades of gray come into play. No perfect victim, no perfect predator. What is required is willingness to learn, correct and forgive in copious amounts so that we can all get the sex we desire and feel absolutely good about it the morning after, a year or even a decade after.