Relinquishing Your Rights and Accepting VictimhoodJuly 10, 2013
[UPDATE: MRA EDMONTON’s campaign is starting to go viral and mainstream due to their ‘Don’t be that girl’ campaign. Follow along here, and make your voice heard in the mainstream. Viva la Common Sense and Sanity! ]
This post may piss some people off and enrage some. Oh well, i aim to misbehave. There’s something i should be putting up here.. can’t quite remember.. i’m sure it will come to me eventually.
New Years Eve, 1993.
I’m at a house party. The taste of Southern Comfort is permeating my mucus membranes. The women whom I have been pining for (and who would be my future wife) is there too. Everyone knows i have a thing for her, including her. She unclasps her bra from under her shirt and pulls it out through the sleeve of her shirt. It’s a black bra. Some of my friends wave it around the room as i chase it all over the couch and over the coffee table like an omega clown. I know i look stupid. I feel the fool. But i’m having fun nonetheless being the idiot. My logical brain is still running, it tells me i’m being retarded. It knows i would not be doing this on a normal day. And it says ‘What the hell, it’s NEW YEARS.. run with it’. Stupid inebriated traitorous brain.
I am drunk. Probably the drunkest i’ve ever been.
I still remember being in the bathroom, during the New Year’s countdown, with my face pressed against the cool tiles beside the toilet. I remember telling myself “You’re a fucking idiot, you’re going to miss the New Year because you drank too much”. My mouth wasn’t moving, it was drooling. All this talking was going on in my mind, unaffected by the room spinning or my blood alcohol level.
I still remember the rancid taste of pickle’s and Southern Comfort as i leaned back over the bowl to dry heave the last of the projectile vomit & bile out of my system, the sounds of party revelers droned out by my nausea, like the reverb sound you hear shortly after a loud explosion went off nearly knocking you out.
I recall every moment of every drunken episode i ever had. Especially the time my friend spun me on his shoulders and i flew off head first putting a huge whole into the drywall. Fun times.
This is why i have a problem with people who claim they never remember what happened, or blacked out. I think it’s a cop out..
BUT LET’S RUN WITH THAT
Let’s say you can legitimately claim that. Hell you, reading this right now, have drank to the point of blacking out, or have done things while drunk you cannot remember. Time and again you drink and cannot remember a thing you did the night before.
If you know that drinking puts you into that state, what you are actually admitting is that you are a fucking idiot for putting yourself in harms way by entering a state whereby you relinquish any and all ability to prevent yourself from being a victim. To enter a state of Limbo where anything can happen that you have zero control over and are powerless to prevent. You enter a state where you can neither account for your actions or accept responsibility for them.
I needed to say all that as a prelude to where i’m going with this…
Of all the women i have known in my life, i know of 2 that have intimated that they were sexually assaulted. (I guess the other women either never trusted me enough to tell me, or that 1 in 4 stat is bullshit.. my guess is it’s the latter). These 2 ladies were some of my closest friends and i have nothing but complete sympathy/empathy for what they went through. One almost had her life destroyed because of it, and if the story is true and accurate.. absolutely horrifying. But when you drill down.. you see where my problems with it all comes down.
Neither person deserved what happened to them.. but in the end.. are they victims at all? I present the tale of 2 ‘sexual assaults’. I’m not here to judge them or say their trauma isn’t real. But i do have a problem with the official stories.
This story sucks. I hate it because i love this girl dearly (as a friend) and she’s such a sweet and good person that it hurts to even have to question her story. But logic and reasoning demands nothing less.
The first girl’s story ends off in a European country. After a long night of drinking everything goes black until she wakes up the next morning, naked, next to a male family relative. So distraught and traumatized by this stunning turn of events, she puts on her clothes and leaves the house and hurries back home. All manner of thoughts rush through her head. Why was she in his bed naked? How did she get there? Did they do anything? Did she come on to him? Was he drunk too? How could this happen? Why were they naked? Did they have sex? How could her own family member do this to her? How revolting could he be to take advantage of her?
But did he?
Realize.. no one can remember anything. Everything from the point of waking up is pure speculation. You can attempt to derive something from the known facts, but it’s still just a guess at most. What if she did come on to him and he was too drunk to rationally ignore her advances? What if they disrobed because it was a humid hot night? Why do drunk people do dumb things?
In her mind she firmly believed something happened and by all rights I cannot prove something didn’t happen. But she cannot prove that it did either (unless i didn’t get the full story and am missing information). But with what info i do have, i can rationally ask if anything actually transpired without being called a rape supporter or a victim blamer. Further i can legitimately state that her getting that drunk to where she could not remember the events leading up to her ending up in that mans bed.. while tragic and traumatizing as it were.. pretty much rests at her feet. It sounds like victim blaming but in reality it’s cold hard truth.
Put another way..
in 1998 my uncle and his best friend left a party. At 2am my mother got a phone call that my uncle wrapped his Ford Tempo around a light standard. Wrapped it around the passenger side of the car.
Not much was left of my uncles friend. Was my uncle very sad for killing his friend and filled with remorse? You bet. But it didn’t alleviate the fact that he had killed his best friend. No amount of claiming he couldn’t remember getting into the car or driving the car would remove the fact that he drank to a certain point and waived away any pretense of not carrying responsibility or liability for what would happen while he was drunk. That he might not remember getting into the car and driving it into a light post doesn’t mean he isn’t responsible for what happened. And it doesn’t end there..
The man who died.. well he paid the ultimate price and didn’t deserve to die, but he was equally responsible for his own death. By also drinking and waiving away his right to be sober, lucid and in control of his faculties to prevent himself from being a victim, he eagerly accepted to ride with a very drunk man. Any sane, sober individual would not have placed themselves in that position.
Drinking it would seem might put you in a position where very bad things can happen to you, no matter how much protestation to the contrary about not deserving it. Imagine if this young harlot ended up in a car full of extremely drunk and horny guys who didn’t have the capacity or the desire to curb their libido?
Would it have been their fault for taking advantage of her (whilst being drunk themselves), or her fault for entering a state that put her in that position in the first place? Thankfully, she ended up in a car with rational thinking men who turned down *HER* advances for sex.
Following feminist logic, we aren’t supposed to stop the drunk drivers, take them off the road and hold them responsible, we should be wrapping light standards in bubble wrap and foam, make cars out of cardboard or filling up with security foam Demolition Man style to soften the impacts brought on by a lack of responsibility and protect them from the consequences of their insane choice to enter a state of Limbo where they lack all agency.
Feminism: Don’t tell us to stop drinking and driving, it’s too much fun.. go out and make the concrete softer! Make cars more indestructible and safer! Bar men from driving on highways so there’s more room to weave! If women drive off the embankment because they were too drunk and going too fast, it’s somehow the men’s fault, so we should impose penalties and speed restrictions on male drivers!
These are the problems associated with getting blackout drunk. doing so means you waive away your right to sobriety, lucidity and the ability to recollect anything. Thus it makes whatever you think irrelevant. It’s the reason we have signs like this:
True story. Before i got married, i ended up getting drunk at a strip club and took home a woman who wasn’t a regular stage dancer, but a freelance woman who was obviously a prostitute. Obvious, after the fact. In my drunken stupor, i found her more good looking than she actually was and took her home. I coughed up the money because in my inebriated state i wasn’t prepared to argue it or try to ‘game’ her. Halfway through, my condom broke without me knowing. I didn’t cum but i was doing her unprotected. When i saw that thing broken around my shaft, the horror of it all hit me. The next 4 weeks waiting for the tests to come back were the most stressful horrible days of my life, to see whether i shit my life down the tube over some crack whore. You know what i didn’t do?
- didn’t blame it on the booze i willingly put into my mouth in vast quantities
- didn’t blame it on the whore for seducing me while i was under the influence
- didn’t blame it on my life situation at the time, of being alone or unwanted or unloved
I owed it. Owned having gotten drunk to a stupid level (where i remembered everything still), drunk to having taken leave of my senses, taking a woman home who made a living taking strange, possibly diseased men home, and not double bagging it. HAD I BEEN SOBER, the night would not have happened. I had NO ONE but myself to blame. And blame myself i did on being stupid. I got lucky my test came back clean, a month before i started seeing my soon to be wife.
I TOOK RESPONSIBILITY FOR WHATEVER THE CONSEQUENCES OF THAT NIGHT WOULD BE!
I have nothing but sadness in my heart for what my friend thought happened to her and how it ultimately affected her life. I can only say that had she not drank the volume she drank, a dark chapter of her life would not have taken place. Bear in mind, it doesn’t mean she deserved what happened (if it did happen).. but again, logically i have to ask, did anything actually happen? We will never truly know. It’s a sick way to phrase it, but it’s almost like a metaphysical though experiment such as ‘If a tree falls in a forest..’. If a woman believes she’s been raped, but the experience only exists in her mind.. did it really happen? She woke up and her mind filled in the blanks…
Our second woman’s story begins with meeting a nice gentleman at a coffee shop. They exchange pleasantries and after a while he invites her back to his place. In somewhat typical (and oblivious fashion) she assumes she is just going to his place for whatever girls think guys bring them back to their place for that doesn’t include sex. Perhaps to view his decor or something.. maybe to show off his IKEA couch.. or the potted plant. Really, what do you girls think will happen, i’m genuinely curious to know what you’re thinking?
Back to the story..
In no short order his vibes turn to the romantic and it becomes clear sex is on his mind, to which she is certainly not wanting to take part in. From right out of the Roosh handbook of steady but progressive advances despite her saying ‘no’ in order to break down her ‘slut’ defense, he continues to press for sex, in defiance of her protestations. So she made a choice. She told me that she felt very trapped in his apartment and was worried that he might become enraged or violent so she decided that against her own wishes. She would relent, lie back, think of England and have sex with him. Shortly thereafter she left. She considers herself not raped per say.. but still sexually violated because he didn’t take No for an answer and in her view, intimidated her.
(M3 Sidenote: I’m the first person here to back enthusiastic consent. I don’t know what joy you can derive from having sex with someone who doesn’t want to be there or isn’t involved. Really, you might as well get a blow up doll, it’s probably going to make more enthusiastic noise. Your just a selfish fuck if you fuck women without a care in the world about your partner. If you’re having token marriage sex where she’s doing her duty, at least try and get her into the mood. At the very least tell her you love her. I despised having sex with my wife when she wasn’t in go mode. I would actually stop before it even got started until she would ask what was wrong and i’d tell her i’d rather jerk off than fuck her uninterested ass. She’d usually get more enthusiastic when she knew i’d be going solo rather than ‘making love’ to her. But the same goes for entitled, clubbing slut women who just want to use a man for the night. I hate selfish women who only think of and use men as walking dildos/wallets/sperm doners just as much as Tucker Max types who just use damaged girls as cum dumpsters [but never forget who is allowing who to be used eh].. but that’s just my own opinion because i treat sex like art and not monkeyfucking.. back to the story)
Anyone guess where my problem is? You probably already know. She relinquished her agency by giving in to an assumption. Rather than assert her agency by acting upon that “NO” and proceeding to walk to the door, to exit, she instead created a hypothetical reality in her mind the she could voluntarily give up to rather than risk facing the truth. She voluntarily become a victim of her own choice. Because again, that’s what it was. A choice. She wasn’t put into a position where she was given zero choice. She simply gave up.
Let me tell you something. If some guy was trying to put his penis into my asshole, i would fight right up until i had a knife or gun pressed on me before i relented. I would keep saying no until my life was on the line. I wouldn’t give up whether it’s a salesman trying to sell me some shit over the phone, religious nuts selling me their god at the front door, or a man attempting to take something from me he’s not entitled to. I will keep saying NO without fail until the hint is taken, or my life is at stake. At that point, you roll with your best survival strategy, BUT NOT ONE SECOND SOONER!
I can hear it now.. “Oh but that’s your male privilege you forgot to check at the door.. she was in real fear of danger, something you as a male can’t understand”.
Ohh, i’ll do you one better. And that’s pretty insulting.. since you’re supposed to be all equal and shit, but now you’re saying you’re not, because what.. men are stronger and more intimidating? Hypocrite.
Anyways.. Let me tell you about the summer of 2008. I went to the C.N.E. with my new Olympus E-510 camera in tow, taking photos of anything and everything. Twas a great day. As night began to fall and i was leaving the C.N.E. grounds i stood on the bridge over the Gardiner Expressway, which presented me with a very sweet view of the skyline. Since light was scarce i had to set my camera settings to a low shutter speed to capture the night sky. As i was resting the camera on the bridge guardrail to keep the camera still, i overheard a voice behind me say in a very ghetto voice “Dats a nice camera boy, i tink it would look good in my hands”. I turned to see 2 lanky African American tough’s in sterotypical gangsta fashion eyeballing my gear. He continued to his friend “Maybe we could use a camera like dat!”.. to which the other puke replied “Ya, maybe even that exact one”. They both laughed, the implication being almost too obvious…
..but not obvious enough. It appeared robbery was in the air, but i had to be sure that was their intention.
I had a choice to make. I had a$1,200.00 camera in my hands. There were still some pedestrians about, but being Toronto, most people run away from crimes in progress rather than towards them to help out. So i couldn’t count on civies. There were 2 of them, and one of me. And i wasn’t the guy i am today. I was 40 pounds heavier.. but it wasn’t muscle that made up that weight. I felt real fear there, helplessness and a loss of control. I could have just taken the camera off my neck and handed it over to the two nice gentleman, and i’m sure they’d have been much obliged to take it and walk away.
I looked the first cocksmoker in the eye and said “I’m sorry, i couldn’t quite make out what you guys were saying but it sounded like you wanted to take my camera from me?” I held the eye lock. I was calling his bluff. I was ready to do any number of things.. throw the camera over the bridge and run if i saw a knife or gun, mentally prepared to lose $1,200.oo with the satisfaction of seeing it break his face if he came towards me, start screaming for help in hopes there was still some good citizens left in “Toronto the Good”. I was prepared to do just about anything without shame or embarresment. I was no Chuck Norris, and i am not saying i’d entertain fighting them with macho bravado, but i’d run, yell, scream, scratch, claw, swing my camera, fight dirty, whatever it took. Anything!
Anything except assume the worst and hand it over without a fight. A fight where i could legitimately be destroyed, injured or killed.
Better than volunteering to be a victim.
The guy looked over at his friend, looked back at me, made some weird lipsmack sound and said “Nahhh, we just be kiddin wit you boy..” and trailed off as he and his fucktard friend started to mosey off. Not being one to count my good fortune, i packed my camera up and started scoping around for police cars and points of egress and ultimately, the quickest route to the next available TTC bus.
I refused to be a victim by choice. At great risk and personal cost if it all went wrong, but then and only then could i be able to call myself a ‘victim’. Once the choice is removed from my hands does it become victim-hood, but i had to stand my ground to see if it would go that far. I couldn’t simply assume it’s inevitability and surrender because it ‘looked’ like i was about to be robbed.
Although my friend had said No a couple dozen times.. she didn’t stick with NO. Unless he pulled a knife or gun out, and made an implicit threat of violence whereby giving in to being raped is the only way to survive, to get out physically undamaged rather than being injured or killed, then yes.. i concur. But she did not dig in and stand her ground. She made an assumption. She caved and allowed him to have sex with her. Sex that she did not want to have in order to head off one of a million possible branching timelines and alternate realities.
Let’s do the WHAT IF game:
- What if she walked towards the door to leave. Would he block her exit or let her leave without a word?
- What if she started screaming “No” very loudly. Would he cover her mouth with duct tape and rape her or would he turtle, shrink, cower and acquiesce?
- What if she said she’d call the cops? Would he lunge at her or would he stare in stunned silence realizing just how far he crossed her line?
- What if she asked him if he really was interested in having sex with someone who didn’t want to have sex with him? Would he laugh? Cry? Question his life?
- What if she asked him if he would value sex if he had to fuck a woman he did not want to have sex with? Would he shrug? Would he capitulate? Would he engage in dialogue?
These are just the first things that jumped into my head. Are you seriously telling me women are such unthinking waifs incapable of thinking on their feet, that the slightest thought of fear inducing predicament retards them into yielding victims ready to be walked over without immediate support and outside intervention? Really.. is that how you’re going to prove you’re my equal?
We will never know. She abdicated her responsibility to determine that outcome and instead CHOSE her way out based on an assumption. She chose to lie back and think of England rather than assert her agency to not be a victim. Had she simply walked to the door, he might simply have let her walk out unmolested. She never gave that divergent parallel timeline a chance.
When you drink to the point of blacking out, what you are actually doing is relinquishing your right to do anything except be a helpless victim.
And even tho the majority of men will rather stand up and prevent drunken women from doing stupid things, there are some out there who would do harm, as the mother in this video can attest to:
As i said before, just because she didn’t deserve it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, and is little consolation to her now grieving mother.
When you go ahead with something you don’t want to do because you are afraid of one *possible* future, you are relinquishing your right to say you were a victim since you handed away any ability to determine whether you actually would have been a victim.
This is my problem with rape culture. It is the feminists ability to conflate REAL rape with imagined/perceived rape. To conflate REAL rape with any form of sexual misconduct from minor inappropriate touch, to instances where there is no factual evidence or basis for the claim. It is ENOUGH simply for a woman to believe it may have happened. As long as it exists in her mind, it’s rape, and that’s good enough for feminists. They need every one counted so they can hit their 1 in 4 bullshit. For me to make to even be making such statements.. it will no doubt make me a rapist sympathizer and supporter because.. patriarchy.. i suppose. I have nothing but empathy for my female friends who dealt with the effects of what they went through, but at some point (and it actually hurts writing this but..) you need to own up to the fact that you waived your rights as anyone else does in life when you act on assumptions or drink past the point of sobriety. Do you deserve what bad things might happen to you? No. But bad things do happen anyways…
.. just ask my uncle.
Responsibility starts and ends with you.
It’s why i have no one but myself to blame for missing the New Year.
Oh shit! Now i remember what i forgot.. *Trigger Warning*. Damn.
I expect a lot of flak for this post and welcome any reasoned debate on any point of view i may have missed, as long as you check your hysterics at the door. Senseless flames will not get past moderation. If you don’t know how to debate in a rational manner, don’t expect your comments to survive here.
I want to add as a side note, that according to feminism’s script, the fact that i was accosted by those 2 black youths, and am inundated with news reports of crime being perpetrated by black youth all across the city in drugs, theft and gang/gun related violence, and that because of my ‘lived experience of fear’ in dealing with that situation i endured at the CNE.. i must now assume all black men are guilty until presumed innocent, look at every black man as a potential mugger who only restrains himself from robbing me because we have criminal laws against robbery, that black men should walk to the other side of the street to avoid putting me in discomfort, and that the best thing black men could do is to shut the fuck up and listen and park their privilege at the door since they rarely have to worry about a white boy trying to rob them so they’ll never understand the constant fear i live under.
Sounds fucking racist and retarded doesn’t it. Welcome to feminism.
(h/t to Judgy Bitch for the inspiration and being a vocal leader in the field of granting common sense back to women)
Drunk chick gets in car with man she doesn’t know to do a line of coke, ends up getting raped. Totally didn’t see that coming! Utterly shocked that Grand Jury won’t indict! The state of rape in the USA.