I’ve never been a size queen, but recently I’ve realized that a big dick may actually be a dealbreaker for me now. Like I’ll be perving some guy’s FetLife profile, going through his pics admiring his abs and thinking of hitting on him, when – BAM – there’s a picture of his erection and it looks to be at or over seven inches long. And I feel vaguely queasy and decide not to make contact, after all.
I don’t know what I’ll do if I ever date a guy whose dick I haven’t seen in advance and he turns out to be big. I mean, by the time pants are doffed I’ll probably like him and stuff…I don’t know if I can just be like “NOPE” and walk away. And yet I really will not want to deal with his penis. At all.
But anyway, I realized that this severe aversion came from Minx. I’ve had well-endowed partners before; I’ve even had times when the sex with them was uncomfortable and I gritted my teeth and didn’t say anything because I was prioritizing their pleasure over my own. I had boundary issues; I know this. But I’d mostly worked through these by the time I met Minx; I was able, most of the time, to confidently assert myself by saying “stop” or “slow down” or “you’re hurting me” or “could we get into a different position? This one isn’t really doing it for me.”
But Minx would ignore my words and just keep going.
I saw a discussion of rape on FL recently in which one or more people basically opined that if someone doesn’t know their partner doesn’t want to have sex, it isn’t rape. That it’s only rape if you’re fully aware that the other person doesn’t want it but you keep going anyway. And I’m thinking what is this I can’t even.
Rape is sex without consent. Minx didn’t deliberately ignore me when I’d tell her to stop; she wasn’t some mustache-twirling supervillain going “mwah-ha-ha-ha, you have withdrawn consent and yet I shall persevere!!!” She was just scatterbrained and didn’t notice things*. But still: I did not like or want what was happening, and repeatedly said so, and she’d keep fucking me anyway, at least until my words finally registered. The fact that she simply wasn’t paying attention and didn’t hear me doesn’t make this any less traumatizing; it doesn’t somehow change the fact that I’d withdrawn consent. Her good intentions don’t make these incidents not-rape.
And now when I see a photo of some dude displaying his giant erection, I get flashbacks of crippling cervix-punching agony and feel vaguely nauseated.
I think the thing that was freaking people out in that FetLife discussion was the word rapist. Technically, someone who commits rape – even accidentally, like Minx – is a rapist. But that word, by its very structure, seems to imply deliberation or even skill. If I – a totally not-musical person – scraped a bow across the strings of a cello, that wouldn’t make me a cellist; I think most of us would agree that a cellist is someone who’s studied how to play the cello and is at least reasonably good at it. If someone happens to have a lot of canned food in their house and owns a gun, they’re not a survivalist; a survivalist is a person with very specific beliefs that just probably result in stockpiling food and weapons. The “ist” makes the word rapist sound like some kind of rape expert or rape connoisseur rather than a person who maybe, one time, made an (admittedly disastrous) mistake. I get that. I sympathize.
Maybe we need a different word to describe someone who just made a mistake; a word that differentiates between “Oh holy shit I’m so sorry I didn’t hear you” vs. “I’m going to wait til this chick is passed out and then fuck her.” Kind of like the difference, legally, between “murder” and “manslaughter.” I insist that we do need to call the mistake-maker something, because a rape did occur and the victim didn’t rape themselves – the other person did do a bad thing, whether they intended to or not.
I don’t think of Minx as a rapist per se. But I was raped. I tried to gloss over the bad incidents between us at the time because (for the most part) they were honest mistakes – but what happened did traumatize me. I experienced the exact same pain and rage and shock and fear and helplessness that I would have felt if Minx had deliberately ignored my words as a power play or mean practical joke. On my end, there was no difference between “mistaken” rape and deliberate rape. There was no “Oh, but she didn’t mean to so it’s not a big deal.” In the moment, all that mattered was that I was saying “stop” over and over (or “hold still for a second so I can get used to you” or just acting notably unenthusiastic while she was humping me) and she didn’t immediately stop.
So now I’ve got this baggage and trauma and I don’t really know how to work through it. I can’t even have the small comfort of demonizing the one who did this to me because I know it wasn’t malicious.
And I am done with big dicks. Not because I think big-dicked people are more prone to committing rape (I don’t) but because it’s so much easier for a big dick to hurt me by accident than a smaller one. Because I do know that what happened with Minx was a series of accidents, but I also know that it would’ve been a fair bit less awful if she’d been, like, two inches shorter and half an inch narrower. From now on I would like to only have penetrative sex with people who couldn’t cervix-punch me even if they tried, please. That seems like a good goal to me.
I really hope I never fall for a guy who ends up having a trouser anaconda. I don’t know what I’d do.
*Except for that one occasion when she heard me perfectly well and blatantly refused to stop until I actually flung myself away and screamed at her. Good times.